The magic of marketing – hang a label on a movie, point to the genre pedigree of the headline stars, and the director for that matter, and and there we have a film noir. Or actually we don’t, we have a film sold as such, at least it was back when Fox Film Noir was an ongoing line in the heyday of DVD releasing. Daisy Kenyon (1947) is a very well made and enjoyable post-war romantic melodrama but regardless of what it says on the tin, it’s certainly not a film noir. OK, having got that out of the way, I do want to take a look at a movie which sees three top stars all doing excellent work with one of Hollywood’s finest directors and getting plenty of mileage out of that frank openness about human relationships and bloomed in the years following WWII.
There is something attractive about frankness, especially with regard to those relationships that might be seen as falling below contemporary standards of propriety. Otto Preminger was always good at bringing such material to the screen and there’s a refreshing lack of judgement on display as we follow the complicated and meandering love lives of the three principals. At the center of it all is Daisy Kenyon (Joan Crawford), an unwed artist who has been carrying on an affair with a married hotshot lawyer, Dan O’Mara (Dana Andrews). Right from the first scene it’s apparent that this is unsatisfactory, from Daisy’s perspective anyway. She’s not stricken by guilt or remorse or any of the other trite reactions typically forced upon characters in this position. No, she’s just tired of taking second place whenever some important business or social engagement arises, and of course time is not in the habit of waiting around for anyone. With this in mind, she has one of her periodic spats with O’Mara and sets about preparing for a date with a new romantic prospect. Peter Lapham (Henry Fonda) is a soldier and one time boat designer. In one of those delightfully quirky scenes that punctuate the movie, both her suitors run into each other in the doorway and wind up using the same cab to shuttle back and forth, just not together. The romantic rivalry between the two men hasn’t grown any teeth at this stage, that will come later but there is a quality to it from the off that I can only describe as screwball drama. If O’Mara is not the ideal pick for Daisy given his marital commitments, Lapham has other issues. it’s not explicitly stated but he’s clearly affected by PTSD, as well as a degree of guilt/remorse for the death of his wife. I don’t want to go into too many details here, suffice to say the story devolves into a kind of contest for Daisy’s heart with the well-being and contentment of O’Mara’s children as a form of collateral up for negotiation. Maybe the outcome isn’t entirely surprising but the road that takes us there is pitted with plenty of drama, a sprinkling of black humor and a liberal dose of good old-fashioned empathy.
Preminger blends this all expertly, getting first class performances from his three leads. Henry Fonda was rebuilding his Hollywood career after wartime service in the navy. He would make My Darling Clementine and The Fugitive for Ford and then Fort Apache, with this movie and The Long Night giving him the chance to work with other directors in between. He brings something slightly offbeat to his role, an attractive quality which while not quite offering the lush oddness to be found in William Dieterle’s wonderful Portrait of Jennie and Love Letters is satisfyingly quirky and somehow authentic. Andrews is more grounded, less ethereal in his part. He’s driven by a desire that feels vaguely juvenile in its approach – as Crawford tells him late on, he’s as much spurred on by a need to escape responsibility as any need to achieve stability. Still, that unrest that Andrews was so adept at harnessing is always bubbling just below the surface. Crawford was riding high after her success in Mildred Pierce and gives a performance that is confident and credible. The fact is all three play off each other in a way that engages rather than overwhelms the viewer. Add in Leon Shamroy’s evocative camerawork and a characteristically classy score from David Raksin and the result is a polished and meaningful piece of filmmaking.
As I said at the start, Daisy Kenyon is not a film noir and I’m not sure how it came to be marketed as such. Perhaps it’s the combination of the reputations of the stars and director alongside some shadowy cinematography. The old Fox DVD sported a middling transfer, with some very blurry sections. I can’t say for sure whether or not this was intentional yet I doubt it somehow. Even though I understand the later Kino Blu-ray exhibits the same, I suspect print damage of some kind is more likely at the back of it. However, none of that should spoil one’s enjoyment of the movie. The DVD (and I think the Blu-ray too) has some worthwhile supplements with short features on the making of the movie and on Preminger’s career. Among the contributors is the always welcome and interesting Foster Hirsch – revisiting this movie and listening to his comments has reminded me that I need to pick up a copy of his book on Preminger. I think anyone who hasn’t seen this film will find it a rewarding watch. Just don’t go in expecting to see a film noir.