Outrage

Ida Lupino – 1950

As if two separate stories with radically different agendas were clumsily stapled together at the middle seam, Ida Lupino’s Outrage begins as a harrowing and effective drama/thriller told from a female perspective and somehow ends as a sappy religious tract and morality play. A college-age working-class woman is stalked and eventually raped by a brute who operates a lunch stand near her office. The event traumatizes her to the point that she cannot identify her attacker, cuts off her engagement with her fiancé, and is wracked with feelings of humiliation and shame. She senses her neighbors and even strangers whispering and judging her. She leaves town to escape the pain, but with no plan, and ends up in a small town being proselyted by a self-righteous born-again Christian who persuades the vulnerable young woman that she should just endure life’s hardships knowing that God has her back. This de-facto cult leader is so noble, in fact, that he rebuffs the heroine’s affection and insists she head back home to the world that made her miserable. I find the entire premise loathsome, not only for ethical reasons, but because the first half of the film is so strong and full of promise. It sets up two things that never happen; justice for the assault victim, and – more importantly – a final act that works cinematically. Lupino’s use of film effects to suggest the protagonist’s state of mind throughout the first 30 minutes is absolutely riveting. Camera angles, shadows, psychological editing and especially the aggressive use of sound all converge to produce a sensation of dread and indignation. You never want this woman to be rescued or “helped” to get over her trauma; you want her to either orchestrate vengeance on her foul rapist, or at least decisively move forward in life on a clear path, not because a virtuous man took pity on her, but because she built up her own resolve. None of this happens. She limps back to her hometown where her attacker is still at large, with no reason to believe that her psychosis is truly cured and can only hope that she’ll find more religious fanatics who will hold her hand when she needs it. Lupino’s sharp and rigorous style in the first half is replaced by a bland and artless approach in the second, making the film feel exactly as it would if Lupino was fired and replaced mid-shoot, or she just plain lost interest overnight. The first half is so good, though, that I want to encourage people to see it. You’ll know exactly when it’s safe to turn it off; it hits you like a two-by-four.