One of the character types commonly seen in film noir is the everyman – the law-abiding Joe Average whose life is turned upside down by a sultry femme fatale. He’s the guy that you find yourself screaming at from the comfort of your sofa, advising him to head for the hills, or at the very least, stop ignoring red flags and exercise some common sense. In other words, he’s a dude who needs to get a clue.
Today’s Noirvember post centers on one of these Joes: Christopher Cross (Edward G. Robinson) from Fritz Lang’s Scarlet Street (1945). In this grim tale, amateur artist Cross comes to the rescue of a woman – Katherine “Kitty” March (Joan Bennett) – who is being attacked in the street. The very married Chris winds up falling for Kitty who, with guidance from her ne’er-do boyfriend, not only convinces Chris to set her up in a posh apartment, but also takes credit for his artwork when it becomes an unexpected success. It’s a doom-filled story where no one wins and everyone loses. And it all could have been avoided if, at any point, Chris had stopped being such a sap.
Here’s where he went wrong . . .
When Chris first encounters Kitty, she’s being pummeled by her boyfriend, Johnny Prince (Dan Duryea). Chris bravely attacks Johnny with his trusty umbrella, knocking him out cold, then dashes away to fetch a policeman. When the officer arrives on the scene, Johnny is gone and Kitty purposely sends the officer in the wrong direction. Chris plans to wait for his return, but Kitty insists that they flee. “We’ll have to go down to the station house and make a complaint. And every time they make an arrest, they send a detective to your house – for weeks!” she explains. “Oh, it’s a nuisance.” Instead, Kitty employs a bit of misdirection by quickly asking Chris to escort her home and he consents. Of course, Chris couldn’t have known that Kitty knew her attacker and was covering for him, but his innate sense of right and wrong should have advised him to stay put. And his natural curiosity should have had him questioning why Kitty was so disinterested in seeking justice against the man who beat her in the street. Red Flag #1.
After Chris walks Kitty home, he buys her a cocktail from the bar located on the lower level of her apartment building. When he asks her what she does for a living, she coyly invites him to guess – and he suggests that she’s an actress. Right the first time! And later, in response to Chris’s inquiry about the play in which she’s appearing. Kitty responds, “It closed tonight.” Chris tries again: “Which one?” And Kitty answers, “The one I was in,” quickly adding, “What time is it? . . . It’s time for Kitty to be in bed.” Had Chris been paying attention, he might have thought twice about his uncanny ability to correctly guess Kitty’s occupation and, on top of that, he would have realized that she never satisfactorily answered his question about her play. Red Flag #2.
During a lunch outing, the conversation abruptly switches from Chris waxing poetic about his painting process to Kitty prettily wiping away tears and sharing that she can’t pay her rent. But before you can say “Bob’s your uncle,” Kitty comes up with the bright idea for Chris to rent a studio apartment for her, a place where he can also come and paint. This proposition prompts Chris to confess that he’s a married man, and Kitty makes the appropriate noises about “not being [that} kind of girl.” Seconds later, though, she goes on to say that she should be angry, but she’s not – and then adds: “I’m going to let you help me.” By utilizing just a smidge of observational skills, Chris might well have recognized the insincerity of Kitty’s tears. More importantly, he could have realized how quickly Kitty moved from crying about her financials to proposing that Chris rent her an apartment, and recognized the thin line between Kitty’s righteous reaction about Chris’s married status and her oh-so-generous decision to let him assist her. Red Flag #3.
If only Chris had spotted even one of these red flags, he might not have taken that stroll down the path which led to his eventual ruin. If he’d only been able to look past Kitty’s inviting smile, and curvaceous body, and sensuous, purring voice, and really open his eyes, how different his life (and Kitty’s, and Johnny’s) might have been.
If only he’d gotten a clue . . .
Join me tomorrow for Day 15 (half over already!) of Noirvember.
