Otto Preminger’s Laura is a gripping romantic mystery, especially when Clifton Webb makes admiration sound threatening. Its detective plotting sometimes feels overarranged, but the performances and David Raksin’s score warrant a warm recommendation.
Otto Preminger’s Laura is a gripping mystery about men who think admiring a woman gives them some claim over her. Their certainty is unsettling, especially because they can make it sound so civilised. The director allows us to enjoy their company long enough for their possessiveness to become uncomfortable. We recommend the film warmly, with a reservation about detective plotting that sometimes asks us to accept more than the characters have earned.
Clifton Webb, as Waldo Lydecker, is particularly good at making cruelty sound like a social accomplishment. He makes a dismissive remark seem carefully prepared, then makes the care itself funny: this man takes considerable trouble to be unpleasant. We laughed at his contempt, then felt uncomfortable with how readily his cultivated manner made it acceptable. The performance lets the possessiveness show without interrupting the pleasure of watching someone be so exact in his disapproval.
Dana Andrews gives Det. Lt. Mark McPherson a useful solidity beside that fussiness. His restraint makes small changes in his attention worth following, and he never seems anxious to compete for our approval. Gene Tierney, as Laura Hunt, has the more difficult assignment, since the film keeps inviting us to consider her through somebody else’s admiration. Her composure gives us something to study beyond the beauty; we become interested in how much of what others say about her we should accept.
Joseph LaShelle’s photography of Gene Tierney makes the men’s fascination easy to understand. The care given to her face encourages us to keep looking, even as the story makes that attention troubling. David Raksin’s score deepens the romantic feeling, giving their fascination a warmth that their behaviour cannot always supply. The music is persuasive enough to make us sympathetic to feelings we have good reason to distrust, and that complication is essential to the film’s appeal.
Louis R. Loeffler’s editing keeps the changing impressions of these people clear, and the 88-minute running time feels well judged. Vincent Price gives Shelby Carpenter an accommodating charm that makes him enjoyable company without making him reassuring. Judith Anderson’s Ann Treadwell brings an unsentimental directness that prevents all this longing from becoming solemn. The director has a good sense of how long to leave us with each performer, and when another personality will freshen the scene without making the previous encounter feel unfinished.
The screenplay, credited to Samuel Hoffenstein, Elizabeth Reinhardt, Jay Dratler and Ring Lardner Jr., is less convincing when it starts putting everything in order. We can feel the effort of arranging the explanation, and some of the dialogue loses its bite when it has information to deliver. That matters in a mystery, even one whose characters remain so watchable. These people have been allowed enough vanity and inconsistency to make the tidying-up feel a little too convenient.
As a noir, Laura finds plenty to trouble us in people who believe they have excellent taste. The vanity, jealousy and pleasure in being preferred are familiar enough, and the director trusts the actors to make them troublesome. Even when the mystery feels contrived, we are still interested in who will be allowed to speak for whom. Watch it for Clifton Webb, and allow David Raksin’s music to make the company seem more inviting than it deserves.
