REPEAT PERFORMANCE: Blu-ray (Eagle-Lion, 1947) Flicker Alley
Almost from the outset, director,
Alfred L. Werker’s Repeat Performance (1947) takes hold of the viewer by
the throat and for the next hour-and-a-half does not let go. That Walter
Bullock’s screenplay (based on William Farrell’s novel) manages the precepts of
the noir thriller while interjecting a sense of the miraculous, to haunt from
the peripheries of the screen, is ambitious and affecting. For those unaware,
the plot is wafter thin but engaging. Actress, Sheila Page (Joan Leslie)
murders her playwright/hubby, Barney (Louis Hayward) on New Year's Eve, then
wishes she could relive the preceding twelve months, in a fervent desire to rewrite
history for the better. And, just as soon as the smoke clears from her gun
barrel, this is precisely what occurs. Time allows Sheila the opportunity to ‘fix’
her past...maybe. Repeat Performance is a queer movie to critique. On
the one hand, it sports L. William O'Connell’s superb B&W deep focus
cinematography. The opening shot of the murder, descending from on high through
an open balcony with billowy drapes as a stunned Sheila stands over the bullet-riddled
corpse of her husband, is a bone-chilling tour de force. On the other hand, the
picture suffers from a frustratingly bad turn by top-billed Hayward who denies
us nothing in his overwrought, transparent and cheeky venom spewed against his
wife.
I remain at a loss to justify Mr.
Hayward’s performance as Barney, seemingly a Brit without the grit, who, in his
early days became a protégé of Noël Coward on the London stage. Fair enough, he
worked steadily and segued into the British film industry with a string of
successes, working for Coward and the celebrated Michael Powell. MGM signed Hayward
to a 4-picture deal; then, loaned him to Columbia, and finally, Warner Bros.
where he experienced his first flourish of notoriety in their costly blockbuster,
Anthony Adverse (1936). Afterward, Hayward made pictures at Universal
and RKO, before signing with indie producer, Edward Small. As with many a star
from this period, WWII intervened in the natural progression of his career. But
there are many good, even some great pictures in Hayward’s tenure, both before
and immediately after the war. Alas, Repeat Performance is not among
them. Yet, Hayward’s complete lack of grasp on the character of
Barney is baffling. Mercifully, the same cannot be said of his co-star.
Joan Leslie, who at age 11 caught
the eye of an MGM talent scout and was offered a six-month contract at a whopping
$200 a week in 1936, came to Repeat Performance in a round-about way. Her
Metro contract was very short-lived. Thus, she freelanced until signing with
Warner Bros. in 1941, at age 15. It was all very A-list for a time, with Leslie
appearing to good effect in some of the studio’s most high-profile pics: High
Sierra, Sergeant York (both in 1941), The Male Animal, Yankee Doodle
Dandy (both in 1942), The Hard Way, This is the Army (both in 1943),
and, Hollywood Canteen (1944). Evidently, Leslie was unaware how biting
the proverbial hand that fed her could prove detrimental to her career. Longing
for more mature roles, she sued the studio. Jack Warner’s response: cancel her
contract and effectively blackball Leslie from working at any of the majors in Hollywood.
Undaunted, Leslie signed a two-picture deal with impoverished Eagle-Lion – the
U.S. offshoot formulated by UK movie magnate, J. Arthur Rank to distribute his
Brit-based product. And the decision proved the best of all possible
opportunities for Leslie. She has real/reel gravitas as Sheila Page. The
picture almost entirely belongs to her and she embraces it with an uncanny and
careworn maturity, intermittently sparked by horror for what she has done – only
momentarily to be forgiven, futile hopelessness, that the past – ultimately –
cannot be rewritten, and, discouragement, her life should have, quite simply,
come to such tragic folly.
Barney, introduced to us as a body
on the floor, is a more problematic creation once he starts to breathe again.
Louis Hayward, knows his way around feigning the disgruntled drunkard. But he has
trouble conveying the early pie-eyed affections for his wife once the story
retreats into flashback. Barney’s bitterness eventually leads him into the arms
of fellow playwright, Paula Costello (the marvelous Virginia Field). Paula, it
should be noted, promotes Barney’s contempt for Sheila. Enter William Williams
(Richard Basehart in his debut), herein, unrefined as the sensitive poet and
Sheila’s confidant. Also on tap, Tom Conway (George Sander’s brother) as John
Friday, the elder ‘friend’ of the family, and, a youngish Natalie Schafer as,
what else? – a fabulously wealthy socialite, Eloise Shaw. Both Williams and
Friday are privy to Sheila’s murder confession. It matters not however, as,
just like Cinderella, at the stroke of midnight, time is set back an entire
year, allowing Sheila the opportunity to re-think her life. Alas, even with the
wherewithal, knowing now what she knew then, Sheila is powerless to prevent the
past from re-living itself. Williams is committed to a psychiatric facility – a
moment of heartbreak that forces Sheila to reconsider whether fate is real, can
be tempted, or is merely doomed to become a carbon copy of her past imperfect.
Our tale culminates with a reprise of New Year’s Eve. Convinced Sheila is out
to destroy him, Barney violently attacks her, leaving the ever-devoted, and
newly sprung Williams to murder Barney in Sheila’s stead.
Despite being shot on a shoestring,
Repeat Performance sports the look of an elegant noir thriller and
features some excellent performances, perfectly skewed to fill its scant 93-minute
runtime. Is it a perfect pic? Hardly. Louis Hayward’s clumsy turn as Barney never
rises to the occasion. Mercifully, the show is skewed to Joan Leslie, and
Richard Basehart and Tom Conway – a triumvirate of seasoned pros, ably abetted
by Virginia Field’s menacing passion. There is much to admire here. In years
yet to come, Basehart would make fine art from being perpetually cast as the
imperiling conniver. Indeed, in his very next movie, He Walked By Night
(1948), Basehart would build upon a sort of brooding and sinister threat,
marginally tempered by his handsome features, only occasionally to allow him to
play something other than the villain in movies
like, Tension (1950), Moby Dick (1956) and, The Brothers
Karamazov (1958).
For decades, original elements for Repeat
Performance were thought to have been mislaid and/or lost, leaving only
shoddy archived, brutally over-printed and poorly contrasted 5th
generation print masters. Mercifully, fate intervened on the picture’s behalf. A
restoration campaign fronted by the ULCA Film & Television Archive, Packard
Humanities Institute, and Film Noir Foundation, to have taken literally years
to unearth a shockingly well-preserved first-generation print, now under the
auspices of preservationists at indie label, Flicker Alley has resulted in a
near pristine hi-def Blu-ray that will surely please. Contrast is uniformly
excellent. The ravages of decades of neglect have been stripped away.
Age-related artifacts are gone. Film grain is rich and accurately represented.
Fine details come to the forefront. The 2.0 DTS mono is void of hiss and pop.
Truly, and with the exception of its theatrical release, Repeat Performance
has NEVER looked this good before on any home video format.
Flicker Alley, as always, has gone
the extra mile to produce extemporaneous content as valuable to our
appreciation as the feature. An intro from noir connoisseur/author/historian,
Eddie Muller, dovetails into a piece on Joan Leslie by historian, Farran Smith
Nehme. Nora Fiore offers a fairly comprehensive audio commentary. But perhaps
the best extra is Eagle-Lion: A Noir-Stained Legacy – a 35-minute,
densely packed analysis of the studio and its contributions to noir, hosted by
Alan K. Rode. There’s also a digital presentation of the original pressbook and
a beautifully produced, 24-page booklet with an essay by Brian Light. Bottom
line: Repeat Performance has been a forgotten film for far too long. Its
reputation is debatable. It’s a solidly produced, expertly acted movie for the
most part. And the Blu-ray is perfection with goodies to boot. Yes, Flicker
Alley’s $50 plus asking price is a tad steep, but infinitely worth your coin
when you stop to consider how much work has gone into restoring the movie and
producing the extra content for this hi-def release. Very highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out
of 5 – 5 being the best)
3.5
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
5+
Comments