Before Lucille Ball became a comedy legend, she starred in Lured (1947), a stylish film noir full of suspense, glamour, and murder. Ball plays Sandra, a streetwise dance hall girl drawn into a police investigation to track a serial killer preying on women through personal ads. Alongside George Sanders, the film delivers suspenseful twists, 1940s-style fashion, and a glimpse of Ball’s dramatic range beyond comedy.

Sandra (Ball) is a tough-talking dance hall girl. You know, the kind that hangs out in a decked-out-ballroom in a gorgeous dress and dances with men half the night. The gents pay for the experience, but aren’t allowed to touch. She casts a doubtful eye on her best friend’s idealistic ambitions about the future. And when her friend goes missing, Sandra fears the worst.

One thing leads to another, and she winds up in the middle of a police investigation. The local constable wants her help in unearthing the serial killer who offed her gal pal. Though a little intimidated by the idea, Lucille agrees. Since the cops know the man stalks his victims through the personal ads in the local paper, she answers all of them… and has a series of weird and whacky encounters, from a sinister former artist who has gone off the deep end, to a little boy holding flowers in the park. Nobody is what they seem, and she has a reason to suspect even the charming man who has caught her eye (Sanders) of being an evil dude.

Though panned by the critics and not a big hit on re-release, Lured has decent acting chops behind it, and the bonus of seeing Lucille in a role that doesn’t involve Lucy setting fire to her dress or cramming chocolates in her mouth because she can’t keep up with the conveyer belt. It’s not her forte, but she does her best, and Sanders is a good foil for his leading lady. All suave and a little sinister, the audience doesn’t know how much to trust him, but is sure of one thing: he’s a dapper playboy who has never held down a relationship longer than a week in his life.

Though I don’t want to sound cranky, those kinds of men never make a leading lady a decent husband. There is no ‘reforming’ a chronic playboy, and no reason to assume that being with you will make him any different. That’s the only sour spot in this olive-martini of a motion picture. It has all the glam of the 40s, from the spiffed up shoes and glitzy hairstyles to the rumpled trench coats and hidden revolvers. Lucille gets to swan around for a while in a breathtaking dress and then shows up in a series of stylish suits. The peril is, as one expects, bone-chilling with a hint of sass. And because it had to pass the censors, we don’t get the mutilated naked corpses that fill our screens today, nor do we have to watch gruesome killings in flashback, and most of the violence appears cast in deep shadows.

Just don’t watch it at night. You may get the urge to lock your bedroom door. You never know what kind of scoundrel might lurk outside in the bushes.

Written for the We Love Lucy Blogathon!

About the Author: Charity Bishop writes historical fiction, historical fantasy, and suspense novels that explores the darkness in human hearts, and the light that refuses to be extinguished. Discover her books.