eldorado2 Reviews

Black Angel (1946)

An unjustly neglected noir gem

[17 July 2003]

"Black Angel" (Universal, 1946) is one of the most entertaining films noir of the 1940s, that era when Hollywood discovered the genre and brought to it a high polish.

In this outstanding dark mystery, based on the novel of the same name by Cornell Woolrich, director Roy William Neill guides stars Dan Duryea and June Vincent through a byzantine plot that begins with murder and proceeds through the arrest and conviction of an innocent person, then finally ends with the true murderer being uncovered.

It sounds simple and straightforward, but Neill keeps the audience off balance throughout. Just when we think one piece of evidence will pay off, it doesn't. When we think another bit of business is benign, it turns out to be a crucial clue to the unraveling of the mystery.

Duryea and Vincent are compelling throughout, and they are supported by two excellent character actors, the always-sinister Peter Lorre and future Oscar winner Broderick Crawford.

And I like to think that with "Black Angel," Universal finally atoned for the fatal mistake it made with another Woolrich thriller, "Phantom Lady," in 1944. In the book "Phantom Lady," written by Woolrich under his pseudonym William Irish, the plot was a tightly woven murder mystery, with the revelation of the culprit coming as a surprise to all but the cleverest readers. But when the story was filmed in 1944, Universal made the outrageous decision to reveal the killer's identity to the audience from the start.

In "Black Angel," the murderer's identity is kept from the public until the end, the suspense is sustained, and the final scenes allow the audience to exhale after an hour and a half of diverting tension.

Now that "Black Angel" is available in VHS, you can enjoy one of the finest examples of American film noir on your own screen.

Secretary (2002)

A delicately nuanced performance

[4 February 2003]

Steven Shainberg's "Secretary" is one of those rare small-budget movies that deliver the impact of an A-list blockbuster. Watching it, you feel its powerful images and plot material would be comfortable in the hands of megastars in a budget-straining production.

We are asked to consider the plight of Lee Holloway (Maggie Gyllenhaal), a young woman recently released from a mental institution, and her boss Edward Earle (James Spader), a martinet strung so tight he's a candidate for the rubber room himself.

She's the eponymous Secretary, he's the lawyer she works for. Edward is a stickler for perfection -- so much so, he keeps a supply of red sharpies in his desk drawer to circle typing errors in the letters his secretaries produce. One crucial day, he orders Lee into his office, closes the door, and presents her with a mistake-ridden letter that came from her typewriter. That's right, this dinosaur is so antedeluvian that he refuses to allow computers in his office -- only typewriters.

Edward orders Lee to bend over his desk and look closely at the letter. When she does so, he gives her a sound spanking. She takes it, never budging to resist.

Probably most young women today would head straight for the nearest feminist lawyer's office and file a harrassment complaint. But not this young woman. Lee is a self-mutilant, and the spanking visited on her acts as a release of her masochistic needs. Maggie Gyllenhaal -- in a virtuoso performance -- makes us feel the secretary's relief. We can feel the cathartic effects of the spanking on her psyche.

But "Secretary" isn't about spankings, it's about redemption. Lee and Edward, now drawn together in a symbiotic relationship, realize that they are meant for each other.

Lee is first to realize the truth. Edward tries to deny his redemption, even going so far as to try to fire Lee, to get her out of his life. But the self-tortured Lee is not so easy to dispose of, now that she has had a taste of salvation. After she completes one final, excruciatingly difficult act of love (no spoilers here), Lee is reunited with Edward, who resigns himself to the truth and carries her off in his arms to -- to what? From all appearances, to a life of love everlasting. It's seldom that we see a mainstream film deal with sadomasochism in such a gentle, nonjudgmental manner. The sadism here is not to be laughed at. We may not agree with it, we may shun it in our own lives. But here, there is no denying that it is a cloak for the redemptive, cleansing act of true love.