Shanghai Lady suffers from tampering with her studio time


Film Noir Friday: The Lady of Shanghai

The Lady of Shanghai (1947) did not come easily for Orson Welles. No movie ever really made after its breakthrough, the great Citizen Kane (1941), the film that put him on the map and in the sights of the Hollywood establishment. They wanted little to do with this iconoclastic New York hotshot, and for the rest of his life, Welles struggled to achieve a self-sustaining artistic vision. That so many amazing movies have come out of this struggle, like The Lady of Shanghai, surely says something about his cinematic gift, an inherent talent that could neither be restricted nor denied.

It took considerable effort for Welles to convince Harry Cohn to support the film. Welles had three characteristics on his directorial resume, and although Citizen Kane and The magnificent Ambersons (1942) were financially unsuccessful, his third film, The foreigner (1946), was. “You’re only as good as your last movie,” as the Hollywood saying goes, so it was on that basis that Colombia’s notoriously ruthless studio head even entertained the director. Welles needed money to financially stabilize his musical “Around the World in 80 Days”. direct and featured in the film. Part of the image’s potential commercial viability came from his main wife (and Welles’ genuine romantic interest), Rita Hayworth, who had just emerged from her extraordinary tour in Gilda (1946). Much to Cohn’s chagrin, however, Welles, the Perpetual Rebel, put the famous redhead in platinum blonde to death.

In any case, The Lady of Shanghai was done. And it was a box office disaster. But today it’s a classic.

With an evocative chiaroscuro photograph attributed to Charles Lawton Jr. (he was one of three filmmakers who actually worked on the film), The Lady of Shanghai has all the attributes of a quintessence black. There is the first person narration told in the flashback: “Some people can sense danger. Not me. “There is the plot fatal Woman. There is a chance encounter, a chance relationship, and a chance murder. There are dark figures and dark settings (although sometimes it is also one of the sunniest black), and there’s a pervasive mystery about everyone, their never fully professed intentions and motives leading to hidden danger around every turn.

It’s clear right away that someone in the movie is working at an angle… or they all do. “Here is the crime,” George Grisby (Glenn Anders) toasts, a little too cheerfully. Soon he reveals the reason for his joy: he has an ingenious plan to make money. He wants Michael O’Hara (Welles) to say he killed him. Grisby can then disappear and leave behind his supposed imperturbable life, and without there being a body, O’Hara will not be doomed. The only thing though, is he telling the truth? Elsa Bannister (Hayworth) and her husband (and Grisby’s legal partner) Arthur (Everett Sloane) have their own goals, none of which seem to fit together. Who is really supposed to die and who will benefit the most? Maybe this is all a bit complicated at times, and it certainly baffles O’Hara, but it holds up enough to make it a compelling thriller.

For his part, O’Hara says he’s killed a man before, so we’re assuming he’s been around the block once or twice. He is spiritual, worldly, and sometimes wiser than he should be. This makes him confrontational and breeds unintentional animosity. Presumably, then, he would know when he’s had. But that still doesn’t prevent her from gaining the upper hand, and all that for a lady.

Image: Columbia Pictures

Welles’ visual inventiveness is one of the hallmarks, if not the main, of his work. The Lady of Shanghai is no exception. Staging a scene in a dark aquarium, Welles plays beautifully with the light bouncing and rippling on the glass water. And at the end of the film, in its climax and most famous streak, Welles dazzles with a montage of camera angles, movement and other wacky creative techniques as a final shootout takes place in a crazy park house. attractions, with mirrors on mirrors reflecting and deceiving the characters. With Welles at his best, even mundane exchanges between two still individuals are shown from unusual angles with carefully orchestrated lighting designs.

Welles was a good actor as well, and while his Irish accent isn’t quite convincing here, his performance is respectable. More than anything, he simply has a singular presence, in voice and body, which in many cases has made up for what might have been lacking in any given role. Hayworth, no doubt a beauty, is comparatively underutilized. She serves her character’s potentially underhanded purpose well, but doesn’t do much else to stand out in terms of narrative impact. The rest of the main cast, Anders and Sloane in particular, are devilishly eccentric and shady. Anders is an endlessly irritating antagonist, and Sloane, hobbling like the crippled Bannister, gets his best moment during a court case full of drama, jokes, and shock, leading to a revealing conclusion.

Yes, The Lady of Shanghai is now a classic. But like so many of Welles ‘films, this current assessment doesn’t save him from the studio’s falsification of his day: Columbia executives cut the image from 155 minutes to 87 minutes and ignored almost all of Welles’ editorial suggestions. Still amazing though, like The magnificent Ambersons, Othello (1952), or Touch evil (1958) is how the brilliance manages to show through, despite artistic interference, budgetary constraints or the failure of the equally intangible box office. There is, and there has been, no doubt about the genius of Orson Welles.

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