The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946)

Director:

Lewis Milestone

Writers:

Robert Rossen (screenplay)
John Patrick (story)

Release Date:

24 July 1946 (USA)

Genre:

Drama | Film-Noir

Tagline:

Fate drew them together... and only murder could part them!

Plot:

A ruthless, domineering woman is married to an alcoholic D.A., a childhood companion and the only living witness to her murder of her rich aunt seventeen years earlier.

Plot Keywords:

Aunt | District Attorney | Heiress | Secret | Wealthy

Awards:

Nominated for Oscar.

Cast

  (Complete credited cast)

Barbara Stanwyck	...	Martha Ivers
Van Heflin	...	Sam Masterson
Lizabeth Scott	...	Antonia 'Toni' Marachek
Kirk Douglas	...	Walter O'Neil
Judith Anderson	...	Mrs. Ivers
Roman Bohnen	...	Mr. O'Neil
Darryl Hickman	...	Sam as a Boy
Janis Wilson	...	Martha as a Girl
Ann Doran	...	Bobbi St. John
Frank Orth	...	Hotel Clerk
James Flavin	...	Detective #1
Mickey Kuhn	...	Walter as a Boy
Charles D. Brown	...	McCarthy - Private Detective

Also Known As:

Love Lies Bleeding (USA) (working title)
Meaningful Glances (USA) (working title)

Runtime:

116 min

Country:

USA

Language:

English

Color:

Black and White

Aspect Ratio:

1.37 : 1

Sound Mix:

Mono (Western Electric Recording)

Certification:

Canada:PG (Ontario) | Australia:PG | Finland:K-16 | USA:Unrated

Company:

Hal Wallis Productions

Trivia:

Kirk Douglas's debut.

Goofs:

Continuity: During the scene when Martha and Sam are standing by the campfire, the amount of smoke varies drastically from angle to angle.

Quotes:

Sam Masterson: I don't like anybody pushing me around. I don't like anybody pushing you around. I don't like anybody getting pushed around.

Movie Connections:

Featured in ... A Father... A Son... Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2005) (TV)

Soundtrack:

Strange Love

Whisper her name: Stanwyck as twisted steeltown autocrat

Lewis Milestone's The Strange Love of Martha Ivers presents a, well, strange case. Much if not most of it fits comfortably into the noir cycle that was just gathering its head of steam. But its look, save some recurrent bus-station shots, suggests lavish and well-lit prestige productions (as does its length), and in its deep-rooted narrative it harks back to sprawling, brooding melodramas such as Kings Row.

That narrative is broken-backed as well, with two disjointed time frames. The movie opens in 1928 in sooty Iverstown, a steel city almost certainly somewhere in Pennsylvania. There we meet, as teenagers, three of the story's principals: Unruly Martha, making yet another attempt to run away from her wealthy, rigid aunt (Judith Anderson); her street-urchin buddy Sammy; and prissy school-teacher's son Walter. On the night Anderson is bludgeoned to death (to the tune of lightning, thunder and crashing rains), Sammy waits for Martha to join him; when she doesn't, he signs up with the circus and blows town.

Fast-forward to 1946, when decorated veteran Sammy (Van Heflin), headed west, cracks up his car and finds himself once more in Iverstown. He meets up with the fourth main character, Lizabeth Scott, who not unlike himself has been knocked about (she's a jailbird). When the police lock her up for violating parole, he pays a visit to his old friend Walter (Kirk Douglas, in his debut), now the district attorney, to secure her release.

Douglas, who rarely draws a sober breath, holds the office thanks to the ambition and power of his wife Martha (Barbara Stanwyck). (The original publicity campaign cautioned `Whisper her name!') When she shows up unexpectedly and warmly greets Heflin, all Douglas' insecurities and jealousies erupt; not only does he suspect that Heflin has always been his wife's first love but he fears that Heflin, privy to the long-buried secret of the aunt's death, can undo his marriage, his success, and the industrial empire Stanwyck has built. He takes heavy-handed measures to defend himself, blackmailing Scott into framing Heflin. But hasn't reckoned with the resourcefulness of his adversary – or with the wilfulness of his wife.

But the story is really plotted along romantic coordinates whose intersections are punctuated by Miklos Rozsa's throbbing score. Douglas loves Stanwyck, who really loves Heflin, while Scott loves Heflin, who loves her back but still has unfinished business with Stanwyck (no wonder Douglas drinks – nobody loves him). And in the rondelay of turnabouts and betrayals (or seeming betrayals), The Strange Love of Martha Ivers slips perilously close to soap opera. Its stately pace and prosperous look give it a dated, ponderous feel, quite unlike the rough sleekness of film noir, though there's an unmistakable echo of Double Indemnity – Stanwyck's performance as Martha Ivers reworks hers as Phyllis Dietrichson, right down to the concluding love-death tableau.

But, while occasionally cumbersome, The Strange Love of Martha Ivers stands on its own as an overwrought, obsessive drama, with a very topical acknowledgment of the insulation that money and power can buy, and of the moral and social corruption that inflexibly comes as part of the package. It's a strange movie, all right, but a haunting one as well.