Thursday, September 1, 2022

BACK STREET (John M. Stahl, 1932)

 

Ray lives for the sunbeams that occasionally flicker in the darkness of her back street affair with a wealthy paramour. Hers is a life of a simple regret, a “What If?” moment stamped in time that haunts her to their dying days. John Stahl’s dull and lifeless Direction is elevated a grade because of DP Karl Freund’s excellent photography! Oh, and you get to hear the word flibbertigibbet.

In the good old days before the Eighteenth Amendment (or so the film declares) life was so much more fun and carefree. Ray is a party clown who thrives on the affections of her suitors (though she makes sure to aver her Virginity during a marriage proposal) but has never fallen head-over-heels in love. Kurt Shendler is a local Bicycle Shop owner who is the first to propose and his desire remains constant throughout the years as their paths cross again. But Ray meets Walter and falls in love but, of course, he’s a man about to be married. He may change his mind and invites Ray to a local bandstand show to meet his mother before the wedding, but Ray is sidelined by her stepsister’s pregnant revelation. This is the moment of regret that flashes back in the final scene. Could her life of secret love tempered with loneliness and misery have been different if she wasn’t late that afternoon? Unfortunately, the romance is dominated by Walter’s patriarchal and pathological needs and wants while Ray is a willing victim, choosing to be his doormat.

Irene Dunne is Ray, beautiful but dimensionless in this role who shares practically no silver screen chemistry with her co-star John Boles. Contrast this film with a similar theme in Capra’s FORBIDDEN and you’ll find you love Stanwyck but feel little sympathy for Dunne’s character. Here, Ray is forced by Walter to quit her job to become the furniture in his secret bordello, more or less. He even excoriates her for having hobbies to pass the time while he’s on a months-long trip to Europe. And Walter even forgets to deposit money to Ray’s account while he’s away though I’m sure he’s quick to deposit something else upon his return! Financial power and control over Ray are a form of abuse that she accepts but, to Walter, it’s embedded in his DNA: it’s just a casual gaffe. Walter isn’t portrayed as a purposeful cad but just a typical one. When Walter dies of a coronary in the conclusion it’s learned that he doesn’t even mention her in his Will. Even Adolphe Menjou scrawls an addendum for Stanwyck in Capra’s final act but here, the son has to promise her an allowance. But she dies of a broken heart, or something.

The film is mostly pointless and obtuse but it’s still worth your time just to experience Karl Freund’s photography. The first shot of the film has Freund slowly moving his camera through a large crowd of people dancing and drinking in a nightclub. He focuses upon a big frosty mug of beer (the story begins before the 18th, remember?) and tracks from table to table. In a laugh-out-loud moment he ends on a family dinner with two small children downing their own tall glasses of brew! Brilliant! Freund paints each set with subtle lighting and shadow, details which are better served for a better film. His camera moves from long shot to medium close-up a number of times, allowing the characters to feel more real and embedded in their environment instead of the typical edit to medium shot. The scene at the bandstand is exceptional as Ray moves against the crowd and his camera, slightly elevated and from behind, follows her in a long take before he reverses shot. The crowd moves like a flashflood that she fights against, a riptide to pull her under in her anguish. It a nice touch and reminiscent of Kurosawa’s much later design of movement in his masterful films! Freund captures a deep focus long-shot of a woman nearly burning to death and one is left to puzzle over the logistics of that stunt. His use of tonal lighting shifts in the final scene is sadly beautiful as Ray lays her head down to sleep...forever.

Final Grade: (C)