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Take a few dark and stormy nights, fog coming in from the coast, obsession and doubt, two brothers who have a mysterious connection based on hatred, a suspicious disappearance, a shoe in the night silently grinding out a glowing cigarette butt, and, finally, a tremulous heroine who finds herself threatened as much by her own doubts as by one -- but which one? -- of the men around her. Sounds like we might have a good 80 minute noir. Instead, under the direction of Vincente Minnelli and with two A-list leads, Katharine Hepburn and Robert Taylor, Undercurrent becomes a nearly two-hour matinée melodrama, a long slog of threatening angst amidst the perfectly groomed, coifed and dressed cast. When you glance at your watch half-way through a movie and with a sinking heart see that you have another hour to go, both you and the movie probably have problems.
Minnelli, in one of his earliest non-musical movies, doesn't lay on the rococo hothouse approach as heavily as he later was known to do. Still, what is basically a simple story of greed, murder and obsession is turned into an endless Katharine Hepburn vehicle. Hepburn shows us in carefully lit close-ups how to demonstrate fear, love, anxiety, giddiness, happiness, doubt, suspicion and terror. Robert Taylor is more or less along for the ride.
Hepburn starts the movie as the tomboyish Ann Hamilton, an energetic young woman in slacks who helps her father with his inventions. Their housekeeper is determined to get her married. When Dr. Hamilton decides to sell an important formula to Alan Garroway (Robert Taylor), it's love at first sight. Garroway is the smooth, handsome, dynamic inventor of the Garroway Distance Controller, which was vital in the war, and which has turned him into a hard-charging millionaire manufacturer. He's a captain of industry, as one of his many Washington friends says. Ann Hamilton, now Ann Garroway, may still be a bit of the tomboy, but her husband shows her how to dress and how to be a successful social hostess for all those Congressmen and judges her husband knows. She learns fast and eagerly. They both are obviously and blissfully in love.
But wait. The canker is about to gnaw. Ann realizes she knows nothing about her husband's family. None of his employees or friends seem inclined to talk about them to her. When she learns bit by bit that Alan's mother died in the old family home in Middleburg while seated at the piano, or that he has a brother, Michael, who has disappeared, Alan becomes very quiet...and sometimes goes into a rage. He always apologizes. But wait once more. Did his mother really play the piano? Didn't she really die in bed? Wasn't Michael caught taking money from the family firm and Alan sent him away? All this plays out against the exquisite hotel suites, the manicured country home in Middleburg with the horse stable and the tasteful ranch house by the sea. Everyone in the movie except employees are dressed to the nines. There are exclusive cocktail parties and intimate dinners for twenty. Even in a black- and-white movie, Minnelli can't help but give us dining tables filled with crystal and china, tasteful and elegant furniture and lots of gowns.
By the end of the movie, when all is finally known, when Ann on horseback is chased along a high, extremely well-designed mountain trail by the bad guy on another horse, when she is threatened with death by boulder and her pursuer finally meets death by horse, it's a relief. Even Robert Mitchum, who plays Michael, is unable to bring much tension to the movie. What might have been in lesser hands a taut little B-movie, instead with the A list is just an overwrought melodrama, too big for its bones.


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