Teresa Reviews “Love From A Stranger” (1947)

Fidelity to text: 2 1/2 garrotes.
Like the 1937 version, this film was freely adapted from Agatha’s short story Philomel Cottage and Frank Vesper’s stage play of the same name. Names, behaviors, even the time setting got reworked and the opening is wildly different.

Quality of film on its own: 3 garrotes.
It could have been better. A lot better. John Hodiak ably filled Basil Rathbone’s shoes but Sylvia Sidney was too old for the part of our naïve, lottery-winning heroine. They had zero chemistry together. Part of what makes a story like this plausible is fireworks between the two leads: they’ve got to make you believe that they’re crazy about each other.

Unlike the 1937 film, this version lets you know from the first moment that murder is lurking in the wings. Women are being strangled right and left in 1901 and policemen around the globe are baffled. A serial killer is on the loose; one who doesn’t murder anonymous prostitutes. Instead, he chooses desperate, naïve, wealthy women who apparently have no other prospects. Murdering women with status definitely gets the police’s interest.

I can see why women would want to marry Manuel Cortez (a very good John Hodiak). But I couldn’t believe Cecily, our heroine, was that needy. It’s true that Cecily is getting long in the tooth, but she’s got a fiancé (Nigel Lawrence) slaving away until they can marry.
However, she doesn’t care. Nor did it look reasonable to me that she had no other prospects until she hit big in the French lottery. Her flat, shared with her cousin and their aunt, was plush and crowded. They dressed well. They weren’t one step away from the slum. She had a small income from a trust left by their father, enough to support them. That’s a lure all by itself.

We don’t watch any kind of backstory about her relationship with her cousin or aunt, or their supposed poverty. Instead, Cecily wakes up from a nightmare (a blatant signal of bad things to come) and is reassured by cousin Mavis that she won the French lottery. Since Cecily lived off the family trust instead of demeaning, dead-end jobs ala 1937, we also don’t understand why she’s so desperate to gad about and travel. What was stopping her? Not dire poverty.

She’s delighted with her winnings and we assume that she’s sharing with cousin and aunt, but this isn’t spelled out. Instead, I got the distinct impression that Cecily was blowing money on herself and they got some financial assistance, but not as much as you would expect. Cecily also got written up in the newspaper as a lottery winner.

The newspaper report attracts Manuel’s attention. He’s looking for a fresh victim and naïve, dopey Cecily is the perfect target. She’s thrilled by his attentions.

Then fiancé Nigel shows up, a concerned and loving man. Unlike the 1937 version, we aren’t given a reason to dislike him or approve of Cecily dumping him. He doesn’t rant and rave at Cecily for hitting big in the lottery. He doesn’t tell her that they shouldn’t travel. He’s good-looking, he’s hard-working, he doesn’t demonstrate any bad habits. In short, he’s a dream guy for 1901. But no. Again, this didn’t make sense to me. Women in 1901 virtually had to marry; an attractive woman with some money was almost guaranteed a husband. Unlike in the 1937 film, poverty didn’t stand in Cecily and Nigel’s way.

Nigel can spot a rotter when he sees one and investigates. Manuel’s background is suspiciously clean, even for 1901 when it was easy to pick up stakes, change your name, and start over somewhere else. Cecily doesn’t listen.

She was so dumb, so pliable. She did whatever Manuel told her. She showed no curiosity about his background, swallowing whatever story he told her. She didn’t notice when Manuel gave her obvious hints about his past that anyone sensible should have noticed. The audience sure does, because the opening told us he’s a Bluebeard without the beard. This kills any of the suspense, other than waiting for Cecily to wake up and smell the coffee.

The pacing was lethargic. There was plenty of time to beef up Cecily’s relationship with her cousin, aunt, and Nigel, as well as explain better why they couldn’t marry. It felt like the scriptwriter didn’t have an imagination and so Cecily was bland and dopey because the plot demanded it. Sylvia Sidney did the best she could with her part, but she wasn’t given much to work with.

The film got better near as it neared the end. Nigel kept investigating with cousin Mavis and he has the sense to involve Scotland Yard. They had more chemistry together than anyone else in the film.

But of course, no one knows where Cecily and Manuel live because he told her not to tell anyone. Not so much as a postcard to her only living relatives, people with whom she lived for years, and of course, dopey Cecily agreed to live in isolation with a virtual stranger.

At last, the penny drops and Cecily begins developing a brain. Too many questionable things happen and she can’t ignore them anymore. When Manuel is racing home to murder her, you’ll be sure you know the ending. This was the biggest surprise in the movie. Once Cecily and Manuel move to the isolated cliff-side cottage, the film gives us numerous views of the ocean breaking on the rocky shore, the cliff looming overhead. You’ll be positive this scenic deathtrap plays a critical role in the climax (Chekov’s cliff in other words) and you’ll be wrong.

As expected, Nigel and the police show up in the nick of time, rescuing Cecily from her own foolishness. Manuel gets his just deserts and it’s quite gruesome for a 1947 film. And then it ends with Cecily and Nigel in a clinch without another word.

There are good things in this film. John Hodiak — his career was cut short by a heart attack at age 41 — gave a flawless performance as the seductive serial killer. There are moments of comedy with railway station clerks.

There are close calls where the suspense ramps up, only to vanish like sea spray in the air. The clothes are fantastic. No real person in 1901 ever enjoyed as fabulous a wardrobe as Cecily does. Even when she was supposedly poor, she was well-dressed. The costume designer was Michael Woulfe, largely forgotten today but he designed the most glamourous evening gowns for his stars. He did nightclub gowns too. Cecily, no matter what she’s doing, looks great. Great nightgowns, great day dresses, spectacular evening dresses, and hats to die for. You’ll have plenty of time to admire Michael Woulfe’s artistry while waiting for something to happen.

So should you spare the time for this version of Love From a Stranger? For completeness’s sake, yes. Otherwise, stick with the 1937 version. That was an uneven film, but it also was much better at explaining why the heroine chose to walk away from everyone she knew, abandon her faithful fiancé, and run off with a charismatic stranger. This one never did.