Road House

Road House (1948)

Road House is in some ways a straight up romance with noir stylizing. The setting is great, out in some isolated and spectacular club/bar of a type once known as a roadhouse (often out of town to avoid local laws about drinking and cavorting). The core is that the troubled and cocky Jefty, played by the inimitable Richard Widmark, wants the troubled Lily, played by a tough Ida Lupino. Widmark as the roadhouse owner is pure Widmark, so that even when he's charming he's scary, and when he's not so charming he becomes demonic. This repels Lupino, who though hard edged is decent deep down, and she falls for the nice guy, played by Cornel Wilde, who is a sweetheart with an inability to stand up for himself. This gets him, and everyone else, into trouble.

The steady, downward drone of this movie from a just barely tense introduction as Lily comes to town to be the new entertainment to a love conflict and a frame up is subtle and effective. Don't look for fireworks--it's all smoke until the very end. A full hour passes before you reach the movie's one major plot twist (the bizarre parole conditions announced in the courtroom), and then the gun has finally been cocked. Now all that we wonder about is how it will go off.

And Lupino. There is no one in Hollywood quite like her, one of the best women for making bitter arrogance smart and snappy. Her husky-voiced singing is far more provocative than awful, and perfect for this roadhouse in some unlikely mountain town fifteen miles from Canada. Not only is Lupino brilliant with her lines, she has brilliant lines to deliver, almost as though she invented them, they fit so well. The fourth main character, the "second woman" played by Celeste Holm (the beguiling voice-over in Letter to Three Wives), seems to have a smaller role, but she's ultimately the sensible and good gal, not as sexed up and headturning as Lupino's Lily, but steady and practical and a key to everyone's salvation in the end.

The camera-work starts out as pretty straight 1940s greatness (aided by an astonishing series of period sets), with Joseph LaShelle as cinematographer building up the drama through the last half hour to some searing, dramatic face shots. The final scenes in the woods presage the similar foggy ending to Gun Crazy, which has more of a cult following (and which has visual innovations this one doesn't), and these scenes are worth the ride by themselves. Director Jean Negulesco has only a few features of note to his credit, but Road House, along with How to Marry a Millionaire and Johnny Belinda, makes a great case for his ability.

It's easy to fault the film for some small things (Pete seems inexplicably powerless to fight the frameup) and even for larger ones (the romance that holds it together isn't all that convincing), but the moods and sets and lines are all great stuff. The plot has some gratuitous moments (including an exhibitionist Lupino) but taken another way they emphasize her difference from the others, her insouciance and her confidence. It's curious, and maybe defining, that the natural match between the troubled characters, the Widmark and Lupino leads, is rejected, but then Lily's shift to Pete ought to catch fire.

In a way, the film's theme, of a man being overwhelmed by his wanting and expecting a woman, is defined best in Lily's matter of fact line, "Doesn't it enter a man's head that a girl can do without him?" Not usually.

Lupino gives a premier league performance. Take her rendition of "One for My Baby, One More For The Road": it's an object lesson in how a conventionally beautiful voice is NOT required in order to triumph as a singer. Although she croaks the number rather than sings it, she acts it as if the character has felt every ounce of suffering in the lyric - and then some.

This is one of my favorite film-noirs. I could watch it every night and not get tired of it. What Ida Lupino was able to do with a cigarette, a few shrugs of her shoulder and a gravelly singing voice, well lets just say they there oughta be a law against it. The casting of this film could not have been better.Richard Widmark, Ida Lupino, Cornel Wilde and Celeste Holm are all at the top of their game here. And to top it all off, it has one of the greatest bar-room brawls of all time. If you've never seen it, you're wasting valuable time here. Shut off your computer, go down to your local video store and rent it immediately. You won't be disappointed. Or better yet, try to catch it on a big screen somewhere.

This is made with enough memorable pieces - the 'road house' in the small Midwest town, the torch singer fresh from Chicago who comes to upset the sleepy routine, the two men, owner and manager of the joint, who lust after her - that it would have been something to see regardless of who was in it.

Someone like Gene Tierney or Rita Hayworth would have been equal parts fierce and coquettish in navigating their private wants against the male desire that threatens to create a narrative that engulfs them. That would have been fine and the film worth watching.

But we got Ida Lupino instead, that whirlwind of softly indomitable spirit. I had heard enough about her in my various travels through film, always in context of trailblazing individualism, and have even seen her in a couple of films before. But for whatever reason, this was the first time I was so profoundly captivated by her talent that from now on, she's forever celebrated in my house.

Going by what she achieves here, she should be rightfully mentioned on par with Cagney, that other whirlwind of intelligent presence. It's an ability to float past obvious limits of a narrative, and from there inhabit a self who can freely enter the story, play and improvise on that edge, that makes her unerringly modern. In this case she gives us the soulful ingenue, the one required by the story, but at her choosing, and the next morning freely becomes someone who just wants to look around and explore.

Just look how her ability to shift what she inhabits in an easy and free manner makes the whole context of a scene shift. The scene with going up to the pond for a swim is written for her character to impress Wilde's as not just a stuck-up singer from Chicago. But the way she plays it turns it into she's there for a swim and shucks if he's impressed. Maybe she likes him, but she'll be fine either way.

She's so marvelous in the first half of this (which is largely devoted to her and her romance), you forget you're watching a film noir of the time. It's like watching an actor from 20 years later, a Nouvelle Vague woman. She manages to make the whole transcend and had me feeling what it would be like if more studio pictures of the time were allowed to simply follow along with contemporary life on the streets. We'd have to wait for Cassavetes to start that ball rolling and then onwards to Altman and the others. Ida would have made a dreamy collaborator in those years and would have flourished and shined all the more as both actor and filmmaker.

But this is still a film noir, which means succumbing to narrative controlled by selfish desire. In this case Richard Widmark is not happy that she chose his helping hand around the club; so he conspires to create a vengeful narrative that entraps all three, and no less his own self. The setting for this part is a remote cabin in the woods.

In a great scene the two lovers, looking glum now, sit across the table from each other overseen by Widmark at the head, as if the whole world has shifted to something other than real. Widmark, that early Jack Nicholson of film, deserves a standing ovation himself for all he achieved; not once has his usual mode of seething, petulant menace failed to enhance a film all the more.

The resolutions are predictable and really the last part of of the film is, but it's still decent noir. Taken as a whole, it's a rich primary text and wholly deserves the visit.

Richard Widmark, Ida Lupino, Cornel Wilde and Celeste Holm are all in the "Road House," a 1948 film noir directed by Jean Negulesco. Widmark, fresh from his career-making role of Tommy Udo, plays Jefty, who owns a road house. His friend from the service, Wilde, runs the place. Jefty is gone on Lily (Lupino) but can't get to first base and hires her as a singer. Unfortunately, she falls for Pete. Jefty frames Pete for robbery to keep him and Lily from leaving town to get married, and then arranges with the judge to have Pete paroled to him. To say he's up to something is an understatement.

The revelation here is Lupino as a sexy torch singer. She does her own singing here, husky, seductive, very stylized and smoking. She's wonderful. Widmark is vicious as only Widmark could be, and Wilde repeats his "Leave Her to Heaven" nice guy as victim role. Celeste Holm looks great and does her usual excellent job as a woman attracted to Pete who takes pity on him and Lily just the same.

My only criticism is that there is a scene where Lily turns on the radio to a classical station where a soprano is singing "Einsam im Truben Tagen." She tells Pete that she studied opera, and her father had great ambition for her. With that whiskey and cigarette soaked set of vocal cords - I doubt it.