By coincidence this is the second movie written by Mank's big brother Herman that I've watched in two days - courtesy of my good friend in France - and it's light years ahead of the first, Christmas Holiday and in yet another coincidence both movies were adapted by Mank from novels by heavy hitters, respectively Somerset Maugham and Vicki Baum. For this entry someone should coin a new term; slightly bizarre noir, which is what it is. At first glance we seem to be verging on Mildred Pierce territory inasmuch as an argument is followed by a gunshot and a confession which has to be as phony as a nine-dollar bill. On paper this is a film of about as mismatched talents as you could get, on paper at least. Who would ever associate Maureen O'Hara with Nicholas Ray? or cast her as Myrna Loy to Melvyn Douglas' William Powell? And, if it comes to that, who could envisage Jay C. Flippen and Victor Jory in the same film let alone a film that already has O'Hara and Douglas aboard, to say nothing of Gloria Graham who plays Estrellita as if she'd been told to effect a cross between Gracie Allen and Marilyn Monoro - although Monroe had yet to establish her persona in 1949 despite three or four small roles. Mank's script is pithy and droll, full of collectables such as 'What are you doing for dinner?' 'Eating', and, 'I just won another bet, they don't say "Where Am I?"'. If you believe Melvyn Douglas as a piano player-song-plugger you'll believe anything, even that Gloria Graham can carry a tune in a Louis Vuitton purse (she was dubbed, natch) but this time around it's fairly easy to suspend disbelief (since when, for example, have cops wives been allowed to sit in on investigations) and along the way we get to hear the elusive verse to 'Paradise' so really what more do you want.
Review of A Woman's Secret
