 |
Jefty (Richard Widmark), center, makes a point with
Pete (Cornell Wilde) as Lily (Ida Lupino)
looks on in "Road House." |
Road House (1948, Twentieth Century-Fox)
Starring Ida Lupino, Cornell Wilde,
Richard Widmark, Celeste Holm
Screenplay Edward Chodorov
Directed by Jean Negulesco
“She reminds me of the first woman
that ever slapped my face.” — a patron of Jefty’s Road House
When I took geometry so long ago that it must have been Pythagoras himself who instructed me, I learned about equilateral, isosceles, and scalene triangles. However, I’ve had no need for them since I left the class. The one I’m most familiar with is the eternal triangle, which powers Road House, an undeservingly obscure, but powerful movie from the height of the film noir period.
Longtime friends Pete (Cornell Wilde) and Jefty (Richard Widmark) make up two sides of the triangle, while Lily (Ida Lupino) beautifully fills out the third. Jefty owns the establishment of the title, an entertainment center near the Canadian border that features bowling, pool, a bar, and a rotating selection of chanteuses. Pete, the brains of the outfit, runs the popular and successful joint. All is well until Jefty returns from Chicago with Lily, a haughty, hard-boiled, smoky-voiced singer who is to be the main attraction.
Pete and Lily are at odds from start, as seeing Jefty bring a string of women to the place makes him cynical about her. The ice between them begins to thaw when Lily knocks everyone dead with her heartfelt torch songs. For Jefty’s part, he has delusions that Lily’s in love with him, despite her constant attempts to avoid his touch. Pete and Lily melt the rest of the ice and turn the heat up to 600 degrees while Jefty is on a hunting trip.
The trouble begins when Jefty returns with a moose and a marriage license with Lily listed as the bride. After Pete tells his friend of many years that Lily and he have fallen in love, and it is they who will be married, Jefty loses all reason and sets out to torture the lovers for their betrayal. A showdown between them in the last scene leaves no one untouched.
Road House features one of Wilde’s best performances, and Widmark proves he was no one-hit wonder after his debut in Kiss of Death in 1947. But this is Lupino’s show, and she grabs it with both hands. Her portrayal of a woman who has developed a hard shell because of the rough deal she’s gotten from life, but whose vulnerability isn’t completely hidden behind it, is marvelous and real. Lupino’s singing is just as effective and affecting as her acting. The sadness and longing Lupino as Lily puts into songs of unrequited love makes it clear Lily believes her personal fate always will mirror her tunes. It’s that much sweeter when Lily finds in Pete what she’s long sought, and that much more painful when Jefty tries to take it away.
For me, Road House offers double the pleasure. As a huge fan of film noir, I find it’s a fine representative of the genre. As an incurable romantic, I find the passion between Pete and Lily highly moving.
