A lush example of the murder mystery genre, Laura (1944) is a leisurely delight. A body, shot in the face with a shotgun, is found in the entryway of a high end apartment by the maid, and the hunt is on for Laura Hunt’s (ahem!) killer. Is it her long-time mentor and (perhaps) lover, the caustically witty and famous columnist, Waldo Lydecker? Is it her alleged fiancee and wastrel, Shelby Carpenter? Is it the woman who also loves Shelby, Diane Redfern?
Is it the woman who also loves Shelby, Ann Treadwell? Was it the maid, Bessy?
Heck, we even speculated it was the cop, the hard-boiled Mark McPherson.
This is a quietly all-around well-made movie, featuring luscious, intriguing sets. But the real treat is the competition between a story that weaves together questions of guilt, love, and passion, and the actors who are performing the story. To the former are the strengths of understanding the difference between information and critical information, as we try to discern who committed this horrific crime – and why? And dialog which clarifies the characters for us – the rapid fire patter of the columnist, Lydecko, the brusque, brooding lines of McPherson, and the languid, vague inspidities of the wastrel, Carpenter. We hear them and they help us zero in on the essence of these characters. But along with that comes a plot featuring move and counter-move, ambiguities and how they pain both he who has to interpret those ambiguities – and she who delivers them. Did she break her word to him – or did she just break his word to himself?
But characters need actors, and these actors deliver. Dana Andrews is a particular standout as the cop, McPherson, clearly communicating that this is a man with some inner demons, leaving us wondering how they drive him – to find guilty murderers, or be one himself? But matching him is Clifton Webb as the ascerbic Lydecko, so often ready with a murderous quip, a prick pried from his shell by the beautiful Laura Hunt. Laura, seen in flashbacks, and fiancee Carpenter, played by an absolutely towering Vincent Price, are forced to the second tier in this movie, despite valiant efforts. But even outside of the main cast, regardless of very limited minutes, both the maid Bessy and Carpenter’s third place lover, Ann Treadwell, are brought to devious life by performances which stir up questions about themselves and human nature which well-nigh demand movies in themselves to answer. Kudos to both story and actors for giving them backgrounds which actually, in one case, made my skin crawl. But, perhaps most to the entire movie’s credit, afterwards my Arts Editor and I talked out several small plot holes – but we didn’t care. The momentum of the movie carried us through those and on to the finale.
This is a movie which can grab your attention and not let go until the final shot is fired and the clock runs out on our murderer.
Strongly Recommended.
