Classic Movie Review: Laura
By Josh Spiegel
August 7, 2009
BoxOfficeProphets.com
What stands out with Laura, produced and directed by Otto Preminger, is that it's relatively bereft of big-name stars, or at least people who we consider big-name stars from the 1940s, or from film noir in general. The most recognizable name in this cast, to most of you, will be that of horror-movie stalwart Vincent Price. Price plays Shelby Carpenter, a raffish Southern playboy (oh yes, dear readers: Price does a Southern accent, and his goofy attempts simply make the performance even campier). Aside from Price, Laura stars Clifton Webb as a gay journalist with jealousy on the brain, Dana Andrews as a dedicated cop who begins to fall in love with the least likely person, and Gene Tierney as the titular woman who the movie - and all the characters within it - revolves around.
Most film buffs know very well, of course, about the infamous Hayes Code, which was heavily enforced from the early 1930s to the mid-1960s in Hollywood. In essence, the Hayes Code was to movies then what the Motion Picture Association of America is to movies now...except the Hayes Code was worse. This was a time when movies couldn't have sex onscreen; hell, if two characters were kissing (and you know they couldn't be of the same gender), they could only do so for a few seconds at a time; this rule was famously skewered in the Hitchcock classic Notorious. Basically, for filmmakers to bring more adult content to the masses, they had to skirt around things a lot. The best example in Laura is Webb's character, Waldo Lydecker. Lydecker, a slimy New York journalist, is strongly implied to be gay, but it's never said.
How does Preminger make this clear to the discerning audience member without actually saying it? Well, for example, he opens the movie with Lydecker being interrogated by that dedicated cop, Mark McPherson. In the bathroom. In the bathtub, actually. Naked. Not just that, but Webb's delivery of all his lines in this scene is not only meant to be wicked, but some kind of lascivious, too. He throws out the challenge to McPherson to throw him a towel, and everyone in and out of the movie knows exactly what he's talking about. Yet, for all the noir elements present in Laura, a movie like this is more about the fantasies that are represented by the perfect woman, what the perfect woman is, and what such a woman can do to even the best of men.
Laura begins, as I said, in Lydecker's bathroom, but during the opening credits, we're given a look at the title character through an elegant portrait. Once those credits and the infamous theme end, we realize why McPherson is talking to Lydecker: Laura is dead. Someone has murdered her, and McPherson's on the case. Lydecker, a witty, erudite socialite-turned-writer, is so willing to help as best he can with the case that he offers his services as a thinker to McPherson; in short, the first third of the movie involves this unlikely duo introducing the audience to all of the important characters, or all of the characters who could have bumped Laura off. What throws even Lydecker off a bit is the realization he comes to after that first third of the movie: based on his reminiscences and that portrait, McPherson is falling in love with Laura.
You read that right. Laura is not only a great film noir to become immersed in, but it's also what could easily be the dreamiest of the genre. Frankly, a movie like this becomes more apparent as an influence on David Lynch's filmography, specifically his 2001 classic Mulholland Dr. Certainly, that modern-day noir also has some connections to other noir entries, including 1958's Vertigo, but so many elements of Laura could have turned Lynch into the oddball filmmaker he is, so entranced by women of a certain look, so entranced by square-jawed lawmen falling in love with those women. Coming back to Laura, I hesitate a bit to fully explain what lands the movie into its complete dreamy state, but seeing as the movie is 65-years-old, I'm willing to make a jump.
About halfway through, we're given our final chance to walk away from Laura. At this point, McPherson has encountered Lydecker, whose scummy nature is always just below the thin veneer of sly charm; he's seen Shelby, whose allegiances shift with each soft breeze, whether it's to Laura, a model named Diane, or Laura's older aunt; he's met Anne, Laura's aunt. In some ways, McPherson has also met Laura, if only through flashbacks and a well-rendered painting; along with her last bits of clothing and perfume, that's all he needs to fall in love with a vision. McPherson nods off, letting that vision take over his mind. When he wakes up...the vision is reality. Laura walks back into the life she left behind, whether for real or for only a weekend in the country. Yes, Laura's apparently not dead, and never was.
It's due credit to Preminger and the rest of the cast and crew that only 45 minutes have gone by at this point, and we're completely sold on the idea that Laura is dead. I'm not really sure that she's ever alive in this movie, but the most simplistic viewing would tell you that she's as alive as anyone else in this story. Still, you have to wonder; how often have you fallen asleep, thinking about a beautiful woman, and there she appears in what amounts to a living dream? What's more, McPherson has fallen in love with this woman and manages to get her to do the same within only 45 more minutes, despite having a fiancé, a jealous journalist, and many others advising her to do otherwise, to love them instead.
The point here is that Laura could easily be about a dream, about an immensely lonely man who creates his own happiness. All that's missing is that postscript, where McPherson realizes his own cruel joke. Still, reading into Laura or not, it's a great, great movie. The performances are all uniformly excellent within the confines of the traditional film noir. The colorful ones don't come from Andrews or Tierney, who are both savvy enough to be extremely low-key in their line readings. Tierney, in particular, is measured without being perfectly memorable. We can see why someone like Lydecker wants to control Laura, and why all the men in the movie are bewitched by her, but you get the feeling that you'd have to meet her in person to fully understand the spell she puts on people.
It's the supporting players who dominate Laura, specifically Webb. He sells viciousness as easily as grief, even if we're always pretty confident that he never feels anything other than the most venal of emotions. Price is also good, if a bit too goofy and gangly. I imagine that, when this film was released, he fit perfectly as the aw-shucks loverboy who has a few dalliances on the side. Now, though, Price's placement in cinema is so firmly set that it's hard to see him as anything other than a cackling madman. Laura is, possibly, the best gem of the film noir genre, mostly because you may not have seen or heard of it, as it battles constantly against more famous noirs. As hypnotic, dark, and flashy as noir can get, this is one of the best you'll get a chance to see.