Niagara (1953)
"Well she sure got herself an armful of groceries."
If there as any noir film that holds it noir gloom even though shot largely in daylight, not in a city, and in vivid color, Niagara is it. There are a handful of color noir films, not including some from the 1970s and later that get swept into the category in an expansive but not always helpful way (Chinatown, for one). But this is the real deal, and it's not a perfect film by any means, but it's also a neglected movie, valuable for it's unique feel, for the terrific night scenes it does have, and for the Niagara Falls, which Hitchcock was probably jealous of. There are lots of Hitchcock parallels--famous landmark for a setting, stereotypes played both ways, calm before the disaster, undisguised back projection and its confession of open artifice, innocents caught in a murderous world--but it it's better to see what this movie has on its own terms.
One thing Niagara has is Marilyn Monroe playing Rose Loomis. Monroe the actress is forced (or reinforced) into her recurring role as helpless siren, but she also shows off as the actress she always was, not brilliant, but very effective and smart. The disdain she has in a momentary sneer as she rolls over the second time in bed in her first scene is the first of a thousand good examples--listen to her in the shower backlit, or watch her at the souvenir shop, or on the phone. With a number of adjustments, her role here could have created a paradigm for the two-faced femme-fatale in the 1950s--her coy chill, her thinly disguised greed, her human failings. We never mind sympathizing with a criminal when she is going down at the end if she has earlier shown her complexity and vulnerability.
Joseph Cotten is a problem. He's a terrific actor, but he's not the most beguiling of lead men, nor the sexiest. Wells probably had him figured out best in Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons, and Hitchcock used him beautifully in Shadow of a Doubt, all three movies from a decade earlier. Cukor didn't utilize Cotten's innate likability very well in Gaslight but he tried. Here, Hathaway doesn't really have charm as an option, because Cotten's role as George Loomis is endlessly miserable and self-pitying. Playing against his grain leaves us a little uncomfortable, and the film a little awkward.
As usual with films of this type, there are small things that loom large. After getting soaked on purpose in the spray of the falls at the start of the film (and announcing his desire to find his independence), Cotten, as George Loomis, steps to one side to avoid the spray of a little sprinkler along the sidewalk. There is something here about a man who is making choices, who wants his life to be big but little things are getting in the way. The outdoor dancing scene is an idealized but really delicious view of "youth culture" as the big band era is about to shift to all out rock and roll (remember, it's 1952 when filmed). Monroe even gets to sing a little, and though the camera goes too static here (and elsewhere), the color and dramatic lighting compensate.
If there is one thing that drags the film down it's the clumsy script by Charles Brackett, who has some great scripts to his credit. This one is not only badly written in spots, but also improbable in several key scenes. Singlehandedly, it keeps Niagara falling. Right behind is the hyperbolic acting of the other male lead, the cheery Casey Adams playing the painfully sexist Ray Cutler. It's tough to watch (though even more excessive is the barrel of laughs in Don Wilson playing a goofy executive), and so you wait it out and gather up the plot. Jean Peters playing the good, well adjusted Polly Cutler is at first a small cliché, but her role grows, and grows on you, so by the dramatic end you are "stuck on her" the way she says Cotten is stuck on Monroe, and she makes up for a lot slack elsewhere. The contrast of the two couples--the Monroe/Cotten dysfunctional disaster waiting to happen and the too perfect cheery Adams/Peters pair--is at the serious core to the movie.
The high drama, taking place as both a murder gone wrong and as the falls itself, with its scenery and fabulous tourist machinery, hooks us all along, capping it with the final sweep down the river toward the falls (and over it). Cotten warns earlier in the movie's key metaphoric speech. "Let me tell you something. You're young, you're in love. Well I'll give you a warning. Don't let it get out of hand like those falls out there. Up above, did you ever see the river up above the falls? It's calm and easy. You throw in a log it just floats around. Let it move a little further down and it get going fast. It hits some rocks and, in a minute it's in the lower rapids, and nothing in the world including God himself I suppose can keep it from going over the edge. It just goes."
"Well she sure got herself an armful of groceries."
If there as any noir film that holds it noir gloom even though shot largely in daylight, not in a city, and in vivid color, Niagara is it. There are a handful of color noir films, not including some from the 1970s and later that get swept into the category in an expansive but not always helpful way (Chinatown, for one). But this is the real deal, and it's not a perfect film by any means, but it's also a neglected movie, valuable for it's unique feel, for the terrific night scenes it does have, and for the Niagara Falls, which Hitchcock was probably jealous of. There are lots of Hitchcock parallels--famous landmark for a setting, stereotypes played both ways, calm before the disaster, undisguised back projection and its confession of open artifice, innocents caught in a murderous world--but it it's better to see what this movie has on its own terms.
One thing Niagara has is Marilyn Monroe playing Rose Loomis. Monroe the actress is forced (or reinforced) into her recurring role as helpless siren, but she also shows off as the actress she always was, not brilliant, but very effective and smart. The disdain she has in a momentary sneer as she rolls over the second time in bed in her first scene is the first of a thousand good examples--listen to her in the shower backlit, or watch her at the souvenir shop, or on the phone. With a number of adjustments, her role here could have created a paradigm for the two-faced femme-fatale in the 1950s--her coy chill, her thinly disguised greed, her human failings. We never mind sympathizing with a criminal when she is going down at the end if she has earlier shown her complexity and vulnerability.
Joseph Cotten is a problem. He's a terrific actor, but he's not the most beguiling of lead men, nor the sexiest. Wells probably had him figured out best in Citizen Kane and The Magnificent Ambersons, and Hitchcock used him beautifully in Shadow of a Doubt, all three movies from a decade earlier. Cukor didn't utilize Cotten's innate likability very well in Gaslight but he tried. Here, Hathaway doesn't really have charm as an option, because Cotten's role as George Loomis is endlessly miserable and self-pitying. Playing against his grain leaves us a little uncomfortable, and the film a little awkward.
As usual with films of this type, there are small things that loom large. After getting soaked on purpose in the spray of the falls at the start of the film (and announcing his desire to find his independence), Cotten, as George Loomis, steps to one side to avoid the spray of a little sprinkler along the sidewalk. There is something here about a man who is making choices, who wants his life to be big but little things are getting in the way. The outdoor dancing scene is an idealized but really delicious view of "youth culture" as the big band era is about to shift to all out rock and roll (remember, it's 1952 when filmed). Monroe even gets to sing a little, and though the camera goes too static here (and elsewhere), the color and dramatic lighting compensate.
If there is one thing that drags the film down it's the clumsy script by Charles Brackett, who has some great scripts to his credit. This one is not only badly written in spots, but also improbable in several key scenes. Singlehandedly, it keeps Niagara falling. Right behind is the hyperbolic acting of the other male lead, the cheery Casey Adams playing the painfully sexist Ray Cutler. It's tough to watch (though even more excessive is the barrel of laughs in Don Wilson playing a goofy executive), and so you wait it out and gather up the plot. Jean Peters playing the good, well adjusted Polly Cutler is at first a small cliché, but her role grows, and grows on you, so by the dramatic end you are "stuck on her" the way she says Cotten is stuck on Monroe, and she makes up for a lot slack elsewhere. The contrast of the two couples--the Monroe/Cotten dysfunctional disaster waiting to happen and the too perfect cheery Adams/Peters pair--is at the serious core to the movie.
The high drama, taking place as both a murder gone wrong and as the falls itself, with its scenery and fabulous tourist machinery, hooks us all along, capping it with the final sweep down the river toward the falls (and over it). Cotten warns earlier in the movie's key metaphoric speech. "Let me tell you something. You're young, you're in love. Well I'll give you a warning. Don't let it get out of hand like those falls out there. Up above, did you ever see the river up above the falls? It's calm and easy. You throw in a log it just floats around. Let it move a little further down and it get going fast. It hits some rocks and, in a minute it's in the lower rapids, and nothing in the world including God himself I suppose can keep it from going over the edge. It just goes."