Scarlet Street (1945) is a well-made movie, a classic non-detective film noir. Here’s the set-up. A lonely and good middle-aged cashier and Sunday painter, Christopher Cross (Edward G. Robinson) “saves” an attractive young woman, “Kitty” March (Joan Bennett) from being beaten by a guy who is actually her boyfriend, Johnny Prince (Dan Duryea). When the old guy lets her think he is an established and successful artist, her con-artist boyfriend starts scheming to take advantage of the innocent. The suspense is whether the various cons and extortions will work. And how will Chris react? In a desperate attempt to win her friendship and love, Chris steals. He sets her up in a Greenwich Village apartment where he can paint, and where Johnny always seems to be around. Johnny’s get-rich-quick scheme is to sell the paintings and tell Chris they are in storage. At this point, many things could go wrong with the movie and create a flop, but director Fritz Lang and his team handle them all beautifully. The paintings could be inappropriate for Chris and they could be so poor they would not command the attention and price that they eventually do. But the painting were done specifically for the movie by established artist John Decker, and they portray a primitive style (Chris has no formal training and has trouble with perspective) and images which exemplify Chris’s character and life—a lone man with a black umbrella, a street scene with a deadly serpent, a telling portrait of Kitty (“Mona Lisa without the smile”). Kitty could be too hard, cold, and malicious. Indeed, the New York Times reviewer in 1946 complained that Kitty “lacked malevolence.” But she cannot be too nasty or else a gentle man like Chris would be repulsed. The exploitation of Chris could get monotonous. But about the time I started to squirm, I realized that Kitty is just as much a victim of Johnny as Chris is of the Kitty/Johnny duo. Kitty is crazy for Johnny and claims repeatedly that she is in love. Johnny slaps her around, and she likes it. He promises to buy her an engagement ring but doesn’t seem to be making progress in that direction. He uses Kitty’s desire for him to pressure her into more and more schemes. Johnny could be a stereotype, but, as reflected in his clothes, he is a bit more complex. Paramount’s costume designer Travis Banton puts him in expensive pin-striped suits, indicating like a peacock Johnny’s sexual prowess and like a successful business man his wealth. We know, however, that Johnny is broke, and we might begin to wonder about his prowess. With the suits goes a dorky bow-tie and goofy panama hat. While Johnny talks as if he is a brilliant schemer, he is primarily greedy, and as soon as he dreams up the painting scam, we—and Kitty—sense that he has not thought this one through and that things may well unravel. Kitty, as her name suggests, could have been a stereotypical femme fatale, but she is more complicated than that. She does not lure an innocent old man into her web of intrigue: He chases after her. She does not leap at the chance to exploit him: Johnny comes up with the ideas, she generally has reservations, and then she executes the con well. Far from being an omniscient schemer, she is hopelessly in love with Johnny and is used and abused by him much like she and Johnny treat Chris. Speaking of Chris, he could have remained the simple innocent exploited by crooks, but we soon realize that besides being good, Chris is also pathetically weak. The triangle is developed with excellent acting for that time, fine dialogue which is simultaneously snappy and realistic, and moody black and white photography by the talented Milton Krasner. Not a pretty picture, but very well done.
Jim Bell
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