Spotlight on “Laura”: A Noir with Finesse and Flair

Who said dead men tell no tales? In Otto Preminger’s Laura (1944), the tale is spun with all the intrigue and shadowy allure characteristic of classic film noir. Yet, where other noirs indulge in predictable femme fatales and gritty detective stereotypes, Laura subtly subverts expectations. Is it a murder mystery, a character study, or a psychological labyrinth? Perhaps all three.

---

Not Your Ordinary Whodunit

At the heart of Laura is Mark McPherson (Dana Andrews), a detective who stoically navigates the high society world entangled around the dead, and perhaps not so dead, Laura Hunt (Gene Tierney). The kicker? His investigation burgeons into an obsession with this enigmatic woman, whose portrait hangs as an ever-present reminder of the mystery she's left behind. Honestly, the twisty plot unfurls with all the satisfying unpredictability one could wish for, with each character cloaked in ambiguity, and the true villain remaining tantalizingly obscured.

Style Over Sanity

And who can disagree with the adage that sometimes style triumphs over substance? In Laura, this is particularly evident. With the film’s sumptuous cinematography and David Raksin's haunting score, the film bathes viewers in a dreamlike quality. It's not so much about who pulled the trigger; it's about why we care. The characters float through these Montmartre-esque New York settings with dialogue that oscillates between biting wit and languid musings. Yet, amid the film’s artifice, there's an authenticity in its examination of obsession and identity.

Standing Apart from the Crowd

In a noir landscape rife with dames who double-cross and gumshoes who never seem to sleep, Laura teases its audience with a carefully constructed narrative. The titular character, more myth than woman, invites more than the typical noir scrutiny. Who is she, really? Tierney portrays her with a chilling aloofness, but it's Clifton Webb's Waldo Lydecker who steals scenes with aplomb. His flowery prose and sinister possessiveness give the film depth and humor. Isn't it funny how the ostensibly secondary characters often leave the most enduring impressions?

The Timeless High-wire Act

Otto Preminger's mastery of narrative control is on full display. Off-screen conflicts and on-screen chemistry blend seamlessly to evoke a heady cocktail of intrigue; Preminger reshot scenes to align with his vision, ensuring the tone tiptoed the line of camp without ever falling into parody. It’s a strategy that clearly paid off, with Laura remaining a cornerstone of the genre.

What’s fascinating about Preminger’s work here is how it invites introspection on the nature of desire and the masks we wear. Yes, a murder mystery beats at its core, yet it challenges viewers to consider the nuances of narrative and the role of director as both creator and curator.

Laura may live in the apartment of noir, but it lingers in the halls of cinematic history for its bold assertion that oftentimes, less is more, and illusion is—in more instances than one—reality's strange bedfellow. As the curtain falls, one might wonder: If we were to explore what lies beneath the noir facade, would we find a mirror reflecting our own truths—or merely shadows of those enigmatic faces we thought we knew so well?