Footsteps in the Fog (1955)
Some kind of cross between a Bronte drama (like Jane Eyre) and a British crime film. And it falls a little flat for that very reason, being neither one very well.
It also suffers a little from the bland performance of the leading man, Stewart Granger, who is never as chilling, or duplicitous, or charming as he needs at various stages to be.
Jean Simmons, on the other hand, is fabulous, playing both coy and cunning equally well—sometimes at the same time. The situation is seemingly simple: Granger's character is a rich widower and Simmons, playing his housekeeper, has some serious dirt about him. What might seem like a blackmail situation gets sticky fast, however, and there are emotional twists and some more desperation before it all levels out.
I hate to paint a whole industry with one color, but this strikes me as a typically British way of handling a juicy, suspenseful dilemma. It's restrained and refined, and it tries for nuance rather than splash. Imagine, five years earlier, an American film noir version of this (there are several, including the 1946 Deception which might have parallels). Some might prefer the dramatic style here, which practically owes something to earlier Paramount productions—25 years earlier, that is. For me it made me feel as polite watching as the whole enterprise must have seemed to the participants.
It's good, it's totally worth watching, but it's also revealing about style and intent in the industry in this fuzzy period between classic Hollywood and the 1960s.
Some kind of cross between a Bronte drama (like Jane Eyre) and a British crime film. And it falls a little flat for that very reason, being neither one very well.
It also suffers a little from the bland performance of the leading man, Stewart Granger, who is never as chilling, or duplicitous, or charming as he needs at various stages to be.
Jean Simmons, on the other hand, is fabulous, playing both coy and cunning equally well—sometimes at the same time. The situation is seemingly simple: Granger's character is a rich widower and Simmons, playing his housekeeper, has some serious dirt about him. What might seem like a blackmail situation gets sticky fast, however, and there are emotional twists and some more desperation before it all levels out.
I hate to paint a whole industry with one color, but this strikes me as a typically British way of handling a juicy, suspenseful dilemma. It's restrained and refined, and it tries for nuance rather than splash. Imagine, five years earlier, an American film noir version of this (there are several, including the 1946 Deception which might have parallels). Some might prefer the dramatic style here, which practically owes something to earlier Paramount productions—25 years earlier, that is. For me it made me feel as polite watching as the whole enterprise must have seemed to the participants.
It's good, it's totally worth watching, but it's also revealing about style and intent in the industry in this fuzzy period between classic Hollywood and the 1960s.