#006 KRIMI POCKET REVIEW [THE SECRET OF THE BLACK WIDOW aka DAS GEHEIMNIS DER SCHWARZEN WITWE (1963)]

[Note: This is the eighth post in a continuing series discussing and analyzing our favorite Krimis and Gialli (some of the reviews started as rough drafts on my Letterboxd account). As with every post on this site, SPOILERS SHOULD BE EXPECTED.]

My Krimi Rating: ★★☆☆☆
Subcategory (if any): 
     i. Inheritance Scheme Krimi
     ii. Ingénue in Distress Krimi
     iii.  Arent-as-Comedy-Routine
     iv.  Kinski-as-Grotesque
 Who Portrays the Detective (amateur or official): 
     O.W. Fischer (amateur); Klaus Kinski (official) 
Who's the Ingénue: 
     Karin Dor
 In My Krimi Top 20 (Y/N): No (Letterboxd link) 


1963's SECRET OF THE BLACK WIDOW plays as a weird (but ultimately underwhelming) mish-mash of canonical and non-canonical Krimi-isms. Klaus Kinski is in the cast, though in a bowler-hatted, buttoned-up, not-very-mysterious mystery man persona that feels decidedly un-Kinski-ish.

Low-key Kinski that never really pays dividends. There are shots like this that almost make Kinski's character feel sinister, in a men-in-black, secret agent sort of way. But his performance, and the film's explanation of his character, fail to reinforce this.

Karin Dor is here, in a dual role of both the series-requisite "ingenue in distress" and as a woman seeking revenge on a wealthy pack of jackals who may or may not have covered up the murder of her father on a far-flung archeological expedition. (It is this part of the plot that feels like it comes from one of Edgar Wallace's many non-Krimi stories; though this is maybe because it's not written by Wallace at all, but exists as one of the Louis Weinert-Wilton-based attempts to compete with the official Rialto series. It is for this reason also, I'd have to assume, that the avant-pop-art-psychotronic sensibility of the best "official" Krimis is all but missing. This is *in spite of* a murder weapon that somehow shoots both [toy?] black widows and bullets out of the same, unmodified barrel.)

Lots of light and shadow when it comes to Karin Dor in this movie.

Werner Peters and Eddi Arent also show up, though in roles that rank among their most forgettable. Peters is a harried moneyman whose newspaper empire has been built on the dead back of Dor's father (or so she believes). Arent is a smarmy newspaper archivist who has somehow memorized every article from every newspaper for decades, and is willing to sell this information for small favors from our lead Joachim Fuchsberger-analogue O.W. Fischer (more on him in a minute).

Our Arent librarian.

What I will say is there's a moment that feels both teleported in from the genre future (from another Krimi, ROOM 13, made in '64), and that reminded me a whole helluva lot of Lynch.

Dor is taken to a nightclub by someone who wants her to hear the performance of a popular song (about black widows o'course). The stated plot reason for this is because she's suspected of being the titular "Black Widow" killer (or at least the one sending out threatening notes in the killer's name), and being forced to listen to the song in the presence of her accuser is, I guess, supposed to get her to crack and confess everything.

The performance's actual screen time feels like it's taking up more than it warrants. (The song itself is repetitive, which probably contributes to this.) Dor is made to watch the song, wearing a look that is somewhere between "transfixed" and "uncomfortable". (Which is the connection to ROOM 13 and all those scenes with a profoundly transfixed, profoundly troubled Dor before the painted altar of her dead mother.)

What feels borderline Lynchian, though, occurs in the middle of the singing: The singer (who is shot in a way to suggest that she is staring directly, throwing loaded looks the entire time, at Dor) is shown first in the reflection of a series of mirrors, then in full spotlight, singing on the stage. Inexplicably, as the song progresses, all the lights in the night club are cut, leaving the singer in a shimmering blackness as she continues to sing her song like a mantra (her voice sounding almost artificially slowed, like playing from a degraded record that's not quite spinning at speed). 

In the darkness she raises the palm of her hand and offers it to the audience in a kind of "stop" motion. When she does this, her hand is suddenly lit—the only lit thing in the room, throwing her pronounced fingernails and knuckles into high-relief on screen. For however many seconds, we are staring at her blazing, lit-up hand like some kind of sigil. Some kind of post-hypnotic trigger meant probably not for the audience, but to specifically unlock Dor's mind.

Then we get a series of increasingly close shots of the two women's faces, a cutting back and forth between Dor and the singer, the singer looking more intent (and melancholy), Dor looking more uncomfortable. There is a portion of this sequence where the camera holds on the closeup of the singer, as she is speaking-singing the repetition of lyrics almost like an incantation.

Suddenly back in the light, without her beacon hand.

The Lynch-like sequence in question. Shades of Isabella Rossellini singing the club down in BLUE VELVET, and the woman singing in the first(?) season late at night in the local bar on TWIN PEAKS tv.

You half expect the film to go off into some kind of reverie, some kind of time-slip, some kind of TWIN PEAKS-like nightmare use of image and sound to reflect, redress, recalibrate Dor's mind. (Because I've been doing a bunch of reading about it lately, it also immediately felt like a "trigger event" in some kind of government mind-control story. Or the more likely "Art as Trigger" device that shows up in other Krimis and Gialli [again, see the ROOM 13 writeup for some context on this].)

As the song ends, the camera pans from her face to an enormous, blinding spotlight.

Alas, the rest of the movie fails to really bear out any of these associations. The proverbial lights come back up, and the paint-by-numbers plot reasserts itself to the point that any such appearance of dream-logic or soul-mystery is quickly dissolved. And then there's a bunch more stuff about gambling debts, stolen treasure, blah blah blah. Esp. a letdown because Franz Josef Gottlieb has done sublime work elsewhere. :/
 
ps. Ah, I forgot to get back to O.W. Fischer. He's the lead reporter/lead amateur sleuth in the mix. Beyond looking vaguely like Fuchsberger's less-handsome relation, he's a real dud here. He begins the movie as a complete and unapologetic lush, showing up to crime scenes with nip in hand, spouting witticisms in the most ridiculously theatrical affectation I've heard in years. (It's true that that may be an English dub problem [I had no access to the original German; but as it's clear his physical performance is meant to reinforce this affectation, I have to think the German wouldn't make it any less grating. More than anything, his performance seems intent on making us see his "hero" character as nothing more or less than a buffoon.])

(And there's a running gag about him being constantly sick, constantly sneezing, constantly swabbing at his running nose. Why does this exist in the movie? Only to annoy the audience it seems.) 
 

O.W. Fischer, in all his fake-beard, pipe-wagging glory.

He also spends the first third or so of the movie in a scraggly, highly fake beard. A beard that makes no sense in relation to his character. A beard that he promises to "shave" after he meets Dor, because (of course) within seconds of meeting her he has decided to treat her like an object that he will soon possess. Putting all that mess aside, he is the very definition of bland in a role that feels like an imitation of an imitation (of an imitation). Meh.

And on the list.

Leonard Jacobs

September, 2014

[SHOW NOTES]

VERSION WATCHED: The dreadful Televista DVD | LANGUAGE: English dub | DIRECTOR: Franz Josef (F.J.) Gottlieb  | WRITER(S): Alexandra Becker, Rolf Becker, José María Otero, Louis Weinert-Wilton | MUSIC: Martin Böttcher, Antonio Pérez Olea | CINEMATOGRAPHER: Godofredo Pacheco  | CAST: O.W. Fischer (Wellby); Karin Dor (Clarisse); Eddi Arent (Fish); Klaus Kinski (Boyd); Werner Peters (Mr. Shor); Doris Kirchner (Mrs. Shor); Claude Farell (Mrs. Ayke); Gabriel Llopart (Selwood); Fernando Sancho (Slim); José María Caffarel (Cartwright); Antonio Casas (Bronsfield); Belina (Sängerin); George Rigaud (uncredited)