Hamburg Noir

HISTORY

The Postman Always Rings Twice

Book
The Postman Always Rings Twice (Jame M. Cain, 1934)

Films
The Postman Always Rings Twice (Tay Garnett, 1946)

The Postman Always Rings Twice (Bob Rafelson, 1981)

An isolated roadside diner, a penny-pinching owner, his restless young wife, a “Man Wanted” sign out front, and a no-good drifter. What could go wrong?

Written by James M. Cain in the middle of the Great Depression, The Postman Always Rings Twice opens with a hobo experience that would have been familiar to readers at the time: “They threw me off the hay truck about noon.” The speaker, Frank Chambers, heads to “a roadside sandwich joint.” He immediately demonstrates his iffy character with an obvious lie to get a free lunch: “I asked if a guy had been by in a Cadillac. He was to pick me up here, I said, and we were to have lunch.” (This scene is repeated two decades later in Jim Thompson’s 1955 pulp, After Dark, My Sweet.)

The roadhouse owner, Nick Papadakis, doesn’t seem to notice or care. He’s looking for a mechanic, and Frank fits the bill. Frank has no interest in the job, just finishing his lunch. “Then I saw her.” The sulky young woman coming from the back turns out to be Nick’s wife, Cora. She avoids eye contact, but it’s clear that Nick is already the odd man out. Frank takes the job.

Initially, Frank and Cora talk indirectly about getting rid of Nick. Then they decide to run off together. When that backfires, they decide to do the unthinkable. And then fate steps in and does it for them -- almost. This downward spiral continues to the very bottom, pulling Frank and Cora under with it.

The first film adaptation was completed right after World War II with a screenplay co-authored by Cain. Not surprisingly, it follows the book closely. Frank is played by John Garfield, whose rugged good looks, Lower East Side accent, and disarming innocence give the role unspoken depth. Cora is played by former pin-up girl Lana Turner, whose private life, which included seven husbands, kept the rumor press hopping. A decade after the film hit theaters, one of her many lovers, a prominent gangster named Johnny Stompanato, was stabbed to death by her teenage daughter.

Although the film is about extreme sex and violence, it shows neither. Instead, there’s a lot of talk about midnight swims in the ocean, with a few moonlit scenes to fire up the audience’s imagination. Likewise, the first attempt on Nick’s life is not shown. Rather, a cat is electrocuted in the process. The feline’s agonized yowl and burned carcass get the point across. As does Cora’s visible horror, which, to Turner’s credit, is more frightening than seeing the aborted murder attempt.

In both the book and the film, Frank is obsessed with Cora. Emotionally, she’s the stronger of the two, playing him like a typical femme fatale. She uses Frank not so much to escape her husband as to escape poverty, a common Depression-era theme: “I was working in a hash house. You spend two years in a Los Angeles hash house and you’ll take the first guy that’s got a gold watch.”

Frank, who enjoys the freedom of the rootless drifter, doesn’t get what she really wants from him:

Frank: “We’ll ditch this Greek and blow. Just blow.”

Cora: “Where to?”

Frank: “Anywhere. What do we care?”

Cora: “Anywhere. Anywhere. You know where that is?”

Frank: “All over. Anywhere we choose.”

Cora: “No, it’s not. It’s the hash house.”

You can feel her horror in that last line.

Unfortunately, this critical exchange is missing in the remake almost 40 years later, despite its impressive pedigree. The script comes from playwright David Mamet. The two lead roles are played by Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange, the wife of playwright Sam Shepard. Nicholson’s Frank is a less-than-likeable scoundrel with a dirty face and soul. For her part, Lange’s Cora paces back and forth like a caged animal, taunting Frank into raping her. The cinematography gives the scenes a gritty feel that puts you in the middle the Depression. Any passing car might contain Bonnie and Clyde.

The book and both films conclude with brutal poetic justice, ending the downward spiral once and for all. The book and original film provide a kind of redemption, as Frank acknowledges what he’s done and faces his worst fears with hopeful resolve.