Your humble reviewer has always had a certain weakness for complex, anti-phatic, ''difficult'' human beings. For all the troubled, eternally discontent, kooky, eccentric, screwed up, outrageous - and yet so damn intriguing, gifted, charming, seductive, fascinating people.
So, it's really no big wonder that Gloria Grahame happens to be a favourite of hers!
Gloria is the sole reason why she sits and watches that elephantine circus (both words in every possible meaning...) film of De 
Mille's, whenever it's on. Why she's willing to spend 40 minutes of her life watching some old (and not that intriguing!) TV series -provided that Gloria happens to guest star in it. Or why she even considers watching a film like 'Mama's Dirty Girls' for the second (alright, the third!) time.
Very few Hollywood actresses, indeed, had Gloria's striking looks, her natural acting style, on-screen magnetism and sparkling personality (a unique blend of sensuality, straightforwardness and ingeniousness). Nevertheless, she never managed to reach top-stardom. The explanation for this probably lies in that ''ultra-sultry'', ''man-eating'' image of hers, which resulted in her being typecast as all kinds -and variations- of ''trampy'' females: the unfaithful wife, the bar-girl, the nightclub singer, the gangster's floozy, the conspiring ''other woman''... and the truth is she was damn good at them all! But then again, her eerie, squeaky, child-like voice and that distinctive cute lisp of hers, gave her ''sultriness'' a funny aura and a touch of naturalism - an edge to the clichéd ''look'' and ''attitude'' a ''femme fatale'' was expected to have.
Gloria however, always longed for a great part which would enable her to escape from that ''sexy, ever-available siren'' cinematic image she felt she was entrapped in. To her great disappointment, she lost the roles in films such as: 'Born Yesterday', 'A Place In The Sun', 'All About Eve' and 'From Here To Eternity' (respectively, to Judy Holliday, Shelley Winters, Anne Baxter and Donna Reed), the first three due to Howard Hughes's denial to let her play for another studio, outside RKO. Furthermore, the great comical part she constantly sought for (in real life she was known to have a great sense of humour) always seemed to elude her, basically because of her established image - perpetually heightened by ''extra-spicy'' aspects of her personal life. To studio-heads' minds, the average viewer wouldn't be interested in or willing to accept her as the ''next door girl'' or the ''all American woman'' and therefore not as a comedienne, either.
She was just too anti-phatic, too strange, too uncontrollable to be one of America's ''favourite leading ladies'' - or even a ''sex-goddess'' of the screen! Gloria was full of contradictions: she wanted desperately to be tried in ''non-sluttish'' roles but she also had an unbelievable obsession with preserving and intensifying her sultry looks (she had numerous plastic surgeries to her lips and also to her chin and nose), going into such extremes that sabotaged her much-sought respectability as an artist (the lip surgeries left her with a permanent partial paralysis in the face muscles, her face 15-20 years after her first on-screen appearance had altered significantly, and not for the best. On top of this, although her lips resulted looking as if stung by a bee, she continued stuffing her mouth with tissues and cotton balls during shooting, for a more... ''lustful'' result!). She even denied any treatment that would alter her physical appearance (even temporarily) after she was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1975 (she died in 1981, at the age of 58).
Moreover, she wanted very much to be respected by the public as a serious actress, but at the same time her public image seemed to be the least of her worries (to put it mildly...). I mean, if she was worried about it, she'd probably think it twice before initiating sexual liaisons with her husband's, Nicholas Ray, 13 year old son! No, Nick wasn't the easiest man to be around (on or off screen) and she had a fiery personality of her own. So, one could say that it would be only a matter of time before that marriage of theirs ''exploded''. But nobody expected THAT kind of an explosion! The scandal was (expectedly) huge and that ''incident'', in combination with the various (real or fictional, previous or future) affairs of hers, really labelled her as kind of ''whorish'' in the public's eyes. She surely didn't behave (at least to the public's eyes) as a typical Hollywood star would be expected to.
Even a minor incident, her extremely nervous appearance and her inability to say anything more than a mere ''thank you very much'', while receiving her -well deserved- Oscar for Minelli's (brilliant) 'The Bad And The Beautiful' (1952), stressed out that ''weird'' aspect of her public image: a seductive woman, a talented actress, yet too ''loony'' a person (or to others, simply too drunk...). That image had well crystallized by the time she went off to actually marry former step-son, Anthony Ray (yeah, after he turned 21!) and have two children with him (she already had a child with his father). The marriage wasn't exactly a success (although it ended with a divorce not earlier than 1974) and a series of custody battles with former husbands, her nervous breakdown in the mid-sixties and her series of alleged male conquests in-between, kept the tabloids of the time constantly busy with her.
Back to her career, Gloria was nonetheless extremely effective the few times she was given a comical part: she was wonderful in 
Capra's all-time Christmas classic 'It's A Wonderful Life' (1946), as the innocently sexy small-town girl but, alas, she made too vivid an impression, especially when she appeared as the ''whore of the town'' in James Stewart's nightmare sequence. Her on-screen presence as such, only confirmed to the studio ''geniuses'' that their initial classification of her as ''trampy'', two years earlier (in 'Blonde Fever'), was the right one. After placing such a label upon her, it was quite understandable why noir world became Gloria's (nearly) permanent home.
Don't get me wrong here - as a noir lover myself, I don't see that as such a great mishap! Gloria appeared in films such as Edward Dmytryk's great 'Crossfire' in 1947 (although appearing for only a few minutes, she shines on screen - with her platinum long hair and luminous face, as well as her wonderful acting), Nicholas Ray's 'A Woman's Secret' in 1949 (a -not so exciting- ''melo-noir'', whose only real ''perk'' are her scenes), Ray's brilliant and utterly personal 'In A Lonely Place' in 1950 (where she's absolutely magnificent in her best role ever), Josef Von Sternberg's 'Macao' in 1952 (a not all that thrilling film in which, although not seemingly to be in her best mood, Gloria's ''boredom'' somehow works for her character on-screen), David Miller's 'Sudden Fear' also from 1952 (where she's deliciously -and disturbingly- convincing as a kinky, greedy dame, conspiring with Jack Pallance to whack off his rich wife, Joan Crawford), Fritz Lang's 'The Big Heat' in 1953 (where she is simply excellent in an extremely demanding, complex role) and 'Human Desire' in 1954 (a quite ''polished'' and ''round-around-the-edges'' remake of a Jean Renoir film, which without her would probably be far less exciting), Jerry Hopper's 'Naked Alibi' also in 1954 (I admit it, not one of my favourite noirs and Gloria's role leaves her almost no opportunity to portray her character in non-clichéd way) and last but not least, Robert Wise's chilling, masterful 'Odds Against Tomorrow' in 1959 (where she's at her most astonishingly perverse and decadently seductive, excelling at playing Robert Ryan's desperately kinky, lonely neighbour, with whom he has an affair).
As a cinema lover in a broader sense though, I can't help but wondering what would have been the filmic results, if Gloria had been given the chance to play a wider range of roles. Especially having seen her displaying a delightfully funny persona in her early small comical parts ('Without Love' -1945, 'Merton Of The Movies' and 'It Happened In Brooklyn' - both 1947) and even in Fred Zinnemann's screen adaptation of the musical 'Oklahoma!' (1955). If she'd been given the chance to age on-screen into more mature parts and furthermore, the chance to reach the starring status she could have reached, inside the Hollywood system of her time.
Nevertheless -and to quote a Greek saying- ''it's better to be first in the village, than last in the city'', Gloria was definitely a QUEEN in ''noir territory'' - probably the greatest of them all, and noir world was certainly far from being a village! In its dark, sinful, exciting cinematic world, she managed to exhibit her distinctive natural acting style, her unique on-screen personality, her remarkable ability to give depth even to mere supporting parts, proving that she could be (among other things) a remarkable character actress. She was always captivating on screen, even in her less important works.
Not that all her movies were great - hell, some of her films during the last 10-15 years of her life were no more than hopelessly tawdry! But whenever the role given to her had some kind of substance lying underneath, even a slight suspicion of a human character hiding behind it, she would bring that character to life. And of course, when the role was ''meaty'' -not to mention poignant- she would be simply brilliant.
Gloria's true acting potential and versatility, her ability to portray varying emotional situations in a straightforward, truthful manner is triumphantly evident in her three best film noir appearances. Too bad the ''right'' people weren't paying too much attention...
Vicki Buckley: ''We had champagne, buckets of champagne, and he has a bear rug in front of the fireplace and we toasted marshmallows all afternoon - now you stop being so stupid and let me take my shower!''
In a role initially intended for Rita Hayworth (Columbia ''tyrant'', Harry Cohn, didn't let her have the part, to ''punish'' her for one of her affairs), Gloria is superb as Vicki Buckley - a sluttish, outrageously sexy woman married to an much older guy (Broderick Crawford). Her husband, Carl - although having sent her to her old lover (a railroad official) to get him his job back - gets insanely jealous when he suspects she slept with him to get him what he wanted. He stabs him to death in front of her, beats her up brutally and actually thinks that he'll keep her ''loyal'' and all for himself, binding her by their common guilt. Vicki - except for giving him the ''sexual deprivation'' treatment - is planning a little extra revenge for him: she starts an affair with a young train conductor, Jeff Warren (Glen Ford) and gradually convinces him to kill Carl, while retrieving an incriminating letter of hers, with which he blackmails her. But Jeff -although agreeing at first - can't go through with the plan...
Lang’s adaptation of Émile Zola’s novel ''La Bête Humaine'' is substantially simplified in terms of plot and significantly toned down in terms of studying dark sexual human behaviour (the main hero is nothing of a ''Human Beast'' - Ford's character is basically an average, fairly ''descent'' Korean veteran, in other words Lang's film is miles away from that ''sexual perversity'' problematic which Renoir wisely kept and wonderfully portrayed in his film version, through Jean Gabin's wonderful, complex character).
Gloria provides that thrilling, exciting ''desire element'' that this film desperately needs, with all sorts of wonderful, little details: smoking in her sparkling satin robe / ''welcoming'' old-hubby indifferently, while lying down eating popcorn / showing him her... new stockings by flaunting her leg into his face, while standing on bed, etc. In every scene Vicki's in, she displays such raw sexuality and compelling fierceness, that makes you think twice about who's the victim in this volatile marriage of hers! She's actually provoking Carl's violent reactions and she definitely enjoys cuckolding and humiliating him. Yes, her ending isn't a happy one - but judging from what we saw up to that point, it's quite possible that she gets one last big kick, indulging her ''kinkiness'' by taunting ''dear-old hubby'' with her adulterous activities and murderous schemes. Just before he chokes her to death, of course...
Debby Marsh: ''When Vince talks business, I go out and get my legs waxed''
At first, Gloria's Debby Marsh looks like a typical ''gangster's gal'' - well, maybe a little wittier and more spirited than the ''usual'' 
ones, and as things turned out for her, too witty and too spirited for her own good. She knows that the man she's involved with, mobster's henchman Vins (Lee Marvin), is a violent S.O.B. - but she still has the spirit to stand up to him. When he deforms half her face horribly, by throwing her a boiling hot pot of coffee, not only is her spirit not broken but she begins her own personal fight for justice (or revenge - call it what you will!). Her pain meets that of cop Dave Bannion (Glen Ford), whose wife has been recently killed by a bomb meant for him, by the gang Debby's ex-boyfriend works for.
Debby is no femme fatale - she doesn't deceive, she doesn't seduce, she doesn't lead the hero to his doom. Of course, that doesn't mean she is a saint, either. In fact, she happens to be the most intriguing and complex character of this exciting, great film. She is being gradually transformed - through Gloria's wonderful, sensitive, multi-layered performance - from a vain, narcissistic ''call girl'', into a dark angel of vengeance. But at the same time, into Bannion's guardian angel.
She's helping him expose and bust the gangsters who killed his wife, while protecting him at the same time. She's the one who actually saves his soul, when she points out to him that if he killed Vins, then he wouldn't be any different from him. Still, she goes on taking some revenge of her own. She kills the greedy, corrupted widow of Bannion's murdered partner, who works for the gang now and she also serves her ''old flame'' the hot coffee she owed him - right at the face.
As for her and Bannion, there's no real ''love spark'' between them - or perhaps only a dim little one: a would-be thing - in another time, another place, another life. He is mourning for his wife and sees a pale reflection of her in Debby. And she is mourning for her forever lost chance of being with a man like Bannion. What truly brings these two together, is their pain.
And when Debby's metamorphosis from ''tramp'' to a real, companionate woman is complete, it's time for her to go. As was usually the case for gals like her. Almost a martyr of the film's dark, unfair, hateful and angry world, she has transformed into a woman deserving to hear Bannion share some of his most precious memories of his dead wife with her. So that she can finally find her peace, just before she dies. Showing the world (and us, viewers) only the beautiful half of her face.
Dixon Steele: ''You know, you're out of your mind, how can anyone like a face like this? Look at it...'' [leans in for a kiss]
Laurel Gray: ''I said I liked it - I didn't say I wanted to kiss it.''
At a time when their own marriage was disintegrating, Ray gave Gloria the rare opportunity in her career, not only to play a leading
role, but also to star next to Boggie. And moreover, he gave her the chance to portray a female character that would haunt film noir in the most fascinating, bitter-sweet way. In your humble reviewer's (probably) most favourite noir, the genre clichés subside: there's no ''femme fatale'' and no ''slightly wild but decent, gentleman-like hero''.
There's Boggie's Dixon Steele - a darkly charming and cynically witty Hollywood scriptwriter, that kinda’ lost interest and inspiration. A man infamous for his ultra-violent rages against men AND women.
And then there's Gloria's Laurel Gray - a would-be actress, a woman so seductively beautiful and charming, intelligent and sexy (Gloria at her sophisticated best, with short blonde hair, chic wardrobe and none of her... ''trademark'' pout), that could have been the best and most... effectively deadly femme fatale - if only she had wished to be one, but she chose to be a real woman instead. Not a saint, just a woman ready and willing to give herself body and soul, to the man she'd fall for. An earthly, yet fascinating, erotic creature, who falls for old-man Dix. And she does everything to let him know.
Not only does she rescue him by providing him an alibi against the Police (who investigate a murder) but she also tries to rescue him from his worst enemy, his constantly enraged, self-destructive AND destructive self. Laurel is genuinely in love with him and hopes that she'll bring out the ''real'' man she believes is hiding behind his (sometimes apathetic, other times over-aggressive) ''front'', by proving her love to him - every single day, in every way possible. She looks after him, stands by him, even manages to bring his enthusiasm for writing back. Lover, companion and muse, she's the calm force opposite his explosive nature.
But Dix is just too screwed up to be ''saved by love'' anymore... When she sees him for what he really is, an irrationally aggressive and explosively violent (deep down, almost misogynistic) potential killer, she realizes that she can't save him... and so does he. He just walks away, in the middle of the night, leaving us no doubt whatsoever (due to Gloria's extraordinary screen presence so far) that he indeed lived ''only a few weeks while she loved him'', thus also leaving us with our own thoughts and memories of cursed loves and doomed relationships.
