Some movies fare better on subsequent viewings and others not so much. 1947’s Nightmare Alley is an example of the former, and this was a picture I was quite impressed with on my first viewing.
Tyrone Power stars as savvy low-life who aspires to get rich via an evolving performance set of fake psychic abilities. The extent of his deceit, and what is at stake, will increase significantly with each additional step in the refinement of his act.
Really, there are three levels of this evolution, and there will a corresponding woman with each. The film starts with him working a simple act with Joan Blondell at a seedy travelling carnival. He then steals a complex code she knows and trades her in for a younger model, thus starting a successful high-end nightclub act with Coleen Gray. Then he reaches a bit too far and tries to become a spiritualist, partnering with duplicitous psychoanalyst Helen Walker to fleece her wealthy patients. I last saw Walker was in the screwball comedy Cluny Brown, so it was interesting to see her in a different genre.
It was only on seeing this noir a second time that I realized a key line is used for each of those three steps in his evolution and eventual downfall, and that is “I was made for this.” His last delivery of that line is a moment that would have been one of the greatest, and most cynical, final scenes of all time. Alas, the producer had additional material tacked on beyond that which softens the blow.
Still, this is one cold movie, and Power was bold in playing such a deeply reprehensible character. For those who don’t know him, he was basically the George Clooney of his day. Unfortunately, this film, and his career overall, took a beating for choosing to play against type. Still, this performance was well within his wheelhouse, as his charm and star power sells us on his ability to easily seduce others.
One aspect of this film I found interesting is he really only seems to be interested in each woman for their ability to get him to that next step where he can make more money. And these are very desirable women. A 25-year-old Coleen Gray, in particular, is stunning. Her surprisingly skimpy costume for her unusual carnival act made me feel underage, and I’m a long ways past that phase of life.
The carnival, a staple of both noir and horror, is central to this film. It isn’t like I have a real interest in the sordid history of such shows, but I know enough that the geek show elements ring true. That is where a man bites the heads off live chickens and drinks their blood. It was typical to employ for this purpose alcoholics who could be bought off with a bottle a day and someplace to sleep it off. It is presented as the lowest one could go, and I am hard-pressed to think of a further place would could fall to.
One man headed in that direction is Ian Keith, the husband of Blondell, with whom she developed the code Power will steal. Keith won’t be the film for long, but he gets a stunning scene where he demonstrates how good he was at the height of his performance abilities before the bottle brought him down. Power is completely entranced, briefly turned into a rube by a boilerplate cold reading. Keith dies shortly after this, as it turns out the bottle he’s been drinking from is the wood alcohol his wife uses in the act. I like how it is left unclear as to whether the man knew what it was and he was killing himself, and whether Power intentionally or accidentally gave him the wrong bottle.
Power may have fallen for Keith’s act, but that is nothing compared to how Walker will bamboozle him later. She is a fascinating character to watch, with an ice-cold, analytical intelligence. I noticed how she intentionally refrains from blinking in some fairly long takes. And just watch those eyes later as she gleefully pulls the rug out from under Power. She’s like a cruel child pulling the wings off a butterfly.
Nightmare Alley is a fascinating film and I found it to be an even richer experience on its second viewing. I even like how there were some questions that still lingered afterwards, such as the nature of Keith’s death. Perhaps the weirdest thing still nagging me is a couple of references to Blondell’s act, which are described as “her boob catchers”. Is that what they called bras back then?
Dir: Edmund Goulding
Starring Tyrone Power, Joan Blondell, Coleen Gray, Helen Walker
Watched on Criterion Collection blu-ray