This romantic melodrama, directed by Edgar G. Ulmer -- the giant of Poverty Row best known for his ability to write, produce, and direct a full-fledged movie on a budget of two cents -- has Hedy Lamarr as a scheming, poor, young wanton in 19th-century Bangor, Maine. Of course all the men are after her because she's beautiful. She really is. It doesn't matter that her name isn't actually Hedy Lamarr. Nobody is named Hedy Lamarr. She was born Cosima Ausgang von Bahnhof in Furzheim, Germany. But, honestly, it doesn't detract from her appeal, nor does the fact that she got into Hollywood movies by seducing a move mogul on a trans-Atlantic passage.She insinuates herself into the arms of the lustful and rotund Gene Lockhart. He believes he's tricked her into marriage but it's the other way around. He's the richest merchant in the port of Bangor and besides he has a handsome young son, Louis Hayward, away at Harvard. Once properly ensconced in Lockhart's home, she writes Hayward, who is her age, to hurry back to Bangor so "I can show you how warm a mother can be," the slut. The thoughtful decent architect returns to his home. Lamarr at once puts tantalizing moves on him.Ulmer has a reasonable budget here and makes good use of it, and there are some adequate performances. Gene Lockhart in particular knows his way around a rather complicated role. Hayward is less jaunty than usual. In fact, he's something of a milquetoast. When a mob abuses a young working woman, it's Lamarr who intervenes, not Hayward. Lamarr herself, hobbled by a slight accent, projects the workings of her mind the way a traffic light signals "go" or "caution" or "halt." There's not the slightest hint of subtlety. But, honestly, it doesn't detract from her appeal.Halfway through, George Sanders shows up. He's Lockhart's foreman at the lumber camp. A foreman, yes, but a dapper one. I've never really thought of George Sanders as a rough-and-tumble man of the woods, a Sebastian Junger, but rather the cad he usually is. However, his smooth posh baritone saves his bacon. He's the beau of Hillary Brooke, a childhood friend of Lamarr's. But the moment he appears, Lamarr's features become incandescent and glandular. She begins to avoid her son. Has Hayward shown himself to be not enough of a man? Is there any end to Lamarr's depravity? It has to be said that the plot is a little unraveled somewhere around the mid-point. Things kind of nudge themselves into the plot without adumbration. A riot erupts out of nowhere. The selfish Lamarr begins distributing money, leading the Temperance League, and doing community service without explanation. Maybe we're meant to exercise our inferential faculties with more vigor. I think it's bad screen writing.Then, when Hayward is packing for a trip up river and they're alone in the house, she lets her hair down, descends the grand staircase, snuffs out the lights and silently approaches him while he gawks at her in fright. For a moment, it looks like a vampire movie. But instead of sucking his blood, she extorts the poor guy, blackmailing him into thinking that he must snuff his own father. Patricide is a serious business. If you were a patricide in traditional China, you would be subject to a long and lingering death, your relatives would have curses tattooed on their faces, and the bones of your ancestors would be exhumed and scattered to the winds, no kidding. The moral is: don't do it unless you feel really strongly about it.As it turns out, Hayward is accidentally instrumental in causing his father's death when in a panic he overturns the canoe running the rapids. I don't want to bother looking it up, but it seems to me the shots of the canoes and the rapids are from an old John Ford movie. It's exactly what Lamarr wants. Lockhart is out of the way and the wretched Hayward is somehow responsible, so she kicks him out and turns her attention to George Sanders. Hayward, ridden with guilt, turns into a drunk.Situation report: Lamarr has become the doyen of Bangor, Maine. She has done so by seducing Gene Lockhart, Louis Hayward, and George Sanders, by seeing to it that Lockhart has met his death, by prompting the despairing Hawyard to hang himself, and by stealing away the beau of her best friend, Hillary Brooke. She's now "the richest woman in New England." Little does she know, tragedy lies just around the corner..

This turgid hodge podge of a movie features some good performances along the way, but Hedys'character is too often unfathomable. Could prove OK for lovers of over ripe potboilers in the Mills and Boon category.Most actors do well with their over baked rolls, and even though George Sanders is cast a little against type, he handles it well. The Kids, during the somewhat cruel opening scenes try hard, but the script is a little over the top.It's all quite lurid for its day, with B grade specialist Edgar Ulmer, giving it some dark moodiness. There's a good traveling Preacher segment with a fiery sermon waking up some guilt in Hedys'twisted persona.Offers some odd interest, especially as a comment on the dangerous levels of lawlessness in backwoods towns in the mid 1800s. But the overall effect, is one in need of better handling.

Sigmund Freud killed Pierre Janet. The French School of "psychopathology driven by child abuse" of the late 1800s and early 1900s was crushed by the German-Austrian School of "innate drives in conflict with morality" in the early 20th century. (Hey! The latter fit so much better with authoritarian religion.) So what does –that- have to do with "The Strange Woman?" Plenty, if one views the script through the lens of modern-day interpersonal psychology. Beat and molest a beautiful female child; figure on a physically empowered, castration-bent sexual predator in adulthood whose ego has split into warring fragments of viciousness and guilt. Janet was the only major figure in the study of human behavior who'd written extensively on what we see in Lamarr's character up to the time "TSW" was made. Sharron Stone has done the nasty half of the character with a lot more vitality in a number of films, but the fact that the resentful, revenge-obsessed, adult molestee was the central character in any Hollywood production in 1946 is remarkable.I'd love to know how this project came together. My (educated) guess is that co-writer Hunt Stromberg was in the middle of it from the inception. According to Aberdeen's book, Hollywood Renegades, Stromberg had formed an independent production company to produce films like "Lady of Burlesque" with "Bad Barbara" Stanwyck (well, that's what they called her in those days) in 1942. He followed up on "TSW" with another (somewhat better) Lamarr vehicle called "Dishonored Lady" featuring a similar theme.Director Ulmer ("The Black Cat," "Girls in Chains," "Ruthless;" all amusing) wasn't quite up to his best here, even though he was a native German speaker working with a… native German speaker. Even so, Lamarr (surely one of the most beautiful women in film history) is fairly interesting here, even if she remains insufficiently histrionic to pull this off as believably as might have been the case had Stanwyck, Davis or Crawford taken the part. I love to –look- at her, but Lamarr seemed to be unable to allow her characters to really inhabit her at any point in her career.Best dialogue: Lamarr: "But, the rain! You know what happens in the rain. The roads get very dangerous." Sanders: "Yes; they get very… muddy." Ask any male who's ever fallen into the snakepit with a dissociated borderline / adult-molested-as-a-child what -that's- about. The worth of watching this one is largely in the first 20 minutes… and perhaps for Hayward's rendition of the used up, discarded tool on her way up in a world of (disgusting, easily manipulated) –men-. (I know plenty of guys who've been –there-.) But I (personally) related more to Sanders obsession with playing with fire even though he knew better. Some of you will, too. Hahahahahaha.

It's the old story...woman with her lascivious, tempting ways turns man into a beast or a weakling, and all because of the lust she's held responsible for arousing in his...ah...heart. "I always lose happiness...I can't seem to hold it," says Jenny Hager (Hedy Lamar), daughter of the town drunk. Jenny is poor and beautiful beyond most schoolboys' dreams. She is determined to use that beauty to marry a rich man. It's the 1840's in Bangor, Maine, and the older man she sets her sights on is the leading merchant in town. Isaiah Poster's eyes on her tell us what he wants, and one day she allows herself to be whipped by her drunken father so that she can run to Isaiah and plead protection. It's not long before she has married this middle-aged, fat tycoon, the richest man in Bangor. And before long, when she meets Ephraim Poster (Louis Hayward), Isaiah's son who is her age, you can see Jenny knows that money with youth will be more fun than money with age. Then she meets John Evered (George Sanders), who works for her husband as a woods boss, in charge of the lumbermen who log the timber old Ephraim owns. That John is engaged to her best friend doesn't stop Jenny's evaluation of things: Riches plus youth plus vigor is better than riches plus youth. As Jenny says, "Men like me...and it's men that have the money in this world!" Well, folks, be prepared to see one man die in a river torrent, another man die at the end of a rope and a look of disgust cross a third man's face. If you think this movie has a happy ending, you haven't been reading your Bible lately. The Strange Woman is a strange hybrid of Eugene O'Neill and parts of Forever Amber. The hypocrisy that oozes like spoiled milk from this movie makes only one point: A woman who uses her sexuality and her smarts must be up to no good, even if the men in her life are drunks, boors, weaklings and prigs. She must pay the price for being hot stuff. Jenny is a complicated woman, made up of equal parts compassion, resentment, ambition and sex...and she's a woman who loves a challenge. She finds ways to help the poor. She steps forward to enlarge the church to keep the grog shops small, to pay the doctor's bills of the sick, to send teachers up to the families where the loggers work. Her crime seems to be that of having a calculating willingness to use her sexual allure to better herself and get her way. "It wasn't by knowing how to set a table that Cleopatra got along" she says at one point. Edgar Ulmer, a B-movie director who for once in his life was given a proper budget with name actors, turns in a product which moves right along. There are some nice scenes, including a sexual setup in a lightning storm that is dramatic as all get out. Some think that the look of the movie and the inevitable retribution qualifies it as a noir. Maybe. But the movie itself is all melodrama, with an obvious script and a corny music score that undercuts whatever dramatic interest there might have once been. Hedy Lamar does an impressive job portraying Jenny. Lamar was a beautiful and smart woman, a better actress than most gave her credit for, and now, unfortunately, is remembered mainly as a Mel Brooks joke in Blazing Saddles. George Sanders doesn't bring much to the party as John Evered. He's not very believable in rough clothes as the woods boss, and later he comes off as an uncomfortable person to have as a soul mate. Louis Hayward is the real mystery. Hayward was a competent, versatile actor, believable in drama, light comedy and period adventures. He chose, or his contract chose for him, to play a weakling for whom we mainly feel pity tinged with contempt. However, he and Lamar, and Gene Lockhart as Isaiah, carry the acting load. Perhaps that's what Hayward saw in the part. The Strange Lady, in my view, is not a movie to make fun of even if it's overwrought. The lesson lies in what Hollywood sees as proper justice for a woman who is just as willing to use and enjoy her sexuality a man does. Well, okay, that's a little film-historian sounding. But the movie still smells of self-satisfied hypocrisy.