When Art Imitates Life

“I was born when she kissed me. I died when she left me. I lived a few weeks while she loved me.”

A man – lonely, laconic and quick to anger. A woman – cool, collected and in hiding. Both live in the same apartment complex in The City of Angels. Murder brings them together, but will it keep them together?

Written by Andrew Solt and directed by Nicholas Ray, In a Lonely Place immerses us within the world of a Hollywood screenwriter, the rough-and-tumble, explosive Dixon ‘Dix’ Steele (Humphrey Bogart – who also produces the film); an apropos name to be sure. Struggling with a multitude of demons, he is quick to anger and even quicker to act.

Despite not having a hit since before the war, he is given a solid opportunity by his agent, Mel Lippman (Art Smith), who asks him to adapt a novel. Seemingly uninterested, he invites the club’s hat-check girl, Mildred Atkinson (Martha Stewart. . . not that Martha Stewart), to his home to summarize the book for him (as she has just finished reading it). Following their business, he sends her on her way, directing her to where cabs usually gather nearby.

Woken up early the next morning, he is brought in for questioning by his former war compatriot and present day detective, Brub Nicolai (Frank Lovejoy). The young gal has been murdered – strangled and thrown from a moving car. He is the prime suspect; his only safeguard, a mysterious, aloof and stunning new neighbour, aspiring actress Laurel Gray (Gloria Grahame) – her alibi has him reentering his home just after the lady departed it.

It does not take long for the unusual circumstances to bring the two together. It warms both of the lonely individuals, as Laurel is able to smooth his rougher edges, while Dix makes her happier than she has ever been. With the cops still snooping around, including Nicolai, who, despite the situation, still chums around with him, it does not make for an easy courtship.

Dix starts to become more controlling, questioning Laurel, finding duplicity in each one of her varied actions. She becomes wary of his bombastic behaviour – his bad boy attitude is a dual edged sword. . . it is the alluring charm that draws her in as well as the frightening actions that scare her away. As their relationship becomes more serious, she starts to question whether her beau may indeed be guilty of the heinous crime. Is Dix the murderer? Will their relationship flourish despite the stressful situation, or will it wilt with time?

In many ways mirroring the marriage of director Nicholas Ray and actress Gloria Grahame, Bogart is the filmmaker’s stand-in. The couple had a tumultuous relationship, full of ups and downs – Ray’s distrust and suspicions echoed here in the Dix character. The realism found with the onscreen couple speaks to the touches Ray added to the script, pulling from his own very complex life. Almost like something from the movies, their relationship’s concluding note finds Ray discovering Grahame in bed with his thirteen year old son from a previous marriage (another example of the disturbing, otherworldly occurrences that seem to happen in Hollywood more than anywhere else).

Mostly set in a Spanish hacienda-style complex (itself a replica of Ray’s first place in LA), the quarters feel like they are themselves a would-be character in the story. The locale is lavish as well as confining, Laurel’s second floor apartment (that looks down on Dix’s) exemplifying the way in which they have been spliced together by their surroundings. In many ways voyeuristic, it is this set-up that provides the man with his quasi alibi. It also supplies a certain romantic mood, with her elevated position making the male woo the woman, serenading her in a way.

Featuring superlative performances, it has been said that Bogart’s turn as Dix is, in many ways, the closest to his true self. Silent film star Louise Brooks actually wrote an essay on the subject. Crotchety, charming, romantic, rough, irrational and quick to anger, there is also a fragility and weakness lying just below the surface. An alcoholic, his character is both proud and selfish, a diverse mix of so many complex emotions. Grahame is a wonderful enigma. Tough to read, she warms as their relationship grows, only to begin to doubt her choice as Dix becomes more erratic. . . it does not help that Captain Lochner (Carl Benton Reid) and Nicolai’s wife, Sylvia (Jeff Donnell) both plant seeds in her mind of the man’s untrustworthy true persona.

Beautifully lit, the cinematography elevates at the most tense moments. Watch for the lighting that brings out Dix’s maniacal look as he directs a possible theory of the murder, with Nicolai and Sylvia as stand-ins. Likewise, a spat between the couple towards the end of the film demonstrates another excellent example from director of photography Burnett Guffey (From Here to Eternity; Bonnie and Clyde).

To turn to the title for a moment, it is symbolic of many things. It speaks to the loneliness of the artist – struggling in his or her own head to achieve success and creative fulfilment. Similarly, it tells of the struggles of not having love in your life – a lonely place for sure.

In many ways highlighting the dark nature of Hollywood and celebrity (much like Sunset Boulevard), though not directly connected, it also somehow feels like it relates to the blacklists of the McCarthy era – the secrecy, gesturing, finger-pointing and dissension that often ripped people apart and ruined many lives.

In a Lonely Place is a rich piece of film making. Bringing together a multi-faceted story (the quote at the beginning of the review is just one glorious example) with meaningful performances and intelligent direction, it transcends the medium, somehow baring the souls of these characters, providing heartfelt emotion that is hard to ignore. They didn’t phone this one in, so make sure to check out this classic feature that is sure to make you feel alive again.