A Double Life

Ronald Colman

George Cukor's A Double Life is an intriguing backstage thriller from 1947.  As a psychological study and an example of classy Oscar bait, I am somewhat dubious of the film, but Cukor milks the most that he can from the somewhat hackneyed script by Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin. Some have called this a noir and Milton Krasner's cinematography certainly offers brooding shots of the New York locales. Whenever Ronald Colman wanders the streets at night (see above) with the elevated trains thundering overhead, we are in a world that is as close to noir as the respective oeuvres of Cukor, Kanin, and Gordon would ever get. Still, with no missing persons, gunplay or femme fatale, the film's resemblance to noir is only superficial.

Colman plays Anthony John, a titan of the Broadway stage who is finishing up a run in a Noel Coward type comedy entitled A Gentleman's Gentlemen. The opportunity arises to hit the boards in Othello with his ex Brita (Signe Hasso), who he still holds a torch for, set to play Desdemona. The production is a smashing success running, unbelievably, for three years. However, John begins to identify with his character in a psychotic manner. A press agent's (Edmond O'Brien) courting of Brita makes him jealous and prone to murderous rages. Cukor includes numerous mirror and reflection shots that trumpet the film's theme: two faces have I.

The theatrical bona fides of Cukor, Kanin, and Gordon bear fruit in A Double Life in the relaxed ease with which they present the backstage camaraderie of a production. Thespians and crew support each other, but have a love/hate relationship with their audience which one character waspishly refers to as "the beast with a thousand faces". As in their later scripts for Cukor, Gordon and Kanin provide some entertaining periphereal delights that the supporting cast takes advantage of. A group of cops and reporters kibbitzing at a crime scene provides some pungently delivered ripostes, especially from Millard Mitchell. A scene at a wig shop gives some choice little bits for Art Smith, Sid Tomack, and Betsy Blair; the latter of whom was on the rise before being blacklisted. Sometimes, the script tangos with cliche. I groaned when Colman gives a monologue reflecting on his early theatrical days and lamenting that he was stuck saying that immortal line, "Anyone for tennis?" Worse is Colman's strangulation of a chippie in an act of emotional transference that beggars belief.

That chippie is played by Shelley Winters who encounters Colman in a red checked tablecloth Italian restaurant where she is waitressing. Winters' character, Pat, says she is also masseuse, then as now a euphemism for a sex worker. Winters throws herself at Colman in an entertaining fashion and not only gives the film a dash of vinegar, but also its best performance. A performance that gave great impetus to her fledgling film career. Ms. Hasso has never been one of my favorites, though she appeared in such fine films as Heaven Can Wait and A Scandal in Paris. Here she is serviceable, but not memorable. O'Brien would never get the girl in any film I can think of, but is good here in a thankless role. 

Colman's highly praised performance, for which he won his career Oscar, is a different kettle of fish. Kanin and Gordon originally wrote the role for Laurence Olivier who decided to tackle Hamlet instead. Kanin was fairly chummy with Olivier at that time, having been one of the witnesses to his wedding to Vivian Leigh. Colman didn't have the range that Olivier  had and knew it, but gives a decent effort. Some things are out of his ken. The boogie woogie piano playing moment is ludicrous and Colman's attempts at indicating madness by staring at the camera bug eyed seem as dated today as his wearing blackface to play the Moor. The character of Othello needs to exude the musk of a vain warrior, something Colman cannot summon. He is, however, perfect for the matinee idol half of his bifurcated character.

I don't want to overly criticize A Double Life. It has a sense of craft largely absent from commercial filmmaking today. Harry Horner's (The Heiress, The Hustler) production design gives us believably seedy tenant buildings and luxe townhouses that help background their inhabitants. Miklos Rozsa won an Oscar for one of most subtle and effective score. The editing by Robert Parrish is joltingly effective. The cascading series of close-ups that Parrish and Cukor use during performances of Othello do more to create an aura around Colman's acting than Colman's own competent but effete efforts. The lion's share of my bouquets go to Cukor. Whether elegantly framing the goings on at the (now gone) Empire Theatre or generating suspense as the camera navigates the scummy streets of nighttime New York, Cukor creates a felt environment that helps A Double Life rise above its limitations.