PHANTOM LADY: Blu-ray (Universal, 1944) Arrow Academy

Although one-time up and coming MGM star, Franchot Tone is top-billed in Robert Siodmak’s Phantom Lady (1944) his participation, appearing more than 45 minutes into this tepid hour-and-a-half crime drama, is as unprepossessing a plot development in Bernard C. Schoenfeld’s bungled screenplay, as is his thoroughly meaningless and mangled performance as the basically ‘good guy’ who just also happens to be an unlikely and very disturbed serial killer.  Some of Tone’s own egocentricity has seeped into his character herein, uber-socialite, Jack Marlow. Tone, who always regarded the movies as inferior to the stage – his first love – had, in fact, begun as part of ‘The Group’ theater, gaining prominence opposite Katherine Cornell in the late 1920’s. Throughout the 1930’s however, Tone seemed destined for movie stardom, thanks, in part, to his becoming the second Mr. Joan Crawford; basically, the ‘other half’ of Hollywood’s most ambitious ‘power couple.’ Both Crawford and Tone’s stars were on the ascendance throughout this decade, and Tone’s MGM tenure yielded some fine work in stellar A-list pictures like the Jean Harlow classic, Bombshell (1933), Clark Gable’s monumental sea-faring epic, Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) and The Unguarded Hour (1936). But by the end of the thirties, Tone and Crawford had worn their cuffs too often and a tad too prematurely; their open marriage ending in an ‘as casual’ divorce in 1939. With this, came a decided downturn in Tone’s celluloid star power. Metro’s best attempts to make him a leading man were obfuscated by better work done as the third-billed guy in support of other major headliners. And placing Tone opposite such high-profile he-men as Clark Gable or Spencer Tracy only seemed to reiterate that his appeal was limited. So, by the time Phantom Lady came around, Tone was not only older, but also less of a draw.

And yet again, Tone is playing second fiddle – this time, to handsome, Alan Curtis, as Scott Henderson who, in his pencil-thin moustache, appears as a wan ghost flower/knock-off of Gable, albeit, without Gable’s personality or magnetism to carry it off. This leaves the heavy lifting to second-billed Ella Raines as the kitten-faced ingenue, Carol Richman. And Raines is undeniably the major force here, delivering a mostly introspective performance that, only in the last act, devolves into the sort of cliched ‘damsel in distress’; the antithesis to noir’s usual spate of femme fatales. Nevertheless, Siodmak is blessed to have her, as Raines proves again and again the glue to hold the picture together, especially when all else about it seems to be floating away in the heavy ether of noir hyperbole and tripe. Even so, Phantom Lady just seems to be trying much too hard to hit the A-list bull’s eye as a moody noir masterpiece. Too bad, its trappings are summer stock hand-me-downs at best; right down to the casting of Brazilian singer, Aurora Miranda whose sister, ‘Carmen’ obviously went on to have the splashier film career.  Producer, Joan Harrison, one of Universal Pictures’ earliest female executives, and former secretary to Alfred Hitchcock, is aiming to enter her former master’s territory with this one.

And, with Woody Bredell’s supremely creepy chiaroscuro-lit cinematography, and the casting of such noir alumni as Elisha Cook Jr. and Thomas Gomez, she almost gets away with passing off this mutt of a movie as more of a purebred. The film is loosely based on Cornell Woolrich’s novel, written under the nom de plume, William Irish. But the movie’s similarities to the book are superficial at best, vamping Hitchcock-esque techniques, while bastardizing the psychological aspects of the story, in favor of a well-turned out and smart-looking presentation that otherwise adds up to a lot of forgettable dumb show. The characters who populate Phantom Lady do so without purpose – staring blankly with pang expressions into life’s abyss, but without ever truly revealing the depth of their darkest despair; the manufactured milieu of their malaise as soulless, drab and ill-favored as its far-fetched, and impractical plot. To add insult to injury, it all ends with a contrived ‘happily ever after’ – hardly, the denouement of a traditional, or more importantly ‘memorable’ noir classic.  Phantom Lady was made in a highly competitive year of menacing melodramas, including Edward Dmytryk’s Murder My Sweet, George Cukor’s Gaslight, Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity, Otto Preminger’s Laura, and Fritz Lang’s Ministry of Fear. It challenges none of these supreme examples for the exalted top spot – neither artistically, nor at the box office.  

We begin with Scott Henderson (Alan Curtis), a 32-year-old engineer who, after having an argument with his unseen wife on their anniversary, picks up an as disenchanted and slightly disturbed socialite, Ann Terry (Fay Helm) at a seedy bar. Scott intended to surprise his wife with tickets to the theater. Now, he proposes to Ann – whose name he never asks – they take in the show instead.  On the short taxi ride to the theater, Ann cryptically confesses she needs a reason to laugh.  Bizarrely, the star of the musical revue they attend, Estela Monteiro (Aurora Miranda), becomes infuriated when she notices she and Ann are wearing the same feathered hat. Catty-catty!  From the orchestra pit, drummer, Cliff (Elisha Cook Jr.) attempts to flirt with Ann. His advances go unnoticed.  Afterward, Scott escorts Ann back to a seedy brownstone where she presumably lives (but actually does not). Returning to his apartment hours later, Scott is met by Police Inspector Burgess (Thomas Gomez) and two of his investigating detectives (Regis Toomey and Joseph Crehan). All three are highly skeptical of Henderson and for good reason. Mrs. Henderson has just been discovered, brutally strangled in the bedroom of their fashionable apartment.

Scott is genuinely remorseful, although Burgess and his men are not buying it. Unable to provide the name of the woman he chaperoned to the theater, Scott instead takes Burgess back to the bar and the theater, certain the bartender (Andrew Tombes) and Monteiro will be able to identify him, and thus, vouch for his alibi. Alas, each pretends not to remember him or the lady in question. The next day, Henderson’s devoted secretary, Carol Richman, learns of her boss’ incarceration. Dutifully, she prays for a miracle, attending the trial daily, only to bear witness to Scott’s conviction. Attending Scott in prison, Carol is urged to return to Kansas and forget about him. Alas, Carol, who harbors an unrequited passion for him, instead sets out on a perilous fact-finding mission to exonerate the man she loves.  She begins with the bartender, night after night, staring him down in the hopes he will break his silence. After he confronts her in the street, and is subdued by some bystanders, the bartender breaks free from the crowd, only to run into oncoming traffic where he is struck and killed by a passing motorist. Learning of Carol’s plan to unearth the real killer, Burgess offers ‘unofficially’ to aid in any way that he can, as he too is convinced Scott’s story is so implausibly weak it must be the truth.

Providing Carol with intel about the show’s drummer, Cliff, Carol dolls herself up in cheaply provocative clothes and goes slumming. Her plan works…sort of. Cliff takes the bate and invites Carol to an all-night jazz jam session in a basement where he rhythmically pounds out his sexual frustrations on another set of drums before encouraging Carol to come back to his apartment. Aside: Poor Elisha Cook – he always specialized in these creepy little toads, guaranteed to make any young woman’s skin crawl. Slightly intoxicated, Cliff allows Carol to get too close to the truth, boasting how he made a cool $500 at Scott’s trial, just for keeping his mouth shut. But Cliff becomes unhinged when he accidentally knocks over Carol’s purse, discovering a typed sheet with his contact info inside.  The two struggle. Carol manages her escape, leaving behind her purse. Now, the real murderer, Henderson’s best friend, Jack Marlow turns up at Cliff’s apartment. It was he who paid for the false testimony at Scott’s trial. Now, Cliff is a loose end that needs to be tied up. Without hesitation, Jack strangles Cliff. Meanwhile, Carol returns to Cliff’s apartment with Burgess. They discover the body, but otherwise, no clues to further their investigation.

Determined to find out what Carol knows, Marlow cordially introduces himself as Scott’s pal. Marlow begins to have feelings for Carol, but is plagued by disturbing headaches and an insatiable desire to remain anonymous in her investigation. Unaware, as yet, she has allowed the real killer in her midst, Carol makes it known to Marlow she has tracked down Monteiro’s hatmaker, Kettisha (Doris Lloyd). At first, the owner of this millinery denies a duplicate was made. Indeed, her clients rely on her discretion and artistry to create one-of-a-kind confections to adorn ladies of culture. Only now, one of Kettisha’s sad-eyed workers, under duress of conscience, sheepishly admits that not long after Monteiro ordered her chapeau, another lady came into the shop, demanding an exact replica. The hat was made on the sly, but the worker took down the lady’s name and address to fill out the order blank; a wealthy Long Island socialite named ‘Ann Terry’. Offering to escort Carol to the estate, Marlow and Carol arrive at Ann’s mansion and are warmly greeted by Dr. Chase (Virginia Brissac).  It seems Ann has suffered a nervous breakdown after the death of her fiancée and can see no one. Carol pleads with Dr. Chase, as it may very well be a matter of life and death. And although Chase does permit Carol to talk to her patient in private, she has Marlow wait downstairs.

In Ann’s bedroom, Carol gingerly attempts to coax a confession from Ann. But she is somewhat sedated and seemingly in an emotional trance of her own design, refusing to admit to anything. Ann asks Carol to leave after she enquires about her hat. And although Ann complies momentarily with this request, she returns to the bedroom to find Ann seated on the floor, admiring the very bonnet she has been hoping to find. Carol pleads for Ann to let her borrow the hat to show to Burgess. At first, Ann refuses. But then, she suffers a tearful epiphany. Her fiancée is dead, and the dream that was – or rather, embodied by her holding on to the hat – is at an end. So, Ann relinquishes its custody to Carol. Happily, Carol departs the manor with Marlow. On the trip back to New York, Ann dozes off. Marlow is almost successful at reaching for the hat, although precisely why he would want it remains a mystery. It proves nothing. But instead, Carol stirs. She asks for Marlow to pull over at a nearby fill station so she can telephone Burgess to meet them back home. Marlow suggests he can make this call on her behalf, and will ask Burgess to meet them both at his apartment. As Carol has no reason to doubt Marlow, she agrees to these terms.

Through the window of the adjacent five and dime, Carol witnesses Marlow make the call, unaware he has disconnected the receiver first and is merely going through the motions for her benefit. Now, Marlow takes Carol back to his apartment. And although he could have easily dispatched with her hours before, and somewhere far less conspicuous along the open road, he now waits for hours still, knowing Burgess is not coming to Carol’s rescue. Suffering another headache, Marlow lays down on a sofa while Carol places Ann’s hat on one of his many statues. She tells Marlow she is going in the washroom to freshen up. And although she still has no reason to suspect Marlow of anything, Carol instead pokes around his boudoir, discovering souvenirs from his murderous spree neatly tucked in the top drawer of his dresser. Attempting to contact Burgess from the bedroom telephone, Carol panics when she hears movement in the next room and hangs up after only speaking cryptically to someone at the police station’s front desk. Returning to the living room, she finds Marlow still quietly where she left him. Only now, Ann’s hat is gone. Hurrying to the front door, Carol discovers it has been locked from the inside.

Marlow admits to an infatuation with Scott’s wife; his overtures denied, and with the thought that his best friend’s wife might spill the truth, this sent Marlow into an uncontrollable rage. So, he strangled the unsuspecting woman and then helped frame Scott for the crime. Rushing into the bedroom again, Carol is confronted by Marlow. He plans to strangle her too. But Burgess has somehow received Carol’s message, and, even more miraculously, appears to have been just around the corner, waiting for her call. Bursting into the apartment, Burgess comforts Carol. From the bedroom we hear the sound of breaking glass and discover that Marlow, in his feeble attempt to scale the outer wall from his balcony to the next, has slipped and fallen several stories to his death. Several days pass. Scott is exonerated and is restored to his former life. Carol returns as his secretary, meeting Burgess in Scott’s office to thank him for his commitment to the case. Scott announces to all he has to leave immediately for an out-of-town project. Burgess suggests nothing has changed, and Carol, rather chagrined, has to admit as much. Her boss still only thinks of her as his secretary. Or does he? Turning on the Dictaphone to take down Scott’s notations, Carol learns Scott intends to propose to her upon returning from his trip. She gushes for the camera in anticipation of their reunion.

Phantom Lady is an incongruous patchwork of clichés, haphazardly stitched together in a vain effort to will a good story into existence. As this never happens, we are left with a lot of atmospheric touches and a good solid central performance from Ella Raines who would go on to have a memorable second-tier career in movies throughout the fifties and even star in her own short-lived TV serial. Regrettably, Raines left us much too soon, succumbing to throat cancer in 1988. She was barely 67 years old. While no one could ever confuse Raines’ acting range with that of the true immortals from her vintage, her proficiency and undeniable good looks made her a popular choice for B-budgeted fodder she frequently elevated to ‘better than’ status.  Phantom Lady is not altogether a waste of her talents. But it does require Raines to surrender her forthright amateur sleuthing in the final reel, narrowly becoming ‘the victim’ instead, before being relegated to just another heartsore daydreamer, whose one true ambition – to be Scott’s wife – seemingly is about to come true, moments before the final fade to black. Oh well, at least Siodmak’s direction does not belabor any of the finer points in this languid thriller, moving the action from scene to scene with an artistic efficiency, perhaps, merely to get the damn thing done. In the end, Phantom Lady is forgettable C-grade nonsense with above average performances to elevate it by a grade.

Arrow Academy needs to reassess its label and its commitments to distributing Universal product, as Uni’s lack of remastering herein is definitely bringing down Arrow’s reputation for quality releases. This one is being advertised as a new hi-def transfer derived from original elements. The underlying inference is that some sort of restoration has been applied to prepare this release. Actually, all Uni did was master the film in its present state of disrepair. While contrast is superb and fine details abound, age-related artifacts are everywhere, and, during one crucial sequence, are manifested in severe scratches and dot crawl riddling the image to the point of distraction. This is hardly the way any vintage movie should find its way to Blu-ray, and truly, given the otherwise impeccable quality of these ‘original elements’ Uni ought to have dropped the extra coin to apply a simple blue-wash to fill in a lot of this age-related damage, and also, apply a few digital tools to smooth over the rest. Arrow too ought to have insisted on as much before agreeing to distribute this one on home video.

The 1.0 PCM audio sounds fine. We get two extras: Dark and Deadly - 50 Years of Film Noir, and, a rare hour-long Lux Radio broadcast of Phantom Lady, also starring Alan Curtis and Ella Raines. Dark and Deadly was made in 1994 and with the benefit of many great talents from Hollywood’s golden era, still around to offer their insightful commentary on the movement known as ‘film noir’.  Too bad, most of the vintage clips from various movies showcased throughout look as though they have been fed through a meat grinder – appearing faded and careworn to a fault. Arrow has also furnished us with a stills gallery of promo materials, and a booklet with an interesting essay by noir aficionado, Alan K. Rode.  Bottom line: I would have liked to recommend Phantom Lady, either for the movie or the 1080p transfer. But both are sincerely flawed. So, judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

2.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

2.5

EXTRAS

3