The Lost Moment

The Lost Moment (1947)

A highly romanticized version of the dark and complex story by Henry James called the Aspern Papers. It's glorious in many ways, ultra moody and mysterious. It lacks some of the delirious gloss and superb acting of, say, "Rebecca" though the similarities are clear.

The leading actor, an American in Venice, is maybe the weakest link, because he comes off as more of a naive innocent than a slightly lost and duplicitous conniver, one who gets seduced by his own mission (a common James theme). But Robert Cummings has the advantage of letting the story and the scenes dominate. The leading woman, playing a complex role, is Susan Hayward, a better actor though the main side of her role is to be steely and lifeless, which she does very well. Agnes Moorehead plays the old woman, and you won't recognize her, she's so heavily made up.

It's 1947 and still the studio era, so the entire film was shot in Hollywood, but the sets are fabulous, and the photography and lighting makes the most of it. It's beautiful, above all.

But what about the story? A great and somewhat fantastic love story. Or is it so fantastic? It seems some of the time that there is something magical happening, a crossing of time zones. But our protagonist discovers the truth, and falls in love, and the problem gradually changes. The original goal, of discovering some key lover letters from fifty years earlier, seems secondary, though it rears its head (suddenly) at the climax.

Some people might find this film "old fashioned" or a little false, somehow, with the actors playing types rather than real people. I mean, they are convincing, and compelling for sure, but they only have the qualities needed for the plot. But other people will be able to buy into all this as style, which it is, and let it take over. It's a curious and beautiful enterprise, whatever its flaws.

This little film is bursting with atmosphere, brooding, wistful, corrupt, overflowing with decay, betrayal and regret. A studio better known for its westerns and horror movies is here responsible for a major gem of delicacy and suggestion.

What makes all this remarkable is that the screenplay is a classic example of Hollywood's idiotic dumbing-down of a major work of fiction, Henry James's novella "The Aspern Papers" (based in turn on the life of Lord Byron). To compare James's brief story with the film is so sad it's almost painful, yet the movie survives and succeeds through sensitive style and sturdy professionalism.

The studio sets are evocative of a time before Venice became an international theme park, and the director's experience in radio drama provides a more finely-judged soundtrack than was the norm.

If your nerve-endings are not already terminally blunted through today's cinematic overkill, this film will prove richly rewarding.

This turned up on tv and, having recently seen another James adaptation, The Innocents, I thought I'd take a look. This is quite a sweet little film, despite its sinister content and ghostly images of Venice. Cummings, Hayward and Moorehead are all excellent. "Venice" looks as good as the real thing, and the film has that watchable quality which sits with the very best of the 40s. One I'll certainly go back to.

The Lost Moment is directed by Martin Gabel and adapted by Leonardo Bercovici from the Henry James novel, The Aspern Papers. It stars Robert Cummings, Susan Hayward, Agnes Moorehead and Eduardo Ciannelli. Music is by Daniele Amfitheatrof and cinematography by Hal Mohr.

Lewis Venable (Cummings) is a publisher who travels to Venice in search of love letters written by poet Jeffrey Ashton. Insinuating himself into the home of the poets lover and recipient of the letters, Juliana Bordereau (Moorehead), Venable finds himself transfixed by the strangeness of the place and its inhabitants, one of which is Juliana's off kilter niece, Tina (Hayward).

A splendid slice of Gothicana done up in film noir fancy dress, The Lost Moment is hauntingly romantic and ethereal in its weirdness. It's very talky, so the impatient should be advised, but the visuals and the frequent influx of dreamy like sequences hold the attention right to the denouement. The narrative is devilish by intent, with shifting identities, sexual tensions, intrigue and hidden secrets the orders of the day.

Cummings is a little awkward and his scenes with Hayward (very good in a tricky role) lacks an urgent spark, while old hands Moorehead (as a centenarian with an outstanding makeup job) and Ciannelli leave favourable marks in the smaller roles. Mohr's (The Phantom of the Opera) photography is gorgeous and bathes the pic in atmosphere, and Amfitheatrof's musical compositions are powerful in their subtleties. As for Gabel? With this being his only foray into directing, it stands as a shame he didn't venture further into the directing sphere. 7/10

Very loosely based on "The Aspern Papers" by Henry James, it involves a publisher, Lewis Venable (Robert Cummings), who is obsessed with getting control of and publishing the love letters of poet Jeffrey Ashton, who disappeared in Venice decades ago. The love letters had allegedly been written to Juliana Bordereau, still living in Venice, now very elderly to the point that she cannot move from her chair and claims she never sleeps. Having written to Juliana, she claims that the letters do not exist, but Lewis is not satisfied. So he comes to the Bordereau household under a false name claiming to be a novelist who wants to write his next work in their home because of its atmosphere. The Bordereaus exact a steep price for the rent, but Lewis agrees to it. It seems like this would tip off the Bordereaus to possible ulterior motives, but I digress.

The house is largely dark and very uninviting, as is Juliana's niece, Tina (Susan Hayward), who runs the household with an iron fist and is too young to be an actual niece of Juliana's since Tina is only in her 20s. The rudeness and even latent anger of Tina, the weird piano music that plays at night from an unknown location, the haunting score, and even the fact that Tina, when signing the lease agreement with Lewis, signs for both herself and Juliana simultaneously, and does so with completely different handwriting, really stirred my interest. But then the explanations arrive and it is all very ordinary.

Still it is very atmospheric, and it was a new experience to see Joan Loring, often playing cocky cockneys, give a performance as a housekeeper in perpetual terror of Tina.