Strange Love

“The Strange Love of Martha Ivers,” to be exact. Man, what a movie. Found a decent DVD of it for a whopping $5 in a bargain bin last year, and I couldn’t be happier. Finally sat down to watch it last night, and wasn’t displeased. Man, that movie has everything. Thankfully, it’s the kind of movie that no one could really remake today (though that didn’t stop them from trying with “The Postman Always Rings Twice,” did it?). Kirk Douglas’s first role, and a pretty good one. Van Heflin doing that Van Heflin thing — the women love him. Barbara Stanwyck moving away from sex kitten into dangerous dame territory. Long exposition, total reliance on music for mood, and the smokin’ beauty of Lizabeth Scott, who practically comes with her own smoke machine and saxophone music. (More on Lizabeth here.)

My great-great aunt who took care of me when I was young had some kind of bitter issue with Barbara Stanwyck, who by the ’60s had taken to titling herself “Miss Barbara Stanwyck.” This drove my aunt insane, and every time “The Big Valley” came on, she would be sure to proclaim that Barbara Stanwyck, having been married, was no “miss.” (She also held a grudge against Peter Lawford for what he’d done to the Kennedys, but that’s for another time.)