The Great Flamarion is directed by Anthony Mann and collectively written by Anne Wigton, Heinz Herald, Richard Weil and Vicki Baum. It stars Erich von Stroheim, Mary Beth Hughes, Dan Duryea, Stephen Barclay, Lester Allen and Esther Howard. Music is by Alexander Laszlo and cinematography by James S. Brown Jr.
Back stage of a vaudeville show and a woman is killed, the perpetrator of the crime escapes up into the rafters. Soon he falls to the ground, and cradled by one of the stage employees, he tells a story of lust, deceit, murder and broken hearts...
Though it falls into a familiar subset of film noir that encompasses the obsessive dupe, reference Criss Cross, The Killers, Scarlet Street et al, Anthony Mann's film has a most interesting structure. Story is essentially told from the mouth of a dying man, his guilt set in stone, we spin to flashbacks and narration as The Great Flamarion (Stroheim) himself clues us in to the dangers of not following your brain, but what's in your underwear.
Flamarion, wonderfully essayed by the acid faced Stroheim, is a sharp-shooter on the vaudeville circuit. Once burned in love years previously, he now lives only for his work and he's friendless, miserable and intolerable to work for. His two assistants are husband and wife team Connie (Hughes) and Al (Duryea) Wallace, he's a drunk and she's out for what she can get, and what she wants at this moment in time spells trouble for Flamarion and Al. So begins a treacherous tale as a once wise and closed off man falls hook, line and sinker for a pair of shapely legs young enough to be propping up his daughter.
Connie Wallace (Hughes excellent) is one of the classic femme fatales, she's not just duping one man, not even two, her capacities for feathering her own nest are enormous. Watching her break down Flamarion's walls is pitch black stuff, as is Flamarion's pitiful descent into becoming a broken man, while Duryea's (another in his long line of great film noir losers) Al roams the edges of the frame as a pitiful drunk stumbling towards doom. The dialogue may not always catch the mood right, but as a story, performed and written, it's clinical noir.
Out of Republic Studios, there's obviously budget restrictions, but Mann was a shrewd director in noir circles and crafts a tight and crafty picture. It's never overtly expressionistic but the all round effect garnered by the lighting techniques pumps the haunting like tale with atmosphere. There's also a gentle pulse of sexual politics in the narrative, and saucy suggestion as well, with the director asking us to peek under the curtain to spy a world of horny sad-sacks and dangerous females.
It's not front line Mann or as good as Scarlet Street (released after The Great Flamarion), but it is a little noir gem. With top performances, pitch black plotting and a message that tells us to never take our eye off the ball, it's very much recommended to the film noir faithful. 8/10
Back stage of a vaudeville show and a woman is killed, the perpetrator of the crime escapes up into the rafters. Soon he falls to the ground, and cradled by one of the stage employees, he tells a story of lust, deceit, murder and broken hearts...
Though it falls into a familiar subset of film noir that encompasses the obsessive dupe, reference Criss Cross, The Killers, Scarlet Street et al, Anthony Mann's film has a most interesting structure. Story is essentially told from the mouth of a dying man, his guilt set in stone, we spin to flashbacks and narration as The Great Flamarion (Stroheim) himself clues us in to the dangers of not following your brain, but what's in your underwear.
Flamarion, wonderfully essayed by the acid faced Stroheim, is a sharp-shooter on the vaudeville circuit. Once burned in love years previously, he now lives only for his work and he's friendless, miserable and intolerable to work for. His two assistants are husband and wife team Connie (Hughes) and Al (Duryea) Wallace, he's a drunk and she's out for what she can get, and what she wants at this moment in time spells trouble for Flamarion and Al. So begins a treacherous tale as a once wise and closed off man falls hook, line and sinker for a pair of shapely legs young enough to be propping up his daughter.
Connie Wallace (Hughes excellent) is one of the classic femme fatales, she's not just duping one man, not even two, her capacities for feathering her own nest are enormous. Watching her break down Flamarion's walls is pitch black stuff, as is Flamarion's pitiful descent into becoming a broken man, while Duryea's (another in his long line of great film noir losers) Al roams the edges of the frame as a pitiful drunk stumbling towards doom. The dialogue may not always catch the mood right, but as a story, performed and written, it's clinical noir.
Out of Republic Studios, there's obviously budget restrictions, but Mann was a shrewd director in noir circles and crafts a tight and crafty picture. It's never overtly expressionistic but the all round effect garnered by the lighting techniques pumps the haunting like tale with atmosphere. There's also a gentle pulse of sexual politics in the narrative, and saucy suggestion as well, with the director asking us to peek under the curtain to spy a world of horny sad-sacks and dangerous females.
It's not front line Mann or as good as Scarlet Street (released after The Great Flamarion), but it is a little noir gem. With top performances, pitch black plotting and a message that tells us to never take our eye off the ball, it's very much recommended to the film noir faithful. 8/10