Thursday, January 29, 2026

In memoriam: Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare

Photograph of Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare

Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare, 1980s. Image credit: David Corio. Image source: The Guardian

On Tuesday The Guardian carried an obituary for the drummer Sly Dunbar, who together with his bassist partner Robbie Shakespeare made up the rhythm section Sly & Robbie. Both men had been mentored by members of Bob Marley's Wailers: Sly by drummer Carlton Barrett, and Robbie by Carlton's brother, bassist Aston "Family Man" Barrett, who gave him his first bass, a Hofner. Aston also helped Robbie get gigs. That's a 19-year-old Robbie playing bass on "Concrete Jungle," the first track on the Wailers' 1973 breakthrough album Catch A Fire.

Sly & Robbie were a key element in the dark, spare sound of Black Uhuru's hugely influential Showcase album, released in 1979; over the solid kick-drum and bass foundation, Dunbar added distinctive accents on the off-beat. The songs were released in various versions; the extended dub mixes put the rhythm section at the forefront. Which was a good thing: some of Michael Rose and Duckie Simpson's lyrics were misogynistic ("Shine eye gal is a trouble to a man") or anti-abortion (in "Abortion" they call the procedure "first-degree murder"). But "General Penitentiary" was their masterpiece ("Cause the food that you take to save your life can let you lose it the same. . .General Penitentiary, it's a warehouse of human slavery"):

https://youtu.be/RDstxZ1JiGA

Lyrics aside, sonically Showcase felt somewhat like the reggae equivalent of Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures (particularly tracks like "Candidate"). The spareness of Showcase also clearly influenced the sound of Gang of Four ("Paralysed") and the Au Pairs ("Headache (for Michelle)," which has never felt more relevant). But Sly & Robbie's music wasn't only dark and dread. They also backed the duo Althea & Donna's cheeky 1978 dancehall hit "Uptown Top Ranking," name-checked on the Psychedelic Furs' "We Love You" from their debut album just a few months later. (The Furs lyric had been a mystery to me until my girlfriend pulled the Althea & Donna album out of her collection and gave it a spin to dispel my ignorance. Dispelling my ignorance is a task my girlfriend and now life partner continues to this day.)

https://youtu.be/VE-A5JULvRM

A few "Uptown Top Ranking" lyrics (written by Althea Forrest & Donna Reid):

See me in mi heels an' ting
Them check so we hip an' ting
True them no know anyting
We have them going an' ting

Nah pop no style
I strictly roots
Nah pop no style
I strictly roots

See me 'pon the road, and you no call out to me
True you see me in mi pants an' ting
See me in mi halter back
Say me give you heart attack
Give me little bass, make me wind up mi waist
Uptown top ranking

Love is all I bring
Inna mi khaki suit an' ting

Sly & Robbie quickly became in-demand session musicians and producers. Working at Island Records' Compass Point Studios, they provided the rhythm section for Grace Jones' Warm Leatherette (1980) and Nightclubbing (1981), her re-imaginings of songs by The Normal, Roxy Music, Tom Petty, Iggy Pop, Marianne Faithfull, and The Police, among others. Jones' version of The Pretenders' "Private Life" is definitive:

https://youtu.be/yvLn_qC7QAs

I'm clearly not the only person to hear a Joy Division connection in Sly & Robbie's sound; the B-side of the "Private Life" single was a non-album cover of "She's Lost Control." (That cover, though, deliberately subverts Unknown Pleasures' original. I find the arrangement to be too busy and the vocals too declamatory. A rare misfire.)

Sly & Robbie continued performing and recording together for decades, backing musicians as disparate as Gwen Guthrie ("Padlock"), Gwen Stefani ("Underneath It All"), and Bob Dylan (Infidels). Their collaboration ended only with Robbie Shakespeare's death from kidney failure in 2021 at age 68. Now Sly Dunbar has followed him at age 73. Not to take anything away from their later work, but it is the indelible music they created as the late 1970s shaded into the early 1980s for which they will always be remembered.

Let's give Althea & Donna the last word. "No More Fighting":

https://youtu.be/drY8NndCsGE

No more fussing and fighting
We want no more, we want no more
No more stealing and back-biting
We want no more, we want no more

Alone I sit in deep meditation
Wondering why the wicked still survive
Killing and stealing is part of their daily life
I wanna know, I wanna know, I wanna know
When it's all gonna end

Saturday, January 24, 2026

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Starring Barbara Stanwyck (Martha Ivers), Van Heflin (Sam Masterson), Lizabeth Scott (Toni Marachek), and Kirk Douglas (Walter O'Neil). Screenplay by Robert Rossen, after the short story "Love Lies Bleeding" by John Patrick; directed by Lewis Milestone. Produced by Hal Wallis, distributed by Paramount Pictures, 1946.

Poster for The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

Poster for The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Image source: imdb.com

Film noir is often portrayed as an urban genre: the noir classics The Maltese Falcon and The Lady from Shanghai are set in San Francisco; The Big Sleep and Double Indemnity are set in Los Angeles; Call Northside 777 and Undertow are set in Chicago; and Phantom Lady and Laura are set in New York, to mention just a few examples of many. There was even a post-WWII trend of noir films that announced their urban locations in the title, such as The Naked City, Cry of the City, Dark City, and Night and the City.

But in the world of noir, evil is not confined to cities—it saturates the whole of American society. In movies such as Shadow of a Doubt, The Postman Always Rings Twice, Out of the Past, and The Big Heat, suburbs and small towns are not havens of tranquility and safety, but sites of corruption, murder, blackmail, and betrayal.

Which brings us to The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. In 1928 in Iverstown, a Pennsylvania steel town, a teenaged Martha Ivers (Janis Wilson) is being raised as the ward of her strict aunt (Judith Anderson, the domineering housekeeper Mrs. Danvers in Hitchcock's Rebecca). The aunt owns the town's mill, which she runs with an iron fist with the aid of her fawning factotum O'Neil (Roman Bohnen). Martha hates her aunt and tries to run away with bad boy Sam Masterson (Darryl Hickman), but she is caught and brought back (for what we learn is the fourth time).

Janis Wilson, Judith Anderson and Roman Bohnen in <i>The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

Janis Wilson (young Martha), Judith Anderson (Mrs. Ivers) and Roman Bohnen (Mr. O'Neil) in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Image source: listal.com

When later that same night Martha tries running away with Sam again, her aunt hears a noise and comes to investigate. Their encounter ends with Martha wresting her aunt's walking stick from her hand and striking her in the head, causing a fatal fall down the stairs.

When O'Neil bursts in, Martha blames the assault on a nonexistent intruder. O'Neil's son Walter (Mickey Kuhn) has witnessed it all, but under the questioning of his father corroborates Martha's story. O'Neil immediately suspects the truth, and under the guise of solicitous concern for Martha's welfare seizes the opportunity for blackmail: "You poor child; you'll be all alone in the world now. . .But you needn't be afraid. We'll always be with you, Walter and I. We'll never leave you." Indeed. An alcoholic ex-millworker who'd been fired by Mrs. Ivers is picked up, and—thanks to the testimony of Martha, supported by Walter—is swiftly convicted of the murder and hanged.

Flash forward 18 years to 1946. On her aunt's death Martha inherited the mill, which over time she has hugely expanded, from 3,000 workers to 30,000. "I did it all by myself," the adult Martha (Barbara Stanwyck) says. (We don't doubt that Martha is a supremely competent corporate executive—she's Barbara Stanwyck, after all—but wartime demand for steel may have played a part.) Her money was used by Walter's father to send his son to Harvard; although Martha despises Walter, their shared guilt binds them together, and they are now married. The adult Walter (Kirk Douglas, in his first film role) tries to quiet his conscience and soothe the miseries of his unreciprocated love for Martha with drink.

Kirk Douglas and Barbara Stanwyck in a publicity still from The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

Kirk Douglas (Walter) and Barbara Stanwyck (Martha) in a publicity still from The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Image source: Crooked Marquee

Sam left Iverstown the night of the murder and has grown up as a drifter and a gambler, but he's his own man and lives by his own moral code. Discharged from the army and driving west, the adult Sam (Van Heflin) has an accident on the road outside of Iverstown (paging Dr. Freud!) and is stuck in town until the car is repaired.

When he stops by his childhood home, now a women's rooming house, he meets Toni Marachek (Lizabeth Scott), who has "been away for awhile"—in jail for theft. She's out on parole and is supposed to catch a bus back to her hometown, but sees a chance for a fresh start out west with Sam.

Publicity still of Lizabeth Scott in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

Lizabeth Scott (Toni Marachek) in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Image source: Wikipedia.com

She's not the only woman in Iverstown imagining a future with Sam; when he inevitably encounters Martha, her teenaged feelings for him are reawakened. The stage is set for a love quadrangle, with both women vying for Sam, and Walter justly perceiving Sam as a rival for Martha. He also recognizes Sam as a threat to reveal the truth about that fatal night almost two decades ago, a threat that must be dealt with. Revelations about the past, betrayal, and death will soon follow.

At times The Strange Love of Martha Ivers feels almost as claustrophic as Luis Bunuel's The Exterminating Angel. All the characters are trapped. Most obviously, Martha and Walter are inextricably tied to one another by their mutual guilt. But neither Sam nor Toni can escape Iverstown: the bus somehow always leaves without Toni, while Martha makes sure that the repairs on Sam's car make no progress. 

There's also no escape for Sam and Toni from the power of Martha and Walter. When Martha surprises Toni and Sam together in their connecting hotel rooms, Sam snaps, "Even a crummy hotel like this has a switchboard." "I have special privileges this hotel, Sam," Martha replies. "I own it." But Martha, rich and alluring as she is, represents the past for Sam; Toni is the future.

Sam, Toni and Martha in Sam's hotel room

Van Heflin (Sam Masterson), Lizabeth Scott (Toni Marachek), and Barbara Stanwyck (Martha Ivers) in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Image source: Feminéma

Even when Walter orders some goons to beat up Sam and dump him 25 miles out of town, Sam must return to settle the score. Only when the past has been confronted and everything is out in the open can any fresh starts be made. But Martha and Walter are trapped together in a web of lies from which there is no escape.

Director Lewis Milestone (All Quiet on the Western Front, Ocean's 11) heightens the sense of confinement through the tight framing of the characters in medium shots and close-ups or isolating them against dark backgrounds, while cinematographer Victor Milner (who worked extensively with both Ernst Lubitsch and Preston Sturges) effectively employs silhouettes and shadows to create sense of mystery. (It always seems to be night in Iverstown, and raining more often than not.) The one misstep is the sometimes overwrought score by composer Miklós Rózsa (Double Indemnity, Spellbound), which can seem mis-matched to the gritty mise-en-scène.

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers is full of surprises. For me the first was Van Heflin's standout performance as the morally ambiguous but sympathetic Sam. Until I saw this movie Van Heflin's name in the credits was not an inducement to watch, but I'll have to explore more of his filmography.

Barbara Stanwyck and Van Heflin in a publicity still from The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

Barbara Stanwyck (Martha Ivers) and Van Heflin (Sam) in a publicity still from The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Image source: The Cinematheque

This is even more true of Lizabeth Scott. During filming she was just 23, and The Strange Love of Martha Ivers was only her third film. But she completely inhabits the character of Toni, a woman who has been crushed by circumstances. Although she looks and sounds like Lauren Bacall, Toni doesn't share her strength: any bravado she might once have possessed has been beaten out of her by life. Lizabeth Scott made a specialty of roles in noir films, and beyond this movie so far I've only seen Dark City. I definitely want to see more.

John Kellogg, Lizabeth Scott, and Van Heflin in The Strange
  Love of Martha Ivers

John Kellogg (Joe), Lizabeth Scott (Toni), and Van Heflin (Sam) in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Image source: Heart of Noir

Kirk Douglas is totally convincing as the conscience-ridden, alcoholic Walter. Just a year later he played the suave mobster Whit Sterling in Out of the Past, and soon thereafter became a top-billed star. But in his first role he shows that he is not only a movie star, but an actor of surprising range.

And what is there to say about Barbara Stanwyck that hasn't already been said? Martha Ivers is amoral, selfish, willful, ruthless and brutal, but also indomitable, independent, and smart: she knows what she wants and goes after it. She recognizes that Sam represents her last chance of happiness, but ultimately that it's impossible for them to be together—a realization that has tragic consequences, and not only for her.

Kirk Douglas, Van Heflin, and Barbara Stanwyck in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers

Kirk Douglas (Walter), Van Heflin (Sam), and Barbara Stanwyck (Martha) in The Strange Love of Martha Ivers. Image source: Daily Motion

Many thanks to the dear friends who invited us to see The Strange Love of Martha Ivers on the big screen (at Berkeley's Pacific Film Archive), as it and all films should be seen.