By Chris Justice
Translator: Yi Ersan
Proofreading: Issac
Source: Senses of Cinema (July 2005)
Orson Wells's grotesque film noir masterpiece Miss Shanghai begins with a stark hint at fairy tales and ends with a house of joy on boardwalks. This is no coincidence. The film is based on many narrative conventions and forms, including fairy tales, fables, nightmares, surreal, film noir, and mythology, with most of the film's scenes taking place on or near water, directly pointing to its fluid, hypnotic, and dreamlike temperament.
Miss Shanghai (1947)
The story of the film's production process is equally legendary. The film also cleverly blends the opposites of realism and surrealism, art and reality, dreams and consciousness. These elements make the film one of the most complex works of Wells' aesthetic and the pinnacle of American film noir.
"Miss Shanghai" was filmed in late 1946, completed in early 1947, and was not released by Columbia Pictures until the end of 1948, which disappointed many viewers. The film begins with different versions of its titles: Take This Woman and Black Irish, and is based on Sherwood King's novel If I Die Before I Wake Up.
William Castle, who worked as an assistant producer and was involved in the creation of some screenplays, was the original copyright holder of the novel. Castle later directed the hit horror films The Haunted House (1958) and Thirteen Ghosts (1960). The film was shot on location in Columbia's studios, as well as on location in Acapulco, Mexico and San Francisco. These exteriors contributed many memorable scenes, such as the Sausalito Waterfront, The Valhera Bar and Cafe, Chinatown, the Steinhardt Aquarium in Golden Gate Park, the Whitney Playground.
Wells wrote and directed the film himself and was also the producer of the film. His excellent performance took place against an extremely challenging backdrop. In the mid-1940s, before he could rise to fame and associated with McCarthyism, Wells had been blacklisted in Hollywood. Raiden, which had released Citizen Kane (1941) and The Great Ambason (1942), worked to portray Wells as an overrated prodigy. Hollywood labeled him a luxury filmmaker, but his work wasn't always worth their investment.
Most of his films were often left in the editing room, such as Ambason the Great (later, his other outstanding film noir, Lady Raiders, was also doomed, but it wasn't that bad). Unfortunately, Miss Shanghai is no exception.
About 60 minutes of footage was removed from wells' original version, which is one of the reasons why the narrative can sometimes be surreal and embarrassingly confusing. Another reason the film feels divided is that three cinematographers were involved, two of whom were Hollywood legends: Charles Lawton Jr. and Rudolf Mattei. However, the remaining 87 minutes of the film also represent the best level of American art cinema.
Ironically, interest in the film has soared precisely because of Wells's failure. Columbia's production director Harry Cohen had funded Wells's stage play Around the World in 80 Days, but the play was a disaster and made Wells owe Cohen a favor. In addition, Cohen is also quite obsessed with the heroine of the film, Rita Hayworth.
During filming, Rita Hayworth was still Wells' wife. In fact, Cohen reportedly hopes the film will bring him and Hayworth together. But that wasn't the case, though Cohen did go to great lengths to preserve Hayworth's reputation, which he said was damaged by Wells letting her play the role of snake-tailed beauty and then fiddling with her legendary hair. In fact, Wells and Hayworth announced her new hairstyle at a circus-like press conference (which perhaps infuriated Cohen). Journalists witnessed this dramatic hairstyle first-hand and rightfully played it out.
Also, Cohen asked for at least one song from Hayworth to be inserted into the film — ultimately Alan Roberts and Doris Fisher's "Please Don't Kiss Me" (the royalties cost $60,000). Some close-ups of Hayworth were also added in post-production.
Wells's expensive set costs apparently angered Cohen as well, and by the end of the film' production, Cohen seemed more troubled than interested. He even offered a reward to someone who could explain the plot of the film to him. The tug-of-war between Wells and Cohen inevitably adds creative tension and expands the film's context.
The increasingly frosty marriage between Wells and Hayworth presented another challenge for filmmaking. Many critics argue that while the film exudes grand surrealism, the unique tension between the couple provides another layer of authenticity to the film. In November 1947, their divorce papers were officially released, which made their relationship on the screen more real. Hayworth and Wells respect each other and were friendly after the breakup. Several people who have been associated with the film have demonstrated that their off-camera interactions are often warm during production. Some even said they called each other "Mom" and "Dad" on set.
Perhaps the biggest challenge the film faced during production was the physical health of the cast and crew. The ship, called The Carl, was owned by the legendary film character Errol Flynn, who allegedly drunk during filming. A camera assistant died on the day the camera was turned on, and rumor was that Flynn wanted to throw the body into the sea in a duffel bag.
Instead, the staff placed the body on the Mexican coast and covered up the incident. Wells was bitten by an insect and his eyes were surprisingly swollen. Hayworth was plagued by mental conditions and sinus problems throughout the filming. At one point she was so sick that Wells was on a shutdown for a month.
The film is narrated by Michael O'Hara (Wells), a naïve Irish sailor who enjoys a reputation as a tough guy in New York. One day, he meets Elsa Bannister (Hayworth) sitting in a carriage and is immediately captivated by her beauty, yet she is the wife of Arthur Bannister (Everett Sloane), the "world's greatest criminal lawyer".
Later, O'Hara discovers that Elsa has been attacked by three thugs in Central Park and rescues her. After O'Hara escorted her back to the car, she invited him to take a boat ride with her the next day. But two people associated with the Bannister family eavesdropped on their conversation in a creepy way. O'Hara refused, but the next day, the deliberately lame Arthur Bannister succeeded in getting him to change his mind. Apparently someone is designing to frame O'Hara...
Miss Shanghai is cleverly interspersed with many of these film traditions, and it's hard for viewers to find a more impressive and thorough film noir. Through O'Hara's voiceover, we immediately realize that he knew Elsa was seducing him and even trying to make him a fool.
His ominous narrative is shrouded in a sense of stubborn fatalism, and although he is powerless for most of the film, the only thing that does not have a black color in the film is that he finally overcomes his own faults and stupid decisions. His voiceover, however, emphasizes an exaggerated nostalgia.
Elsa is an excellent snake and scorpion beauty, and she rarely reveals her intentions, but often reveals much of her body to O'Hara. As a former socialite, Elsa cleverly hides her dangerous past in Shanghai. She uses her outward beauty and mental anxiety, as well as her body, to express inner pain. The scene where she bathes during a gas station break and sings on the boat clearly hints at her Siren-like image.
Her dress changes throughout the film, symbolizing her constantly wavering loyalty. She sometimes wears white and sometimes black, and in other scenes she wears both colors. Throughout the film, she plays the role of a queen bee, manipulating all the male characters in the film: O'Hara, Grismi, and Bannister. Most of her intrigues take place off-screen, which adds to her mystery, charm, and power. Wells forces us to imagine her ingenious plan rather than witnessing it with our own eyes.
The violence of this film is more hidden than anything else. Although the characters in the film were actually murdered on the screen, Wells's methods of killing far exceeded the picture they presented on the screen. In the final scene, Elsa and Arthur engage in a shootout in a mirror-filled room, suggesting that not only is their bodies coming to an end, but their self-image, self-esteem, and personal legacy are also coming to an end.
One wonders if O'Hara can get rid of their haunting figures; in the film's final voiceover, he suggests that he may have spent the rest of his life overcoming the experience. Visuals hint at one possibility, while narration hints at another. This disagreement is a sign of the contradictory tone of Miss Shanghai.
Moreover, his paranoia about nuclear attack was weakened when Griesby was carried away on a stretcher; his foolish, delusional fear may have distracted him from the real danger: Elsa. This distraction is an ideological violence that suggests that the entire political philosophy that defined the Cold War could be equally distracting.
Wells also disoriented the audience throughout the film at the photographic level. The camera is rarely where it should be, and many lenses use suffocating angles, placed at claustrophobic or vertiginous vantage points, or employ chaotic compositions. The high-angle shot at the top of the yacht mast casts a dizzying shadow over the entire frame. Shots of Grismi explaining his plot to O'Hara along the coastline visually tell viewers that they are on the verge of death; the plan is doomed to fail before it even begins.
The aquarium scene is illogical, the background is distorted and exaggerated, and the abnormal big fish make the foreground particularly abnormal, depicting the real love between the naïve and fragile O'Hara and the "Black Widow" Elsa. The scene of a private courtroom also shatters our expectations of any formal courtroom etiquette. Close-ups of people chatting and high-angle shots of judges playing chess make the whole scene a metaphor for everything the legal system shouldn't represent: chaos, gimmicks, and frivolity.
Of course, when prosecutors cross-examine themselves and O'Hara pretends to be a member of another jury and escapes, all logic is broken. The climax of this absurd odyssey is the scene of the House of Joy, a relatively short passage depicting the absurd and carnival nature of Wells's anti-exploration in the film. Although much shorter, this Alice in Wonderland-style scene still sheds light on O'Hara's real experience: a nightmare at the crossroads of life and death, logic and dreams, love and desire.
Regrettably, Miss Shanghai was one of Wells's last films shot in Hollywood. He directed Macbeth, also released in 1948, and Othello in 1952, but their crossover appeal was limited as adaptations of Shakespeare's plays. Mr. Akadin was released in 1955, but was produced and distributed in Europe.
Mr. Akadin (1955) Mr. Akadin (1955)
During this decade of directorship, he starred in several films, most notably 1949's The Third Man, but much of his performances as an actor were marginalized. It was not until 1958 that he reappeared as a director. At the time, he returned with the film noir "The Lady who Was Robbed," which indicted the micromanagement and business practices of the Hollywood system. Miss Shanghai is at the forefront of many areas, including Wells' own career as a director.