The Lady From Shanghai (1948)

This will probably my last “major” noir for a while, if not ever as I prefer to look at the lesser known noirs rather than the big ones, so don’t worry my fellow writers, you will have the chance to cover the other “big ones.” I just feel this one really is in need to get its due, I think we forget while looking at the obscurities that even some of the more well known ones are in dire need of being revisited and reevaluated.
(possible spoilers)

I was surprised to see “Lady From Shanghai” came 3rd place for best picture in our 1948 NOTY awards, but then again, it’s perfectly understandable. This film, while always regarded as a classic (in addition to being one of the more well known noirs), is rarely mentioned alongside the greats such as “Out of the Past” or “Double Indemnity,” but like I said, it’s understandable. This film is what I would definitely call a mess of a masterpiece: it’s hacked up (with more holes than that of Swiss cheese), featuring a dreadful score plus obviously added/reshot scenes in result of a haphazard attempt to compensate for Rita Hayworth’s ugly character. But as it turns out, such flaws only add to the film’s mythic status. For most movies such damage to a film would make them only jumbled, horrific drek; but here, thanks to Orson Welles’s beautiful imagery, it has become a cryptic riddle, only hints, pieces of a film that is lost to history.

What we are left with is something that still captures the brilliance of that film, despite its obstacles. In 90 minutes the epic scope of that film can still, in the least, be felt. We travel from New York City down the coast of Mexico to Acapulco to San Francisco, filled with character revelations and plot twists abound. It is full of thought provoking philosophies of human nature without the feeling of being pretentious (something that I’m sure Orson Welles could have faulted in doing due to his obvious ego). It’s characters are all unique and three dimensional, despite two being of typical noir archetypes (the fall guy and the femme fatale). Most of all, nearly every frame is a true work of art, photographed beautifully (thanks to Orson and Charles Lawton on cinematography).


The Lady From Shanghai presents the noir world as something of complete chaos, in which absolutely no one is capable of controlling their environment, thus making each’s battle against their fateful demises useless. The relationship between Michael O’Hara (Orson Welles) and George Grisby (Glenn Anders) is the embodiment of this. Michael has absolutely no control over Grisby’s “get-rich quick” scheme let alone can understand Grisby’s psychotic nature (Welles is brilliant at capturing O’Hara’s confusion, never does he seem to know what is going on, hell we don’t either). Outside of this, the court system is most certainly not a system at all (the judge’s stupidity, the jury’s spontaneous sneezes and laughter, the screaming contest between Arthur Bannister and the District Attorney, all reaffirm that even “justice,” and the law in general, is a sham. Many films noir look only into the corruption of several human beings, but here, the whole world is looked at most cynically.

Rita Hayworth is most definitely an actress who gets little to no credit for her strong performances. Her quintessential sex goddess role, Gilda, required a wide range of emotions in addition to mixing strength with vulnerability, and though Rita lived up to the requirement (perhaps surpassing it), her performance is only remembered as being “sexy” (which it is very, very, much). Post-Gilda she always delivered solid performances when given at least moderate material, but “The Lady From Shanghai” definitely ranks as one of the best of those. Here, she presents to us a femme fatale that is different from all the rest. Her cold, impassive, voice and behavior, rather than suggesting duplicity, shows us a woman who has been so psychologically abused by her husband she has lost her own humanity in the process. The murder plot and seduction of Michael O’Hara is not out of greed and lust for power (as most femme fatales aim for) but rather the need for both Bannister’s retribution and her own compensation, completely devoid of conscience for manipulating and destroying two men in the process. It is not until her last moments does she realize what she has become, a figure of evil just as monstrous as her sadistic calculating husband (shortly before in the hall of mirrors we see her in her true form, both photographed and acting just as grotesquely as George Grisby). Whether it be Orson’s intention or not, her character eerily reflects her real life story: Rita’s marriages (and being the property of Harry Cohn) were arranged rather than out of real love, abused (both physically and psychologically), and in the process had become, as many had described her (including Orson, perhaps the most loving of her husbands next to Prince Aly Kahn, if that says much), one of the saddest people they had ever met. Even the breaking down of her persona that always haunted her (her legendary “Men go to bed with Gilda and wake up with me) is found here, (a personal favorite scene, though a minor one) in which she on the yacht comes on to Michael, like a sexually predatory Gilda (presumably due to her lack of sexual contact as her husband is paraplegic), he hits her, and in a split second she reveals the fragile, frightened being inside of her.


Orson Welles made a fine decision to have Everett Sloane cast, clearly a radio actor. His stylized speaking pattern with lack of movement from the body heightens the character’s inhumanity and overall calculating nature. Glenn Anders is brilliant in his role, his scenes are disturbingly humorous and it works to terrific effect. The film’s star Orson Welles, despite a horrible accent, is natural and brings to the film the only true human being present (albeit a very, very weak one). He is one of the quintessential noir heroes, even more of a chump than Jeff Markham (hell he makes Markham look like Sam Spade). And Ted DeCorsia is ALWAYS welcome. I enjoyed many of the bit players too, such as the anti-stereotype black maid Bessie (Evelyn Ellis), who is more of a guardian to Hayworth rather than a subservient domestic, Erskine Sanford as the disgustingly dumbfounded judge, or the juror who gives the great line (and her only one at that), “That woman’s too nice looking to have stolen that jewelry”.

Whether you like the film or not, you must admit the final scenes are truly brilliant. Not only the technically impossible (how he did it is beyond me) Hall of Mirrors scene, but also the suspenseful Chinese theater segment, the surreal/nightmarish funhouse, and the final scene between Elsa and Michael, in which he performs one of the most coldest (and unpunished) actions during the Hays code years. And the films immortal final line “Maybe I'll live so long that I'll forget her. Maybe I'll die trying.”

Had this film been left in it’s original form, I’m certain it would be Orson’s masterpiece (hopefully someday, somehow, the lost footage will pop up, or at least the score will be replaced with the intended one). Whereas Citizen Kane manages to be visually beautiful yet still leaves one cold, The Lady From Shanghai possesses a soul (however a tragic, grotesque one). If a film can feel like an epic in only 90 minutes, imagine what the experience would have been like had it been 150. We are never given many answers (Just what did Bannister have on Elsa, how was Elsa connected to the Chinese mafia, etc), but the mystery still keeps this film alive.




Written by Markham