Scarlet Street

If he were mean or vicious or if he'd bawl me out or something, I'd like him better. Christopher Cross, in middle aged, and in a life going nowhere and devoid of love and inspiration. Till one evening he rescues Kitty March from a mugger, it's the start of a relationship that has far reaching consequences for them, and those closest to them. The previous year director Fritz Lang had made The Woman In The Window, a film that was hugely popular with critics and fans alike. Here he reunites from that excellent film with Edward G. Robinson, Joan Bennett and Dan Duryea, the result being what can arguably be described as one of the best exponents of Film Noir's dark sensibilities. Adapting from works by André Mouézy-Éon and Georges de La Fouchardière (novel and play), this story of desperate love and greedy deceit had already had a big screen adaptation from Jean Renoir in 1931 as La chienne, which appropriately enough translates as The Bitch! Now there's a Noir title if ever there was one! What Lang does with this adaptation is drip his own expressionism all over it, whilst crucially he doesn't ease off from the harsher aspects of the story. This is nasty, cruel stuff, and with Lang at the time feeling a bit abused and used by the studio system he was slave to, who better to darkly cloak a sordid story with a biting edge? Is it purely coincidence that Lang took on this film about a struggling artist who's vision is stifled by another? Possibly not one is inclined to feel. Edward G. Robinson is fabulous as the pathetic Chris Cross. Married to a wife who constantly heckles and belittles him (Rosalind Ivan), Robinson's take on Cross garners empathy by the shed load, so much so that once Kitty (Bennett) and her beau, Johnny Prince (Duryea), start to scheme a scam on Chris, the audience are feeling as desperate as Cross was himself at the start of the movie. Few noir guys have so meekly fell under a femme fatale's spell as the way Cross does for Kitty here. But such is Lang's atmospherics, you not only sense that it's going to go bad, you expect it to, and naturally Robinson is just the man to punch us in the guts with added impetus. Bennett and Duryea are very convincing, almost spitefully enjoying taking the hapless Robinson character for everything they can, and the visuals, especially during the bleak, shadowy last couple of reels, cap the mood perfectly. This film is in truth probably saying more about its director than anything else that he made. And in fact it was said to be one of his all time favourites. That's nice to find out because it finds him on particularly good, and yes, devilish form. Grim, brilliant and essential film noir. 9/10

It's interesting to see Edward G. Robinson cast as the downtrodden bank cashier, trapped in a loveless marriage, who has a penchant for painting. He comes to the rescue of a damsel in distress "Kitty March" (Joan Bennett) who is having a tough time with her loutish boyfriend "Johnny Prince" (Dan Duryea). He falls for her hook, line and sinker only to discover she has assumed that he is a wealthy man and she tries to manipulate and embezzle from him. Soon, he is caught in a cyclical trap and we know he is heading for disaster. What is most odd is the sight of Robinson in an apron preparing some liver. A clever crime thriller from Fritz Lang with good performances from the three principals.

Why on earth did they decide to colourize _Scarlet Street_? This is a film where every shadow, every drop of rain, and every grimy street corner needs to be black and white to intensify its moody, bleak atmosphere. The grayscale isn’t just aesthetic; it’s the very essence of the story’s dark descent and the bleakness surrounding its characters. Stripped of that stark, high-contrast style, it loses the bite and grit that makes it a quintessential noir. The decision to colourize it feels almost sacrilegious, robbing it of its noir identity and the raw power of Fritz Lang’s vision. This vision should be preserved and respected. Thankfully, I found a version of _Scarlet Street_ that had not been subjected to unnecessary and destructive colourization. In its original black-and-white, the film finally exuded that dark, oppressive vibe that colour could never capture, allowing Lang's film to hit the way intended. Oh, and of course, that one scene Tarantino would love.