[4]
The Strange Love of Martha Ivers starts off strong with fifteen minutes of compelling backstory. We’re introduced to a pre-teen girl named Martha hiding out in a train yard with a scrappy young lad named Sam. The police capture them and return Martha to her stern, wealthy aunt, played by the ever-wonderful Judith Anderson (Rebecca). Sam comes to her bedroom window that night and Martha decides to run away with him again, but a tragedy unfolds that will change the lives of all involved. The aunt is killed. Sam escapes into the night. Martha inherits a fortune, and another young boy, Walter, promises to keep what he saw a secret.
Then we move fifteen years into the future, where Sam is played by Van Heflin, returning to his childhood hometown out of morbid curiosity. He learns that Martha (Barbara Stanwyck) is married to Walter (Kirk Douglas in his screen debut), now a district attorney who uses Martha’s financial backing to further his political career. A sordid love-rectangle forms, with Martha pining for Sam, Walter getting jealous, and Sam striking up a new romance with sultry Toni (Lizabeth Scott, channeling Lauren Bacall). The plot thickens when Scott gets put in jail and Heflin goes to Douglas to help get her out. Enter blackmail, fist fights, and adultery as lines are drawn and secrets revealed. Not everyone lives to see the end credits.
This sounds far more exciting than it is, unfortunately. Despite solid casting, gorgeous photography by Victor Milner, confident direction from Lewis Milestone (All Quiet on the Western Front), and a romantic score by Miklos Rozsa, The Strange Love of Martha Ivers unfolds at a tedious snail’s pace. After the terrific opening, the film falls into a pattern of two-person talking scenes — and very little of what anyone is saying is interesting. The ending picks up when Stanwyck, Heflin, and Douglas have their final, fateful confrontation, but it’s not quite enough to save the film from its dull and lifeless middle.
With Roman Bohnen and Ann Doran.
Oscar Nomination: Best Story (John Patrick)