Blu-ray Review: The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers is one of those really dark films noir that tends to get away with more than it seems to be getting away with. Barbara Stanwyck is the name-above-the-title star, and the title character. She's the kind that makes an entrance, if you know what I mean. The entire scene changes when she walks into a room. But the movie is actually about Sam Masterson (Van Heflin), and how he finds Martha again. And even then, the movie is thrown further off kilter with a lengthy prologue, populated by child actors, and also a romance for Heflin. And yet it all comes together beautifully.

In the prologue, Martha accidentally kills her mean, cruel auntie (Judith Anderson). A nerdy, doting boy Walter O'Neil -- whose father is Martha's tutor -- witnesses it. Young Sam is there as well, but he gets away and leaves town. Years later, they're all grown up. Sam drifts into town again, and -- stranded by a flat tire -- ends up finding his old friends again. Walter (Kirk Douglas, in his movie debut) is now the District Attorney, and Martha has turned her family fortune into an empire. Martha and Walter worry that Sam has come back to blackmail them. But Sam only wants to get his car and leave. He would also like to take the pretty jailbird Toni (Lizabeth Scott) with him.

Sixteen years earlier director Lewis Milestone made the World War One phenomenon, All Quiet on the Western Front, but he did not have a career that lived up to that achievement. He does a serviceable job on Martha Ivers, accentuating the feeling of being trapped, constricted, and corrupted by money and power -- including Walter's blatant alcoholism -- crossed with Sam's footloose-and-fancy-free lifestyle. The script came from Robert Rossen, who later directed The Hustler, and the messages are likely from him. Still, there are plenty of lurking, shadowy threats to make this one a thrill.

HD Cinema Classics has released one of their public domain specials, a Blu-ray accompanied by a bonus DVD. It comes with a "restoration comparison" so we can see the new high quality. In truth, it's a bit soft and fuzzy, but bright and totally watchable. It also has a commentary track by noir expert William Hare, a trailer, and a postcard inside the box.

DVD Review: No Man of Her Own (1950)

Cornell Woolrich's 1948 novel I Married a Dead Man (originally published under his pseudonym William Irish) has been filmed many times, but -- despite its wimpy title -- this film noir starring Barbara Stanwyck is probably the definitive version.

The story is an almost perfect coincidence. A pregnant woman, Helen (Stanwyck), boards a train with just a few coins left in her pocket and no idea what she's going to do. She meets a friendly couple; they offer her a seat. The young woman is also pregnant. The women go to the restroom together, the young woman lets Helen try on her wedding ring, and reveals the juicy tidbit that she has never met her husband's family, and indeed, they have no idea what she even looks like. At that point, the train crashes, and the young couple dies. Helen is whisked to the hospital, mistaken for the young pregnant woman, Patrice.

Stanwyck beautifully expresses her inner torment (with a bit of interior monologue) as she decides to keep up the ruse, for the baby. It's a perfect setup, except for the fact that one other person knows who Helen really is. To make matters more complicated, she feels a little romantic spark with the dead man's brother, Bill (John Lund).

Most of the strength of the movie rests on Stanwyck -- one of the greatest of all screen actresses -- and her ability to sell this story. She rarely rests or accepts her situation. In several scenes, she lets her guard down -- such as a scene in which she's testing a new ball-point pen in a shop and accidentally writes "Helen" instead of "Patrice" -- and then falls into a twist of rage and fear for forgetting her situation for an instant.

The director, Mitchell Leisen, is not among Hollywood's most celebrated. Today he is probably best known for comedy/romances like Midnight (1939), and two Preston Sturges screenplays, Easy Living (1937) and Remember the Night (1940). No Man of Her Own is his only film noir, and he seems tentatively intrigued with shadows. The film's final sequence has a couple of striking single shots: Bill climbing a crooked staircase, engulfed in steam from a passing train. Then there's the throwaway bit of dialogue about how the dead man's body made it onto the train -- but his head didn't. If Leisen had a dark side, this one of the few times he was able to let it out.

Meanwhile, Woolrich stories had been, and continue to be adapted for movies and TV, including Jacques Tourneur's The Leopard Man (1943), Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window (1954), and Francois Truffaut's The Bride Wore Black (1968).

Olive Films released this item from the Paramount vaults. It has no extras, but the quality is fine, and it's most welcome.