She’s remembered for frothy comedies, and maybe for singing “Que Sera, Sera” in The Man Who Knew Too Much (1956). But Doris Day occasionally found herself in serious parts aside from her lone starring role with Alfred Hitchcock. Even when murder lurked, her persona remained intact. Whether confronted by a psycho killer or Rock Hudson, Doris Day remained warm, accessible, unthreateningly sexy.
In her little known gem from 1960, Midnight Lace (out now on Blu-ray), Day also gets to show terror. The film doesn’t waste a moment: in the opening scene, as Day walks to her London home through a blinding fog, she is accosted by a weird voice, fruity yet threatening, vowing to kill her. That voice stalks her throughout the film, usually by telephone in the age before caller ID and messaging. Will anyone believe her?
Midnight Lace is part of a genre I’ll dub “women in distress pictures.” They were produced at a time when a husband could commit his wife to the asylum and women were dismissed by medical science as inevitably hysterical. A woman’s power came through her man in that epoch and if the man was dubious, up to no good…?
Many women in distress pictures also fell within the boundary of film noir, and although in full color, Midnight Lace is noirish in some scenes with deep menacing shadows and lurid nocturnal lighting. Day’s character, an American heiress recently married to a British corporate executive played by the unfailingly charming Rex Harrison, is almost entirely at the mercy of the men around her—they’re either in on the plot, up to their own bad game or easily dismissive of her fears. Even the one person who might understand, her visiting aunt (Myrna Loy), hesitates to speak strongly on her behalf.
Midnight Lace was directed by David Miller, a competent veteran whose resume is otherwise mostly forgettable. The elegantly disorienting apartment with its subtly mirrored surfaces—the setting for much of the action—was designed by Alexander Golitzen, a longtime art director who deserves a biography.
