When Strangers Marry

I wouldn't have believed that this film could run barely over an hour in length; in the course of its 67 minutes, it crams in more plot twists, emotional punch and sheer tension than recent blockbusters can manage in 200 or more, with never a wasted moment... but no lack, either, of aching silences and endless hours at night. As the innocent, idealistic young wife adrift in a city and world utterly alien to her, Kim Hunter carries the whole film with a performance of breathtaking conviction. She is scarcely off-screen from start to finish, as the character grows and matures both in confidence and desperation, and our assumptions about the outcome shift off-balance from one moment to the next. 'When Strangers Marry' is without a doubt her film. It's also an emotional roller-coaster, a gripping piece of noir -- and, unbelievably, a no-budget miracle shot in just seven days.

Robert Mitchum, in an early role, is a little wooden but crucially effective in the part of the former suitor who provides a steady shoulder for his one-time fiancée to lean on, and Dean Jagger is suitably elusive as the longed-for husband who is all but a stranger, but it is Hunter who really stands out here. I wasn't expecting much from this film but was absolutely swept away by it: an example above all of how to do a Hitchcock on Poverty Row.

Some important names were getting good exposure for their talents in When Strangers Marry. In front of the camera were Kim Hunter and Robert Mitchum. And behind are director William Castle later famous for horror pictures and Dimitri Tiomkin whose music scores were usually in films with far bigger budgets and vistas than When Strangers Marry.

Young Kim Hunter arrives in New York where she's on impulse married salesman Dean Jagger on short acquaintance. He's been delayed in Philadelphia and tells her to go to his flat and set up housekeeping. A helpful friend in Robert Mitchum proves even more helpful when Jagger is delayed for quite some time.

Good reason he has been delayed. The opening shows the homicide of a drunk and flannel mouth Dick Elliott who was bragging about the $10,000.00 he had even dropping large bills on the barroom floor. The next thing we see is the hotel maid finding the body and the cops Philly have a lead the suspect has gone to New York.

Where Neil Hamilton of the NYPD takes over and Jagger looks good for it to a disbelieving Hunter.

Not the greatest of noir films. But When Strangers Marry gave Robert Mitchum his first taste of a genre where at RKO he would get some really great roles and become a mega-star. Hunter and Jagger do well in their parts.

For a look at some movie legends developing I would give When Strangers Marry a viewing.

Castle's third feature is an interesting case of talents in the bud. Previously he had been responsible for a bright Boston Blackie series entry with Chester Morris, and the less successful Klondike Kate (1943) with Tom Neal. When Strangers Marry (also known by the less accurate title of Betrayed) shows the director's increasing confidence as he ventures into the territory of the new film noir genre. He was also lucky in securing the services of a good cast: Kim Hunter, Dean Jagger and, in his first co-starring role, a young Robert Mitchum. One of the greatest noir stars, Mitchum is slimmer and perhaps more tentative here than he would be in later films, but still has enough presence and skill to make an impact, especially in the sweaty closing scenes. Already an experienced hand, Dimitri Tiomkin provided the music, and the result was an above average production from Monogram.

Having said that, there's a certain peremptoriness to the film, making it not entirely satisfactory. The noir style, which thrived on inexpensive sets and the economic use of shadow, cheap location shooting and the like, is evoked by Castle rather than expressed in any thorough fashion. Castle's next film The Whistler (1944), on yet another miniscule budget, was much more effective in evoking a continuous mood of paranoia and doom from the haunted Richard Dix. Some successful scenes apart, (Millie's first night in the hotel, her Lewtonish night walk, her innocent suspicions in Paul's apartment), the present film rather clumsily bolts noir elements on to a standard suspense plot - one vaguely reminiscent of Hitchcock's Suspicion of three years before - rather than to let them arise naturally from situation and character. An example is Millie's night of disturbed rest in the hotel. Husbandless in her neon sign-lit room, drowned in shadows and fear, she is distracted by the repeated blaring of nearby dancehall before taking a fraught phone call from Fred (Mitchum). This scene has no real plot purpose except to show her loneliness and distress, and the expressionist images seem over emphatic. On its own it is startling and dramatic, but nothing more, a pool of hard noir in a more naturalistic film. Even less convincingly, as if it had never happened Millie then makes no move to change her room later the next day, and the music never occurs again (it would have made an excellent punctuation for any later confrontation with Fred, for instance). As an actress, Kim Hunter makes an effective noir victim, even if her trusting fragility needs a willing suspension of disbelief. Powell and Pressburger obviously recognised such sensitivity even in a poverty row product like this, for they shortly cast her in such films as A Canterbury Tale, of the same year, and then in A Matter of Life and Death (1946).

A more serious plot flaw resides in the character of her husband Paul (Jagger). His personality and motives are shrouded in mystery throughout the film and, sadly, are not much clearer by the end. For a while this enigmatic man provides the narrative with a lot of useful suspense. The lack of resolution to his drama, while supplying the necessary twist as the truth is revealed, leaves the viewer with just too many questions to be comfortable. One misses even the rudimentary psycho-analysis which appeared in some noirs from this time, supposedly explaining the aberrant personality. Either elements of helpful exposition were jettisoned in the course of filming on a tight budget, or the writers (who included the excellent Philip Jordan, of Dillinger, Detective Story, Big Combo fame) thought they could get away with such a lacuna. The result is to reduce a happy ending to one where a married couple must still live on unresolved tensions, their determined contentment notwithstanding.

For those interested in trivia there are some private jokes in the film. A 'Mr King' is paged at the hotel (the film was produced by the King brothers). More amusingly, Millie hands over a deliberately misleading picture to the investigating detectives, saying 'This is the man you want'. It is director Castle. Such gallows humour, and self-publicity, would manifest itself in a series of gimmick films for which he is better known, starting in the 50's...

William Castle's first noteworthy effort (incidentally, the copy I acquired bore a new title - BETRAYED!) was made at Poverty Row studio Monogram within a genre he would intermittently return to until the genial director saw he could particularly make a mint with Horror. It is a noir with a distinct Hitchcock feel: in fact, the plot bears obvious nods to both SUSPICION (1941) and SHADOW OF A DOUBT (1943), a murder attempt is borrowed wholesale from FOREIGN CORRSPONDENT (1940), and there is even Castle's own 'appearance' (which is actually treated as a recurring in-joke here!).

It was an equally important film for Robert Mitchum, not only because it showed that his star was definitely rising but in view of the fact that the ultimate revelation as to his character's true nature would be reworked in some of his later (and most impressive) work. Curiously enough, I was under the impression that he would be the suspected murderer husband – but the way things played out, I must congratulate the scriptwriters (including Philip Yordan) on their ingenuity. Leading lady Kim Hunter (ideally cast as the fresh-faced bride) had just come off the Val Lewton production THE SEVENTH VICTIM (1943), while Dean Jagger has an atypical lead role (it is even more unusual to see him sporting a full head of hair!) – their awkwardness is never more effectively delineated than when they find themselves stranded inside a Harlem nightclub (showcasing an over-enthusiastic black dancer). Also on hand is Neil Hamilton (later Commissioner Gordon in the campy but popular BATMAN TV series of the 1960s) already in his element as a Police Inspector; incidentally, his ambivalent relationship with Mitchum throughout pays off in droves during the frenzied climax.

Despite the evident economy of means, the film still displays considerable style along the way (atmospheric chiaroscuro lighting, effective low-angle shooting, an imaginative hallucination sequence, etc.); the role-reversal in the opening and closing scenes is a nice touch, too. For the record, I own several more of Castle's (by all accounts, lesser) noirs but I probably will not have time to fit any of them in my current schedule...

Like My Name is Julia Ross, another quick-and-dirty damsel-in-distress movie, When Strangers Marry helped lay down the blueprints for what would come to be called film noir. Kim Hunter has just wed a patron (Dean Jagger) of the restaurant where she waited tables without knowing much about him; off on a vague business trip, he asks her to meet him at a New York hotel. His evasive actions are enough to raise suspicions even in a naive Ohio gal like her -- he makes her wander the streets of wartime Greenwich Village at night (as she did a year earlier in Val Lewton's The Seventh Victim). An old man-pal (the very young Robert Mitchum) happens to turn up to keep an eye on her strange marriage in the big bad city. But there are recurring links to the silk-stocking murder of a businessman in Philadelpia a few days before.... William Castle, best known as a 1950s schlockmeister (13 Ghosts, et al.) shows himself to be a keen apprentice here: There's a scene involving a glass-paned hotel mail chute that is almost Hitchcockian.