Let’s say about 1955-1966 for Late Noir; that is, original stories (or based on original plays, stories, and novels). Remakes or movies set in period make up Retro Noir; mostly 1967 and up.

The Night Holds Terror, 1955

******+ 6.5

Kind of late to the film noir landscape, The Night Holds Terror has a split focus. The first part is pretty tense noir, but, then a Dragnet-like (voice-over) police procedural tone hijacks the plot, leaving us wondering what movie we’re watching. Actually, once this hitchhiker-turned-home-invasion plot gets rolling, the domestic scene has already worn out its welcome, so to speak.

Jack Kelly is our primary victim, Gene Courtier; Hildy Parks plays Doris, Gene’s wife. John Cassettes, Vince Edwards, and David Cross are the criminals Robert (the leader), Victor (the easily-led kid), and Luther. And there’s neighbor Phyllis (Joyce McCluskey).

Our too-trusting hero Gene picks up Victor, a Farley Granger type guy, on the desert highway. In short order Gene’s about to be executed by the trio of hoods. An excellent beginning, both because the creeps toy with him, and we wonder if they’re too chicken to really kill. Also the complete randomness of the abduction rolls straight out of the existentialist noir garage.

That is, if their mark had more cash on him (hood #1 Robert mistaking Gene’s car for a luxury model) probably not much more than an everyday robbery would’ve occured. But the shifting sights of the criminals, along with consequent unintended developments, determines that we have our story.

Typical of this sort of movie–but mindful of its true-crime origins–there’s more than a few opportunities for Gene to either escape, or turn the tables on the bad guys. Well, he does try, especially once we get to the home front.

That transition is deftly-handled. Doris naturally freaks, but doesn’t start drooling or getting manic; she’s hostile of course, but savvy enough not to show how much, as she has to protect the kids. Luckily, the kids aren’t directly victimized. Gene gets beat up here and there though; and the creep master tries to make out with Doris.

What’s interesting is the cliched–but believable–device of the loose-cannon/weak link of the criminals. It’s obvious from the beginning that Victor doesn’t want to be there; later he admits that he doesn’t really know the other two guys, but was just in it for some quick bucks.

In any case, there’s the inevitable hurdles of inquisitive callers–both in person, and on the phone. This type of movie works best when every bit of ordinary life–a delivery, the ringing phone–is full of meaning. One divisive bit is Gene selling his car to meet the hoods demands; there’s the small complication that the net cash is short; Gene owed on it.

Or did he? That’s apparently a ruse the two domineering creeps foist on Victor to up their share. “Of all the cheap, low-down, lousy, double-crossing…!!” True enough, man. Then Gene gets sneaky–he’s got the advantage of knowing what’s in every nook and cranny–and almost cuts one of them in half with a huge pair of scissors. Then the weakling actually pulls his gun on the sharpie who retaliates.

Finally, (50 minutes in) they leave the house–with Gene as hostage; they’ve actually got a plausible idea. Shake down Gene’s apparently wealthy dad for a couple hundred Gs. Anyway, the house setting was getting stale, so the change is welcome. But this is where the Jack Webb-like police presence chimes in.

What’s clever, though, is that the bad guy’s car is wired into the police band; so, we don’t need a voice over to hear the dispatcher, etc. The other cool thing is that they’re going to know right away if Doris has called the cops. Then there’s a spike of tension when the dispatcher calls out a nearly identical crime.

Since the goons are gone, Doris can afford to at least let her neighbor-friend in on the deal. When the miscreants are tooling around in the desert with Gene, the rich dad kidnapping idea comes up. It’s such a no-brainer, that Victor calls them “a couple of chrome-plated jerks!” for overlooking the obvious.

They, however, find a reason to call Doris a “tomato.” Shortly thereafter, the narrator jumps in with both feet and the kitchen sink. Thankfully, TV is used to spice up the info; news of a similar case’s nasty outcome for those criminals perks up our perpetrators’ ears. The boss goes into town to get a different car.

The punk kid and Gene overcome the other goon, but the boss returns before they can escape. The kid gets shot. Anyway, pops gets on the line with the boss to discuss the money drop. This time the cops are able to trace the call; the law is rolling, converging on the phone booth.

This is a good sequence–a lot of action, no narration. The ensuing shoot- out is partly shown, and partly just heard by Doris, who’s still on the line with Gene. That’s original, and draws out the scene, in effect multiplying it’s impact. Gene’s cool. Bad guys lose–the end.

A fine beginning, good built-up, and crackling ending. But a big chunk of this movie kind of wanders off; maybe it’s not so much the narration stuff as the slowed pacing just before the ending, and some needless scenes stuffed in. If this were ten minutes shorter it would be much tighter and more memorable.

The acting wasn’t at all bad–the three criminals, in particular, had distinct motives and personalities. Gene was earnest enough, but kind of a cipher; Doris, on the other hand, showed a great deal of nuance. She added quite a bit of authenticity; her role made the key domestic aspect of the plot flow as well as it did.

Despite its flaws, The Night Holds Terror manages to entertain.

Once A Thief, 1965, 9/10

********* 9.0

The ex-con-trying-to-go-straight plot, the protagonist here is unfairly fingered for a Chinatown murder, and then gets roped into one last heist job by his hood brother. That’s Eddie Pedak (Alain Delon) with wife Kristine and daughter Kathy (Anne-Margaret and Tammy Locke), brother Walter (Jack Palance) and his muscle James Sargatanas (John David Chandler) and Luke (Zekial Marko). Putting the screws to Eddie are Inspectors Vida and Kane (Van Heflin and Steve Mitchell). The deal is that Vida thinks Eddie shot him once (the shooter was masked) on an earlier job involving Eddie and Walter.

We see Walter and the creepy James emerge from their Imperial to do some nefarious business with Eddie. Palance’s voice is so right-on mafia- gravelly that we can almost overlook that nothing about him seems Italian. “Brothers ars supposed to help each other!” he insists, “I bring you to this country.” But Eddie insists he’s “retired.” The pinch is worth a million, with $50k up front; still, Eddie says no dice.

Despite Inspector Vida eager to get Eddie down for the murder, the victim’s husband, having himself seen the killer close up, cannot identify Eddie. So Eddie walks. Now, however, he’s got a grudge against Vida in particular–and I suppose–the law in general. Some nice domestic stuff at the Pedak’s, along with “Honey, what are we going to use for money!”; spliced into Vida at police headquarters.

At the unemployment office, he sees that Luke is down for the murder. Then he finds out that his employer fired him already. Hmm, isn’t Eddie about ripe for a quick score? Anyway, Vida is watching him. That night, Eddie comes home drunk, only to find his brother and the goons holding the fort. Eddie beats up the hapless Luke.

But, finding his wife in a slinky outfit slinging drinks in a dive, he whacks her (nobody seems to care), and seeing Walter lurking around, immediately says “I’m in.” It’s good that it took an extra kitchen sink to convince him–this is old-time film noir territory. He’s so bitter “It’s everybody’s fault!” But on-task, so to speak, busily studying the ‘layout.’

The crew meet in the backroom of a Chinese funeral parlor. Amazingly, the Asian proprietor speaks Italian. Walter gives Eddie his old gun. Vida, meanwhile, sees Eddie’s Model A in the police lot (it was stolen, and isn’t really Eddie’s). More interestingly, Eddie actually worries about Walter’s future; big brother plans to escape back to Italy after the big job.

Vida is right there waiting for him at home. Oddly, the cop reveals that he knows Eddie had been framed for the Chinatown murder (by Walter, no less). Ironically, he almost seems proud of being a criminal; after Kristine shames him for going in on the heist, he gives a big smile and says “Isn’t that what thieves do?”

Then, at the last-minute meeting with the other criminals, he confronts Walter with Vida’s revelation. Walter get the point across that the million-dollar heist is “all that counts” (nice hierarchy of values there). Onto the heist site. Certainly an appropriately dingy woe-begone industrial hell. Looks like they’re gonna do some blasting. They create a distraction to get the guards’ attention.

The plan includes a rather ingenious telephone tap, so the guards, who think they’ve summoned help, really just talk to James. They get the wrong kind of help in the form of pretend cops, James and Eddie. All of this stuff is taking much too long. The stacked pallets against the ghostly warehouses makes for superb atmosphere, but it seems as though we have to hear every bit of crunched gravel and watch for every endangered bug on the premises.

C’mon, let’s blow some stuff up! Finally, the plastic explosive’s on the safe; on the down side, they didn’t really secure the security guards well enough. One of them gets to a phone, but our criminals know they’ve already jiggered with that. The real surprise is that James kills the Asian guy, “one less split” is the rationale. As a result, now it’s just Eddie and Walter with the goods. They stow it cleverly by driving their small getaway van into a semi’s larger van.

Kristine takes a call from Eddie to meet him at the docks–but she refuses. Eddie is soon down there anyway. Back at the target site, Vida is correct this time that the Pedaks were in on it. Kristine does show down at the dock after all, but she’s completely beside herself–Kathy’s been kidnapped. He “promises” to fix it.

Getting back home like a flash, he comes into a macabre scene: Walter, nearly dead, propped up in a chair, with a note pinned to him–“Eddie wait love S [that is, Sargatanas].” Walter stirs a bit, then collapses, dead as a rock. Kristine, too, is collapsed on the dock, still stunned. Eddie gets a call from James, who is, of course, the only one freaky enough to have taken the kid. She gets on the phone with daddy.

But James cautions daddy “You’re gonna have to sweat a bit” before Eddie has a chance to get her back. Well, the cops have honed in on Eddie’s car, so he takes Walter’s. He goes to Vida’s, and fills him in; he asks the cop for help. For his part, Vida gets Eddie to admit that he was after all the punk who shot him. Adversaries for years, they have built respect and trust, and make a deal. Vida agrees to act as go-between to get the kid back.

Meanwhile, Kristine, absolutely impatient, calls the cops, getting Kane (because Vido is busy backing up Eddie). That’s going to make for a slam-bang denouement. At least Kathy is freed; but all the Pedaks are in danger now, as the loot is still in the rig near to mom and daughter. The cops arrive just as Kathy is reunited with mom. Vida watches Eddie lead James to the truck.

Vida, not knowing that there’s other cops on the scene, pursues James as well. Now Kristine chases after Kathy, who Kane uses to pinpoint the truck. I’m thinking two of the three Pedak’s are not going to make it. Now, Luke gets it, and Eddie’s winged. Eddie and James wrestle under a truck, with Vida closing in. James gets it–thank god–with his own gun. Walking up to Vida with the now-empty gun, Eddie says “I fixed it.”

Well, unfortunately, because Kane doesn’t know the score, he shoots Eddie. We get a brilliant, but terrible shot from Eddie’s dying eyes, as Kathy, thinking it’s all still just a game, covers them up with the palm of her hand–a black screen. Vida gives Kristine a searching, tragic look.

Great ending for a very successful, and very late film noir. Stealthily, the game motif, from Kathy’s point of view, is underlying many of the heavy scenes. Never once does the kid realize that she and her parents are in danger; the hoods focus on her, and weirdly play along with her delusion.That’s a great device that makes so many scenes more anxious than if a bunch of numbskulls were just trying to off each other. Another highlight is the variety of relationships explored. Kathy’s relations with everyone are funsy no matter what the actual intent of the adults around her; it’s as though even the punks have to respect her innocence.

But Eddie’s relationships are all twisted up–hs loves Kristine, but mistreats her. He spends most of the time hating Vida, but he can count on him at the end. The deal with Walter is the most complex of all. They don’t trust each other, but even though neither of them can give the other what they need, they do patch things up, and they do have each other.

The cast is full of all sorts of antagonistic characters, some of whom, as noted, switch things up quite a bit. Ann Margaret has probably the most difficult role, similar in some respects to the role she had in The Cincinnati Kid (also from 1965). She’s trying to have a normal life with chaos all around her.

At the other end of humanity lies James, as thorough a scum-bag (very much a Christopher Walken type) as ever amassed that svelte brand of cruelty in a film character.

This is a very entertaining, atmospheric noir with excellent characters. Only the drawn-out heist scene mars the overall effect.

Murder Is My Beat, 1955.

******+ 6.5

Barbara Peyton and Paul Langton star in this late noir. She’s singer Eden Lane, accused of killing her boyfriend, Frank Dean (Roy Gordon). Langton is Detective Ray Patrick, who, after Eden’s conviction, escorts her on the train that’s headed to the welcome wagon at the women’s prison. With a device that’s seen action in other crime mysteries, she claims to have seen the supposed dead man. The corpse itself had been burned beyond recognition–could the dead man be someone else?

Well, we’re going to find out. Ray buys Eden’s story, and the two of them go in search of the supposed victim. That incurs the wrath of police Capt. Pete Rawley (Robert Shayne). Also in the wings are Patsy (Tracey Roberts), Abbott (also Roy Gordon) and his wife Beatrice (Selena Royle), and Miss Sparrow (Kate McKenna).

Rawley drives into a motor court and sneaks up on one of the cottages. It’s Ray that he jumps; obviously this is foreshadowing, after the fact of Ray’s going rogue with Eden. “We’re going back [to L.A. police headquarters] together, or I’m not going back either!” Exclaims Rawley.

So to pick up the story from the beginning, we pick up the action right after the Dean ‘killing.’ We see a figurine that was used as a weapon; the victim, when struck, fell into the fireplace, and was burnt beyond recognition.

Mrs. Sparrow fills them in about Eden. So Ray heads to the club where she works, The Spotlight. “I’ll bat the questions, you just field ’em” he tells the bartender. That conversation sends Ray to Patsy, who’s a bit evasive. He wants to take her ‘for a ride.’ Not to headquarters, but to her place. He looks through everything…the trash can yields a note for a bus ticket. Only now she comes up with Frank Dean’s name.

In fact, Eden must’ve know that she’d be tailed, and got off the bus about halfway to S.F. At Merced, Ray finds a gas station guy who tells him that Eden had come by to hire a car. She’s headed East for a mountain cabin. When he gets in, he takes in the cozy scene, telling her that there’s “no rush.”

Eden certainly beguiles Ray, who’s literally slogged through a blizzard to find her at her mountain retreat. Well, he’s supposed to. Once he settles in with her, they discuss the case. He doesn’t want her to incrimate herself, but keeps the chit-chat business-like at first.

They can’t sleep, neither could I, if, like Ray I slept with my tie on. Oddly, although she admits hitting the guy, but she didn’t know that he was dead. He struggles with the supposedly closed case: “there was a loose end to this Dean case that nagged at me.” Back in L.A., we’re spared the details of the trial. Rawley tells him what he thinks; he could care less about her.

Anyway, Ray’s detailed to accompany her on the train–ultimately to the prison. They discuss the case again. At a stop she sees Frank on the platform. He doesn’t believe her, of course. But “I remember that train ride as long as I live…because I began to doubt [her guilt].” He realizes that, if she’s right, she’s obviously innocent of killing Frank.

Determined to see if they can really find Frank, Ray very quickly decides that they jump off the train when it has to slow for a bridge. He says “for his own sake” he’s going to give their ‘investigation’ a week; after which he’ll treat her as an escaped prisoner if nothing turns up. Driving around in the wayside town, he sees Patsy.

She goes into a hotel; with the naivety common in that era, the clerk gives him Patsy’s room number. She goes up there and rummages through her stuff: whoa! What’s this? A secret compartment in her suitcase loaded with cash. Later, at the motel with Eden, he tells her about the money.

Coincidentally, this joint is Patsy’s home town. I can’t understand why he takes the money. Meanwhile, showing another bit of folksy trust never to be seen again, the motel owner let’s Ray use his car. He stops in at Abbott’s porcelain factory to buy a figurine (the same as the one in the motel lobby, and, not coincidentally, also the same as the murder weapon).

He hides in a closet there, coming out at night to do… what? He’s seen by an employee; they fight briefly, and he scoots away. He expects to find a picture of Frank on the business calendar he swipes, but Eden says no dice. He can’t figure out how Patsy figures into it; Eden has already figured into Ray’s love life, though.

Meaning, that there’s no more ‘limit’ on his suspension of disbelief–he ain’t going to turn her in. He admits to himself that now they could both wind up in prison. But, what’s this? She’s skipped out. Uh–oh, he finds Rawley there instead.

Now what? Well, we’ve segued back to the opening scene, and go from that point. Ray tries to negotiate with Rawley. Incredibly, his boss/captor gives him 24 hours to continue the hunt for Frank. Not only that, he agrees to help Ray! So they go looking for Patsy. If they’re both policemen, why don’t they just march into her hotel and find her? Well, instead, they hide outside and wait for her to leave.

She goes into a church. When the service is over, they go back to her room, only to find her dead. Then they go to the Abbott’s; they’re the folks who run the ceramic plant. Rawley says that Patsy had been blackmailing the Abbott’s, and accuses him of killing Patsy. When Abbott’s wife comes in, the cops leave; yet they overhear the couple arguing about Patsy.

Eden gave herself up. Why? They summon Mrs. Sparrow, as she’s the only one available to identify Frank. Their theory is that Abbot is Dean. He’d framed Eden by staging his own death. The actual corpse was a blackmailer (Patsy’s boyfriend Mike); she was killed for blackmailing Abbott/Dean about Mike.

Abbott deduces that his wife instigated the whole thing. She slips out and kills herself by jumping off the speeding train. That, supposedly ties it all up. Except for the next and last scene at city hall where Eden and Ray, now both in the clear, fix to tie up their own knot. With Rawley as best man. The end.

This is watchable, but as a story, it’s just not very plausible. If Ray is simply a guy who’s attracted to Eden, ok, we can buy his overlooking her legal issues. But he’s not only a cop, he’s charged with conveying her to prison, and turns rebel anyway. To compound this near-impossibility, his boss plays along, pretty much going rogue himself.

If this had all occur at the remote mountain cabin, this all might’ve been at least logistically possible. But, no, the rogue-cop pose plays out in broad daylight, in everyday life; as if it’s the Old West. In the initial scene, Pete does realize that he’s sticking his neck out by basically throwing-in with Ray, but once we’re past that point, he and Ray act like Holmes and Watson.

On the other hand, the foreshadowing device does grab us right off the bat. The viewer is completely in the dark until near the end that Abbott and Dean are the same guy. That’s pretty clever, but it does make the long build-up with the Abbotts into more of a distraction; the payoff comes a bit late.

Up to the time that Ray and Eden ‘escape’ from the train, this is a pretty good mystery. Then the believability suffers just as the pacing slows; the church scene is entirely superfluous, and it’s absurd that Eden turns herself in. The whole blackmail thing is way too complex to unravel; and Ray helps himself to some of it for no apparent reason.

The business with the figurine is worked to death, somewhat like the tiresome postcard prop from the same year’s British crime mystery, Postmarked For Danger. That movie also features an initially unidentifiable, burnt body.

Langton and Payton have pretty good chemistry–we can see that they would fall for each other. The supporting cast, Shayne excepted, is fairly bland. A little better than Postmarked For Danger, but monster truck racing beats both by quite a bit.

While The City Sleeps, 1955.

******* 7.0

“He’s the killer! Stop him Stop him!” That would be the ‘lipstick killer’ Robert Manners (John Barrymore, Jr.). Barrymore is just one of the star-studded cast in Fritz Lang’s late film noir. Vincent Price’s Walter Kyne has become the heir of his newspaper mogul father Amos Kyne (Robert Warwick). Due to Walter’s somewhat eccentric personality (isn’t every Price character eccentric?) he makes a game-like competition for the top job among employees Mark Lovering (George Sanders), Jon Day Griffth (Thomas Mitchell), Harry Kritzer (James Craig), and Mildred Donner (Ida Lupino).

Nancy Liggett (Sally Forrest) is Lovering’s secretary. Rhonda Fleming plays Price’s wife Dorothy Kyne, whom Harry’s having an affair with. Mark and Mildred are having their own fun. Howard Duff is Lieutenant Kaufman. TV reporter Edward Mobley (Dana Andrews) works with his friend Griffith on the case.

What’s afoot is hardly a game–the goal of the competition is finding ‘the lipstick killer’ (Apparently, there was a 1945-46 real life ‘lipstick killer’ in Chicago). Unlike the real killer who was obsessed with the Bible, this guy is more aptly hooked on comic books…Thanks to Eddie Muller, host of Noir Alley on TCM for that background info.

First thing we see suspicious guy Robert looking for victims: he’s got #1 taken care of before the credits role. “Ask mother” reads the lipstick clue written on the wall. Next thing, Ed is chatting up Nancy, as the murder report comes in. Amos is in a hospital bed (in the office, nonetheless), fretting over the story. He kicks off after that one scene. Walter shows up quickly, trying to fit into dad’s shoes, wearing all black. Apparently, he was known as that “idiot son.”

No question that Walter is a power-junkie; the fact that he’s let on that he was undervalued by pops means that he wants to demonstrate that he’s his own man. I’ll go with the “weak-spined blue-eyed fish” description, according to Griffith. Anyway, at Walter’s place, Harry and Dorothy flirt around. More on the level, at Nancy’s, so do she and Ed. The purpose of showing this bit was to see a hand jigger her door, as the killer does to gain entry; but, actually it was Ed who did it.

That leads to his deduction on the killer’s modus operandi. We learn also that Ed and Nancy are engaged. Another tidbit gleaned from Noir Alley was that Andrews was unfortunately engaged to the bottle, in this and other scenes. At police headquarters, Ed meets with Lieutenant Kaufman. They’ve got a suspect, a janitor, who had found the dead woman. They can see he couldn’t have done it. But, somewhat gratuitously, we get a comic book lecture.

What Ed and Kaufman figure is that the killer’s young and ‘a momma’s boy’ Aha! Look here: there’s a scurrilous comic book (actually girlie-slasher-pulp stuff) at the next murder scene. Mark thinks he’s cracked the case, but we already know the janitor didn’t do it. Dead end. Ed is on the air, taunting the killer; Robert is watching in his pjs, drooling, but surprised that the cops know so much about him. Now, we see his mom looking in on him.

This is Psycho territory stuff, as Robert remembers his mom’s conversation with a neighbor when he was younger “He’s exactly like a little girl, isn’t he?!” Looks like he’s ready to show her what’s what, but he settles for breakfast. Across town, Ed and Nancy hang out, but he warns her that she might be targeted because of her association with the paper.

Another bar scene: Mildred and Ed. He knows that Mark sent her to spy on him, maybe to make sure he doesn’t give up the details of their botched investigation. The other set of unfaithfuls, Dorothy and Harry, are getting cozy. The killer is pretty nervy, going after Dorothy at Harry’s place. Strangely, Nancy is conveniently available just across the hall.

Lipstick guy scopes out the bar–looking a bit like a sawed-off Marlon Brando from The Wild One. At this point, Ed is ready to junk everything for Mildred. Are all of these guys jerks? Not only that, but the entire office knows what’s going on. The office politics is almost as brutal as in Glenngary Glen Ross.

The incredible juxtaposition of Walter practicing putting in shorts and black knee socks vs. Dorothy working out in a fetching swim suit is great campy stuff. As he’s lotioning her up, the phone rings; she tells him “I’ll get it, your hands are oily.” More like his whole personality–ironically, it was Harry calling her. Back to Ed and Nancy trying to ‘explain’ his Mildred date.

Kaufman thankfully shows up to get us back to the murders. No one in these bar scenes needs another drink. The lipstick guy is everywhere. Ed speculates that the killer will strike in the daytime; that is, target Nancy, even though she has police protection. Sure enough he comes calling. But, Ed has fixed her door to prevent entry. He goes across the hall to get Dorothy; he gets in, but she escapes.

Now we get a cool foot chase. Great use here of subway stations, tracks, trains, tunnels, and manholes to build the noir sense of confinement in an industrial maze. This is really the only noirish sequence in the movie, but it’s very effective. There’s a clever use of both jarring noises and complete silence, a great counterpart to the usual light and shadow contrast. At any rate, Robert’s caught.

There’s got to be one more bar scene. The point is to bring everyone together to shake things out: Ed gives Walter his comeuppance, and then gets Nancy back. Things tie up pretty neat: Ed marries Nancy, he gets the story credit, and Jon Day gets the plum job.

The movie’s taken some heat for treating a dark topic with a somewhat breezy tone–that’s true to some extent. A non-horror film featuring Vincent Price runs the risk of mangling the tone (i.e., the putting/tanning scene). Actually he’s not on screen nearly as much as Andrews. It might’ve been better to see more of the killer’s character. I don’t mean Barrymore slithering around looking for victims–that was well-done, but more scenes with him at home with his mother would add to the creepiness.

As it is, While the City Sleeps is pretty much a relationship-heavy melodrama with a crime backdrop. It’s actually fairly entertaining, but uneven and lacking focus. The worst thing is that most of the characters aren’t very interesting, or very likeable. The dialogue is very snappy, and things flow well; it just doesn’t add up to much.

The Killing, 1956.

*********9.0

Sterling Hayden’s Shabby Suitcase

Very entertaining late film noir. There’s plenty of good performances, snappy pacing and dialogue, and some very effective cinematography. Elisha Cook and Marie Windsor are especially memorable. The Killing has the palpable noir atmosphere of troubled characters in a hostile world. I just wish that Kubrick hadn’t chopped up his exposition with the non-linear plot.

I didn’t mind the narrator, but the effect of the multiple points-of-view is a lot of repetitious scenes. The start of the crucial seventh race was shown three times, and the fight scene twice. The result just looks like poor editing. It might be interesting to see different characters’ perspectives on the same incidents, but we’re not really getting that, other than some different camera angles. It would’ve been better to use foreshadowing. Maybe start with the gunman in the parking lot, and the actual shooting of the horse; then start at the beginning. Better yet, start with the haunting scene of the dying Elisha Cook returning home to a frosty reception, then go back to Stirling Hayden plotting the heist.

The plot distracts from the characters and their interaction. Each of the criminals has something hanging over his head; the cop hunted by the loan shark, the bartender trying to care for his invalid wife, Cook’s character George dealing with his loose-cannon wife (Marie Windsor’s Sherry), Johnny (Hayden) wanting to make his wife happy...As another reviewer pointed out, there’s an abiding existential fear. The heist is anticipated as a desperate throw of the dice that simultaneously has the power to ruin or uplift. George is by far the most compromised, and therefore the most anxious.

His wife’s betrayal ultimately dooms them all; she’s represents the superficial hedonism that underlies the criminal mentality. Her counterpoint is Colleen Gray’s Fay, Johnny’s innocent, devoted wife. She almost doesn’t belong with this host of unsavory characters. Maurice (Kola Kwarain) is just a plain odd-ball, but he’s supposed to be a distraction, and, somewhat comically, he succeeds very well. His bit stands as a juxtaposition to the overall dismal backdrop.

We see Sherry and Val planning their double-crossing in a creepy scene with their faces illuminated by the open top of the lampshade, while the rest of the space is shrouded in darkness. The actual heist plotting is in another dimly lit room, closing the guys into a confined space. Easily the best scene is at George’s place after he barely escapes from the shootout. Noir merges into straight horror, as his bullet-riddled body stumbles in, zombie-like, ghastly in the darkness. His alienation is complete, Sherry treating him like an intruding cockroach. In his only assertive act, he manages to shoot her before collapsing.

Realistically, the heist doesn’t come off without a lot of distractions: the gunman is distracted by the well-meaning lot attendant, the cop by a lady pleading for help, Johnny is delayed by traffic, etc. The role of chance is inescapable; by trying to fit the world into a scheme that can be controlled, they leave themselves wide-open. The ending most vividly points this out. That a silly little dog can trigger a chain reaction leading to Johnny and Fay’s fortune disappearing--in a whirlwind on a runway--dramatically caps off a story about the futility of gambling on a sure-thing.

It’s entirely fitting that the heist targets a gambling enterprise. There’s a bit too much focusing on that overloaded suitcase though. Why doesn’t Johnny get a decent one with good locks? And why argue with the airline staff about taking it as a carry-on? He could have put the loot into two or more smaller bags, at least one of which would’ve been ok to take into the cabin. All he succeeds in doing is drawing attention to himself and the huge suitcase.

Uniquely for this genre, the very end is quiet; Johnny just gives up. He realizes he’s lost his gamble with fate; it’s not worth it to sacrifice himself, and endanger Fay needlessly. It’s a tragic moment, but at least it’s not the pathetic end the others face. Thanks to the quick pacing, we’re spared the mundane details explaining how the police tracked Johnny to the airport. It’s interesting that no ’outsiders’ (police or citizens) get seriously hurt. It’s as though the criminals remain in their own world; try as they might, they can’t break out.

Odds Against Tomorrow, 1959.

********** 10

"They’re Not Gonna Junk Me Like An Old Car"

From the dizzying opening credits to the cataclysmic ending, Odds Against Tomorrow never skips a beat. A great character study, crime drama, social statement, and film noir; it’s studded with brilliant performances. Harry Belafonte, Robert Ryan, and Ed Begley are at their best. The cinematography flickers between the gritty cramped New York City apartments and the quiet riverbank scenes in upstate New York.

Among the three main characters, Ryan’s Earle is the most overtly troubled. He never relaxes. And, except for some artificial snuggling with Lorry (Shelley Winters), he’s always angry, always uncomfortable. If there’s no actual tension, he manufactures it; his racism gives him a reason to mistrust and denigrate Belafonte’s Johnny.

But Johnny makes his own mess too. Unlike Earle and Dave (Begley) he actually has a legitimate career of sorts. He appears to be middle class, with fancy clothes and a cool car, but his gambling compulsion has dragged him down. He’s lost his wife and custody of his child, spending his time warding off the gangster Bacco (Will Kuluva). He can’t even enjoy a day at an amusement part with his daughter without the gangsters’ intrusion.

Begley’s Dave, on the other hand, has pretty much resigned himself to the criminal life. He maintains an outward joviality, but he has to gamble as well--coming up with the bank heist to make ends meet for all three of them. The heist itself is just part of the gamble; the tension between Johnny and Earle makes it an impossible long-shot.

One of the quieter interludes tells us what we need to know about these guys. The day of the heist, after they meet down at the river, they separate; we see each of them alone for a bit. Johnny is transfixed by a doll floating amongst other debris; like the blighted relationship with his daughter, it’s seen better days. Earle’s way of dealing with innocence--the rabbit appearing out of nowhere--is to kill it. It’s as though existence only has meaning if he destroys something. He wrecks the world he can’t fit into.

The heist sequence returns us to a claustrophobic, night-time world, playing out in the literal confines of a cold, damp alley adjacent to the targeted bank. It looked like it was going to come off. Then Earle sabotages the plan by not giving Johnny the car keys. Maybe Earle is self-destructive enough to deliberately throw a wrench into the well-conceived plan. The simple explanation is that he doesn’t trust Johnny. His hatred wins out over his fear of being caught or killed.

His character has become so irrational that it seems any sort of escape would lead to a showdown with Johnny. As it is, he makes it easier for the police to find them by trying to shoot it out with Johnny. The fuel tank explosion, a device used effectively in earlier noir films, is fittingly spectacular. But despite the physical violence of the explosion and fire, it’s devoid of tragic meaning; the firemen dealing with the corpses "can’t tell the difference" between Johnny and Earle. They’re merely dead criminals.

There’s no loose ends or wasted scenes in Odds Against Tomorrow. With a few domestic scenes patched into the overall pattern of hopelessness, there’s just enough motivation to sustain these guys. They speak and act with desperation, against a hip jazz background that amplifies every jarring step they take.

This is a movie you could watch many times, and come away with something new each time. Highly recommended.

Ransom, 1956.

********* 9.0

Kidnappers Left in The Dark

A different sort of noir/ crime drama. Glenn Ford’s and Donna Reed’s (Dave and Edith Stannard’s) son is kidnapped from school. It takes a while (:15 minutes) for the plot to get out of low gear, but Dave’s take charge personality is already amped up over business projects. The slow pace seems odd, and continues for a bit even after the realization that their boy Andy (Bobby Clark) is missing.

It works because of Ford’s and Reed’s convincing ability to show their character’s personalities with subtlety and nuance. Robert Keith is the very no-nonsense police Chief Backett. Both parents are extremely emotional, of course, but in very distinct ways--she’s crying, sometimes hysterical, he’s jumpy and threatening.

Unexpectedly, a reporter shows up. He’s obviously working an angle on the case, nonchalant, in his element. The boy’s teacher is another busybody, acting as though the crisis is all about her. Finally, Dave gets a call from the kidnappers. The ransom amount is set; also the police have a fix on the caller’s location. But when they arrive at the phone booth, there’s only a half-smoked cigarette lying on the shelf.

Dave arranges to get the money, but the reporter Charlie (Leslie Nielsen) lurks about, even though Chief Beckett warns him off. "Let’s have it, Times Chronicle!" Dave quizzes Charlie, the self-appointed expert on criminal behavior. More thoughtfully he asks the Chief "If I do pay the random, what are the odds I’ll get my boy back?"

Interestingly, then, the kidnapping has become a sort of abstract game, as Dave, his brother Al (Ainslie Pryor), the Chief, and Charlie compute the odds of ’success’. Not that it doesn’t make sense to consider how best to proceed. "That’s gambling!" says his brother, of Dave’s reluctance to pay. Charlie isn’t so bad after all, as he shames the curious onlookers leering at the Stannard’s home.

Something that only became possible in the ’50s, it’s decided to use TV to communicate with the kidnappers. We see the ’hideout’ vaguely, a darkened room, and, from behind, a figure in a chair, watching Dave on TV. Dave, looking horrible, threatens the kidnappers with the rather clever ploy of using the ransom money as a reward for the boy’s safe return. The cash is temptingly mounded-up on-screen in front of him. The problem that I see is that there’s no reason for the kidnappers to come forward with the boy, as there’s nothing in it for them (unless they have a falling out, which is another gamble; or a change of heart, a possibility...).

As Charlie ruefully predicted, the media frenzy is as grotesque as it is banal. Even Al tries to change his Dave’s mind, as ’public opinion’ is against Dave. Not to mention, the Sheriff (Robert Burton) starts grumbling. He feels Dave is meddling in police business, which Dave probably is, but, it’s fairly clear that the sheriff is also concerned with his reputation. Edith has been literally out of the picture--she’s right that Dave shouldn’t have refused the ransom without consulting her--she even accused him of not really loving their son.

Suddenly, the chief shows up with what they think is evidence: a bloody shirt like the one the boy was wearing. It’s weird that they think it’s an important discovery...it could’ve belonged to any similarly-aged boy in the community. In a very affecting scene, Dave collapses in the arms of his butler Jesse (Juano Hernandez).

Somewhat miraculously, the boy simply shows up at the house. Fittingly, the reunion occurs adjacent to the play house the boy had been messing before the kidnapping. Jesse sort of ties up the ending with an appropriately touching biblical reference.

Ransom! Has been taken to task for not showing the criminals. Other than one phone call, in which we only hear Dave’s voice, and the obscure scene where he/they remain hidden, that’s it. The emphasis is on the parents, and the community’s reactions. That means that Ransom! pretty much slides out of film noir territory, remaining a straight mystery/thriller. And it does that very well. Other than the slightly lengthy beginning scenes, there’s a very careful, thoughtful portrayal of a family in severe emotional and psychological crisis.

Edith is ignored for a large part of the movie. Since we’re not dealing with the criminals’ characters, it would seem that there should be plenty of scene time for both parents, not just Dave. The reporter and police chief are more involved that the kid’s mom. On the one hand, this could be an example of the passive social and domestic role allotted to women at the time. At the same time, Edith directly addressed this issue with her strong statement that she’s been wronged by being shunted to the side. That’s a good counterpoint.

Ransom! is a very effective character study and suspenseful noir/ crime drama .

I Died A Thousand Times. 1955.

******** 8.0

"He’s Going to Die Anyway--He’d Rather Have It Like This!"

Pretty good ’scenic resort’ noir. The color is used to great effect for the vistas, as well the swanky mid-century interiors. As much as I liked Bogart the High Sierra original, Palance gives a commanding performance as Earle.

Lee Marvin character stands out as a disgruntled underling to Palance. Chaney plays a convincing real-life monster as the crime boss; Winters does an authentically loyal ’dame’. Perry Lopez’s Mendoza is a major player as well. Unfortunately, the other Hispanic character is a stereotypical happy-go-lucky servant kid.

A bigger deal was the Velma subplot. Does she have to be handicapped for Palance to fall in love with her? It’s already established that his character sympathizes with the vulnerable (the little dog, the Mexican boy). It’s good that she doesn’t want to marry him; he rescues her, in a sense, by paying for her operation, but he doesn’t own her. She’s still "grandpa’s little girl." Still he tries to control Velma as well as Marie (Winters).

Chaney’s unexpected death creates a complication. The pace picks up from that point; suddenly, it’s survival that’s at stake, not the money. The chase scene really pays off. The action winds to its climax on tbe slick, snowy mountain road, Palance’s car barely making the curves. There’s no stunts here, the two motorcycle cops are highly-skilled riders getting the most out of their bikes in unsafe conditions.

Palance’s last stand works as well as Bogart’s in the ’41 version. One thing the majestic landscape can do is show the literal isolation that the wanted man faces. Very enjoyable later noir. This could’ve been a bit better with more Lee Marvin and Lon Chaney, and a little less of the homespun subplots.

The Big Combo, 1955.

**********10

"You Don’t Know Me; I’m Very Stupid!"

A fast-paced crime thriller; with a great combination of noir motifs, both visual and verbal. Richard Conte’s Mr. Brown is a superb criminal type. Ruthless, yet superficially classy; controlling his minions and girlfriend like so many toys. And when he gets tired of his toys, he throws them out. Unlike his misanthropic muscle guys, Susan (Jean Wallace) wants to get away from him, to the point of attempting suicide.

Brown’s rat-a-tat-tat speech mirrors his bullying, relentless personality. Especially memorable is a scene right after Susan gets out of the hospital, when he attacks her by demanding to know what she was thinking, lets her know she’s wearing the wrong thing, and then brushes her off completely with "We’ll talk about love some other time." The mystery of his missing wife Alicia (Helen Walker) resolves itself as we learn she has faked insanity to get away from him. That Lt. Diamond (Cornell Wilde) has figured her fate to have been the victim of an exotic murder-at-sea plot keeps suspense brewing. That the actual victim was an ex-boss anticipates the subsequent murder of McClure (Brian Donlevy), another guy he worked for.

One of many fogged-in scenes, McClure’s murder forms part of the storm of violence as the movie accelerates to its end. There’s a war of light and shadow throughout: dimly lit, smoky, foggy alleys, walls, buildings, and staircases; lampshades making faces into ghostly masks, spotlights and headlights piercing the dark lo pinpoint the human roaches seeking escape.

All of this masterful expressionist stuff plays against a sunny spacious tourist’s panorama of the city at the movie’s beginning. The music adds a jarring dimension with jazzy bits both enhancing and mocking the gritty atmosphere. There’s a haunting scene with Diamond playing the piano--as he tries to get Susan to open up about Brown--skillfully showing the blending of the sophisticated with the sordid.

As we’re hustled to the denouement, Brown shows the ultimate touch of his clever brutality by leaving a ’gift’ for his guys--sticks of dynamite. Despite the quintessential noir pessimism that The Big Combo draws so successfully, at least Diamond and Susan are able to leave the final ugly scene; scarred, but intact and together. They’ve both been victimized by Brown; they’re indeed as righteous as Brown said in his earlier disparaging assessment of Diamond.

Stylistically, this is noir at its best. Considering that it comes after the genre peaked in the late ’40s/early ’50s, it’s surprising that the overall feel, not to mention the carefully worked-out details showed such fidelity to earlier noir films. Actually, owing perhaps to a limited budget that necessitated some stock footage, early street scenes look to be nearly ten years out of date. Not a big deal, but for a history and automotive geek like me, I can’t help noticing the ’40s cars (the ’47-’48 Ford police cars for example), with nothing newer. Later on, it’s definitely 1955.

The Big Combo is not to be missed for the fan of film noir.

Murder By Contract, 1958

******** 8.5

How does one interview for a contract killing job? Well, we find out. Actually, Mr. Moon (Michael Granger) isn’t so tough of an interviewer; he only lasts about ten minutes, thanks to our prospective murderer Claude (Vince Edwards). Claude has a cunning plan: if the house he wants costs x, and a killing is worth y, at some point y = x. The more bodies, the less time it takes to get Claude’s dream house.

After a few quick jobs, Claude goes out west, and meets his contacts Marc (Philip Pine) and George (Hershel Bernardi). They think he’s weird; hey, you know, all these ‘contracts’ are “oddballs.” I would hope they are. George and Marc just can’t figure him “you’ve got to feel!” Not, exactly, Claude’s either “hot” or “cold.” A stove and fridge combo?

This is intensely psychological; usually, at least in movies, crimes just happen. Here they’re explored, examined, even savored. Since Claude doesn’t much value life, he’s not too socially aware. It’s funny, especially with the hip score as an accent, how his handlers can’t handle him.

Finally they get to scoping out the mark. It’s a woman, Billie Williams (Caprice Toriel). Now, all of a sudden, Claude’s rattled. “I don’t like women.” In that case, why have second thoughts? Anyway, he goes into action, interviewing a disgruntled former employee of Billie’s–a drunk painter. He poses as an insurance adjuster to get info on the hit.

He’s got Billie staked out. Actually, he’s wired a remote control device to her TV. It doesn’t do the trick because she’s got a whiz-bang remote, so the blast is harmlessly disipated. Marc want him to follow up with a gun. Well, he doesn’t want to use anything “illegal.” Here’s the plan: a bow and arrow.

George practices with it (why him?). Next stop–a sporting goods store. Man, there’s a machine gun for $124.95! “A warehouse full of murder” says Claude. He’s sort of right. George is supposed to use the bow and arrow in such a way that Claude can shoot her with the rifle.

Billie wants a woman as a bodyguard. Anyway, the three bad guys are in the brush overlooking her house. Billie’s new ‘maid’ arrives. From the hillside…a flaming arrow! That will get someone’s attention. Yes, that would be the maid. She’s the one that gets it. They think it was Billie, but the body was covered when it was taken away. The paper confirms that it was Billie.

“It’s hard for me to believe that you turned out to be human.” Really, how’s that? Claude has a prostitute come around. Aha! She spills the beans; it was the policewoman who took the bullet. Now Claude grills her about the news. She does have inside contacts, so she knows what the score is. The question is–will she get out alive? Barely.

The guys know the real deal “the contract’s a jinx!” Looks like they’re taking him for a ride. They say they need to hide him for a couple days… translation: he finishes the job, or they finish him. He collapses; of course it’s a ruse. Marc is overwhelmed and disarmed. Claude yells for George to help him “finish the contract.”

But he goes in search of him with a pipe–a scream is heard (scratch George). Next scene it’s just Claude; he phones the big boss. He still holds out for twice the going rate (because the hit is a woman). Next stop, the county building, to look at the blueprints of Billie’s property.

Sure enough, that night he scoots through a culvert and then into a chimney clean-out to gain inside access. Knocking out the bodyguard, he assumes that role when Billie comes into the room. He’s nervy enough to ask her about the case. He’s all set to strangle her, but can’t do it.

She realizes her predicament, and talks him out of doing it–she’ll give him a chance to slip away. He’s spotted outside anyway, and is blasted and gassed in the same tunnel he used to get in. The end.

What an unusual crime movie! Almost a thriller, in the sense that the protagonist is not just a criminal, but a psychopath. George and Marc make a strange stand-in for everymen, but they’re all we’ve got. The tone is consistently disturbing–both menacing and jarring. There’s no wasted scenes; if anything, the plot moves too quickly.

What we’re left to ponder is what amounts to a moral dilemma for Claude. Despite the fact that that he tries with great earnestness to kill Billie twice, he agonizes over it when he’s given one more shot at it. That proves his undoing. The question is why the hesitation? It’s also interesting that Billie would be okay if he just bugs out.

It might be said that they understand each other, perhaps an unusual circumstance for both of them–more certainly for Claude. That slight moment of redemption for Claude makes the police ambush seem cruel. Not so much because he’s killed; but that he has to suffer. His calculated indifference is shattered, but letting his guard down proves fatal.

Sort of a cult-noir. Highly effective, and very entertaining.

Private Property, 1960.

********** 10

An unusual film noir, of the home-invasion type. Only a handful of characters: Ann Carylyle (Kate Manx), and two invasive hoods, Duke and Boots (Corrie Allen and Warren Oates), plus Ed (Jerome Cowan), who gives the guys a ride from the site of a robbery (of Jules Maitland), and Roger (Robert Wark), Ann’s less than stellar husband. The premise isn’t just criminal, but also semi-psycho, in that getting the hapless Boots ‘fixed up with a woman’ provides motivation for the home-invasion. As we see, it’s really more of a home ‘insinuation.’

Ed starts out telling Boots that Ann is too good for him “you can’t mix the birds with the snakes.” None of that high-and-mighty stuff prevents Boots from threatening Ed with a switchblade when he tries to get rid of them. The hoods get situated at the vacant place next door to Ann. Now they’re literally voyeurs, peeking at her through the shrubbery. “She’s got on a blue bathing cap…and that’s all, Daddy!”

Roger pulls up. He seems about a generation older than she. Meanwhile, the nuts are spending their time watching the couple, “he’s nowhere!” is their assessment of Roger. That, however, puts Duke and Boots somewhere below nowhere. At least they’re looking after basic needs by robbing a grocery store. It’s clever how the two sets of people alternate scenes. Duke has a decently devious idea of stealing Ann’s Corvette–or so it seems–they really only want to smell her afterglow in it. Pretty disgusting.

Things are just slightly more creative inside, as Ann tells Roger that she has a new negligee, but, strangely, he puts her off. Duke finally gets the nerve to get Ann’s attention, by posing as a gardener; she’s fixed that way she says. Later, he sees an opportune moment, as she’s fussing with bug spray. That gets him working for her, pulling weeds; then, into the pool. “I guess I’m, what you call it? a physical type.” He slightly overdoes the charm angle, though. He’s an excellent manipulator, as though she’s personally responsible for the inequities of civilization.

How sleazy can someone get? He even let’s on that he’s hanging out next door. If that’s not enough, he gives Boots a bad time about her too. Roger comes home, but he acts as though she’s made of kyrptonite. When Duke says that she won’t be able to sleep that night, he’s probably right. Anyway, Roger’s going to be out of town the next day; so Duke let’s himself in.

She doesn’t seem to mind getting continually surprised. Next thing we know, she’s going to cook for both of them. Boots has to pretend to be Ed; Duke has a pseudonym too. “there’s not an ounce of fat on you!” is one of their more tactful comments. She slightly recoils, at least, when Duke asks if she loves her husband. While they’re drinking her beer, she seems to dither over what to change into.

Soon enough, they got her playing records, and dancing. There’s now a growth of three or four empty Buds and a Pabst on the piano. She’s smooching with Duke. She more or less comes back to her senses when the music ends, and actually wants them to go. “One for the road?” asks Duke. He’s not just referring to another drink. “I can’t” she pleads, as she’s now backed into her bedroom, on the bed. He carries her back to the vacant house.

Just as she’s about to give in, Boots steps in, very awkwardly. Now, he’s just a nut with a switchblade, looming over her; he knows he messed up, anyway. Time for Ann to split. But guess who’s waiting for her? Now, it’s Duke’s turn to go pitifully nuts, and he starts manhandling her. Boots pries him off of her, and both guys tumble into the pool, fighting with the knife. Duke manages to drown/stab Boots. Roger gets back in time to pin down Duke, so that Ann can get their gun and shoot Duke. Blam! Blam! And blam!

This was much better than I expected. It builds, ever so steadily, towards the reckless, tragic end. Though Duke and Boots are definitely jerks, they get so wound up that they spin completely out of control. Roger is a decent guy–and quite successful, but really seems out of his depth emotionally with his wife. Ann’s the most complex character, as she has security, but no excitement. It’s hard to say how much of her behavior stems from gullibility or just desperation.

Even before the killings her world is turned upside down. Each character has something missing in their lives; the movie shows the degree to which they can cope with their feelings. The two hoods are pretty much a lost cause; they’re thinking no further ahead than the next thrill. And, when, with Ann, they seemingly get exactly what the want, they don’t know what to do with themselves. Highly recommended for its portrayal of psychological drama and creepy criminals.

Twenty Plus Two, 1961.

******* 7.0

Rather Like Being a Ghoul

Interesting late film noir, let down by some plot and casting flaws. David Janssen plays the quasi-detective character Tom Adler with an affected booziness; he’s not imposing enough to make this Marlon Brando-mumbling-in-a-slick-suit thing work. I do like that his job is nebulous; he seems to have to explain himself repeatedly. It’s as though, in true noir fashion, he’s really not sure who or what he is.

As others have noted, Dina Merrill looks positively middle-aged when she’s supposed to be just twenty in the Tokyo flashback. Thankfully, Agnes Moorehead, William Demarest, and Jacques Aubuchon inject Twenty Plus Two with enough life to sustain interest.

I like how the reviewer pierrotlunaire0 pointed out the plot holes. I can sort of see Tom falling for Linda all over again, especially as she keeps throwing herself at him. But it’s just too convenient that she’s also friends with Nikki, his other lost love. Since we never see the ’grown-up’ picture that her mom shows him, we don’t know that he then suspects that Nikki is Doris. At least that part of the mystery works well.

Then there’s Brad Dexter’s Leroy, who is the actual murderer, going free and easy because he framed Doris. The cabin-in-the-sticks denouement is stagey; but for all of its exposition, it still doesn’t add up. How is it that Dane, of all people, doesn’t recognize Doris/Nikki until she tells him who she is? Why did he have to kill his buddy anyway? Doris had fled, knowing she had shot Lane. She’s still in hot water, and, given the mores of the times (in 1948, even in 1961), her pregnancy makes it worse for her.

Lane would have to fear repercussions from her wealthy family; but she’d probably be so relieved when she discovered that she hadn’t killed anyone, that nothing more would happen. On the other hand, given that Dexter’s character recreates himself as Lane, and became a celebrity, he should’ve at least been under suspicion as a rapist, if not a murderer.

Well, if we can squint our perception of the plot, there are those larger-than-life performances from the supporting cast to entertain us. The flashback sequence is masterfully set up by its ascending webs of smoke signalling Adler’s reverie. Thanks to the black and white filming, we not so far from the smoky, boozy, hat-wearing late 40s noir golden age.

The editing is pretty good too; we’re not allowed to get too comfortable before sweeping into another scene. The exceptions would be the interlude with Agnes Moorehead, which was so good it even made Jannsen look important, the cool ’interview’ Tom has with the down-and-out bum in the bar, and the scene in the cabin, which dragged a bit. I’d have been happier with Doris and Tom’s scene under the tree giving us a little more, and then letting the shoot-out happen quickly.

The music was irritating at times. Kind of like the nervous demeanor Janssen displays when he’s not mumbling. Like others, I wonder what the title refers to. The better noir movies have abrupt, dangerous sounding titles that hint at what we’re going to see. Other than a presumption that Doris is about twenty years old when she’s in Tokyo, there’s no twenty, or two, or twenty-two of anything here.

Still, a fun movie, with a good premise and some fine scenes.

Harper, 1966.

********* 9.0

This is more or less an original noir, not a nostalgic one.

If Paul Newman had been of the previous generation, he might wrll have been a noir regular, slong with Mitchum, Bogart, Robert Ryan, and Dan Duryea. Who better, then, to bring the genre back in the ’60s. Suave, cool, disdainful, and not all that good of a good guy, he’s the tough guy you want on your side. Doesn’t hurt that Harper (Newman) has Lauren Bacall, Janet Leigh, Pamela Tiffin, Julie Harris, Shelley Winters, and Robert Wagner in the mix, for good or ill.

The music is jumpy, a nonchalant, but hardly carefree. The color’s rather muted. James Dean-like, Harper rolls in a Porsche Speedster, by this time, just an old foreign car. He slides up to Elaine’ Sampson’s (Bacall’s) mansion. "my husband’s disappeared..." she says. More like she wants to find a stray cat, which, given the womanizing she says he’s been up to, is an apt way to put it. Meanwhile, Harper’s wife Susan (Leigh), is getting on with their divorce.

Out by Elaine’s pool, he finds Allan (Wagner), Sampon’s pilot, and the dancing Miranda (Tiffin), Elaine’s stepdaughter. The girl thinks that her stepmom is either faking her disability or did it intentionally. Harper and Allan go up to see Sampson’s attorney Albert (Arthur Hill). Apparently, the dweebish attorney has a thing for Miranda. The key thing here is that he hires Harper to find Mr. Sampson.

Eventually, Miranda, Allan, and Harper check out the missing guy’s swanky but lurid suite at his favorite hotel (we’ve gone from nitty gritty to the Aquarian Age). Next stop for Harper,: the baroque club where Faye (Winters) works. A mod group plays to a swingin’ crowd. The restrooms are labeled "guys" and "dolls." They split for the hotel bar; Miranda and Allan show up with some new intel on Sampson. Something about a fortune in bonds.

In Fayes’s house he finds a stash of cash. But he’s ambushed by Faye’s husband Dwight Troy (Robert Webber), pulling a gun on Harper, calling his wife a "bag of worms". That’s pretty bad, but he also calls Harper "old stick"; maybe even worse. Onto another hip swingin’ club, where he meets Betty (Harris). He asks her about Sampson. "all drunks look alike" is all she has to say. The bouncer is after him, but fortunately, Allan intervenes. Back to the Faye’s place.

A truck enters the property--Harper and Allan have discovered that it’s not delivering girl scout cookies, so they try and stop it. Doesn’t work. At least he gets away in one piece and he’s soon meeting up with Elaine. "Your husband keeps bad company" he tells her. There’s a ton of ransom money that Albert’s fussing with. Troy seems to be the person of interest now. He takes Miranda on a fast drive; what does he think of her? "you have...nearly everything that could develop into almost anything." They park by a new-agey establishment. "Have you cone seeking salvation?" intones Claude (Strother Martin) master of this whatever place.

From here on out, I’ll just summarize the plot; fight, guy shot, fight, guy shot, etc.; heightened intensity, a pattern if violence, not really repetitious. Cool scene with flunky Felix (Eugene Inglesias) falling off some railing in the midst of an uber noirish industrial maze. Also, a nice chase scene in which Betty wipes out going off a cliff in Harper’s Porsche. Newman almost gets it again and again, but survives, only to realize that his trusty buddy Albert’s a party to a conspiracy involving Betty, Alan, and Troy. For old times sake, Albert lets Harper walk. \

This does almost everything right. The plot, though complex, is coherent; the motivation for the murder is clear; and, most significantly, any of a half-dozen people could’ve been the murderer. In fact, there’s a conspiracy.

The real strength of Harper is the acting. Needlesss to say, Newman is excellent; he’s in almost every scene. though ut could be said that he dominates the movie, he doesnt distract from the other players. Everyone’s interesting, and they’re all pretty much a people of interest in Sampson’s death.

That these people are types is beside the point: in film noir, they characters are ususally types; in the better ones, such as this, thy have nuances that give us something to think about and to remember. Bacall’s chsrscter, for example, seems up to something from the begnning; likewise Tiffin’s.

Remarkably, no one really seems to care a bit that Sampson’s been murdered. It’s the who, why, when that matters. I can’t even see why Elaine reports him as missing--except that going by the expected response is a safe move for her. But why hire harper in the first place?

Maybe she does think that he’s been kidnapped, or, that a fake kidnapping can net her some of her husband’s bogus ransom money. We could say the same for Miranda, Betty,albet and others. the only thing that didn’t quite add up is Harper’s apparent familiarity with Elaine; and, then, why is she faking the disability? Maybe I missed something there, because these are both loose ends.

Otherwise though, this is an incredibly entertaining film noir. The era is suitibly reflected in the go-go style dance scenes, hairstyles, and furnishings, just bordering on the emergent new-age stuff. Logically it’s the 20-ish Miranda with ties to both the mid- and late-sixties vibes.

Great fun as drama, a very wellmade film.

Kiss Me Deadly, 1955.

*********+ 9.5

In some ways, this noir his ideally suited to the theme of this book. Kiss Me Deadly shoots late noir into the sort of hyper noir style associated with the modern noirish films of David Lynch and Quentin Tarantino. In addition, and rather bizarrely, there’s a science-fiction component.

Literally from detective pulp fiction, our protagonist is Mike Hammer (Ralph Meeker), private eye. Cloris Leachman plays the damsel in distress, Christina. Of course, there’s assorted thugs, cops, and nightclub performers. Thanks to Eddie Muller’s introdction on TCM, we learn that this adaptation of Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer character was a send-up, and also explains why seemingly everyone on-screen behaves in "dastardly" fashion.

Christina is a fugitive from an asylum. "You’re one of those self-indulgent males" she observes of Mike. Two guys in a black Cadillac waylay them. She’s tortured (thankfully off-screen). He was knocked-out. They’re both set up like dummies win his car and pushed off a cliff. Mike comes to in a hospital. The crime commission interviews him when he gets out. As a P.I. specializing in divorce cases, making him a "bedroom dick" (hmm, now that’s descriptive!).

He learns that Christine didn’t survive the crash. then Mike finds out from his mechanic that a couple of hoods are looking for him. We see the likely suspects soon enough. The Lieutenant (Wesley Addy) comes to tell him that his P.I. license is revoked. While in search of Ray Diker (Mort Marshall), he’s tailed; Mike dispatches one guy quickly, but has to deal with his buddy--scratch hood #2. Ray is all cut up, and furtively directs Mike to the next lead to Christina’s history.

He talks to her apartment manager (Marjorie Bennett). A mover lets Mike in on Lily (Gaby Rodgers ), roommate of the dead girl; she says "those men came," as though that explains everything. He gets a message from his antagonists--a veiled threat. His car is rigged to explode...but Nick (Nick Dennis) disarms the bomb. Mike’s secretary, Velda (Maxine Cooper) has two more leads, Carmen (Fortunio Bonanova) and Harvey (Strother Martin).

Soon, Mike’s in search of Carl (Paul Stewart), but we meet Cheesecake (Leigh Snowden) and Friday (Marian Carr). Judging by the glare of the guys, Mike’s more or less treated like a party crasher at this villa’s pool party. Carl seems to be a big operator; he pretty much admits he’s behind all the mayhem. Predictably, he tries to buy Mike off.

At the Hillcrest hotel, Mike finds Carmen. From that guy, Mike learns that one of the victims had a "secret" i.e., the focus of this mystery. Lily tells him she’s been threatened, so he takes her with him. Nick is murdered right in his garage by the old lowering-the jack-on-the-guy-under-the-car bit. From Velda there’s still more stuff: a Dr. Soberin (Albert Dekker), and more about that elusive thing, the "whatsit."

Time to check in at a nightclub "double bourbon, leave the bottle" says Mike, grieving Nick. Not a good idea, as Velda’s been abducted. Who’s this waiting at home for him? He’s smacked by a couple of hoods from a few fights ago. He tries to escape, but they overwhelm him down at a beachfront place. He comes to--tied up on a bed. Big shot Carl arrives: the gist of his taunts is that Velda will be ok, if...Mike lets on some cryptic nonsense that Christina supposedly gave to him.

Now we get the they-don’t-know-I’m-untied deception trick; works great, as Carl ends up dead, and Mike escapes. Back home, Lily let’s him in. He tries to decipher Christina’s letter. Something rings a bell; but her corpse says nothing and the coroner is stubborn. But tht guy responds to to some physical encouragement (err, intimidation). From him, Mike gets a locker key found on the body. Applying the same tactics on a gym employee, he finds a locker containing a strongbox.

Which, thanks to eerie music, we figure must be something significant. Indeed, it contains some luminous stuff. Radioactive luminous stuff. The Lieutenant wants the "whatsit;" Mike wants Velda. While they’re bargaining, they see that Mike has a radiation burn. Well, Mike learns that this whole situation is indeed a by-product of Los Alamos nuclear activity. They let Mike go; do the cops know where Velda is?

Time for some culture: an art gallery. Its proprietor might just know her whereabouts; but he zonks out. It’s meds from the elusive Soberin. Well, here he is at the beach house with Lily and the nuclear box. Soberin’s bombastic, arrogant: but Lily’s not willing to get nothing out of all this--she shoots him. His dying words are warnings about the box. Mike, returning to this scene, figures out Lily’s angle. Maybe she knows where Velda is? Whatever: now she shoots Mike. And maybe Soberin wasn’t so dumb after all. Or she truly is a Pandora. She opens the box, and viola! basically gets fried by the radiation. Luckily, Mike is only wounded; he finds Velda, and they both escape the place before it explodes. The end.

Thanks again to Eddie Muller, we learn that this isn’t the only ending to Kiss Me Deadly. The longer version had a gigantic, nuclear-enhanced critter of some sort. As strange as that sounds, we’re pretty much ready for that leap by the end; the radiation level shown here (and its consequences, according to ’50s sci-fi lore) could’ve just about brought Godzilla into action.

Despite being shorted somewhat of sci-fi spectaculars, Kiss Me Deadly is a magnificent film noir; and a great satire of the genre as well. Even the title twists the romantic attraction’s association with danger, both as a theme as well as a title (i.e., Beware, My Lovely). the performances are fine all around; the types (Nick, and Mike, for that matter) are interpreted so artfully that they work both as crime mystery/noir and as nearly surreal.

Same thing with the action--it’s over the top, but just so. Plenty of fights, abductions, victimizations, the car crash, and, finally, the existential danger of the radioactive material. What’s clear from all this--the entire purpose of the hoods is never revealed. They wan the "whatsit" but what are they going to do with it? Kill themselves? I remember an (almost forgettable) sci-fi movie from the same era that worked along these lines; the criminals knew that the radioactive stuff that they highjacked was valuable, but that’s about it. What they got for their trouble was radiation sickness and death.

Despite Mike’s unscrupulous nature towards just about anybody in his way, he shows he’s considerate with some folks here. In fact, he’s out-and-out decieved by Lily, basically taking her in; only to discover, almost too late, that she’s working against him. Certainly he’s brusque to Christina, but definitely takes up for her too. He and Velda make a good couple; shows her complte respect throughout. It’s just those "dastardly" creeps he has to deal with.

I can’t think how this could’ve been much better. the script makes for taut pacing, the plot’s complicated, but it’s supposed to be; as noted the actig fits in very well, and the remise is an intriguing variation on the invaluable object quest. The atmosphere was as strange as everthing else: suave gritty; Mike Hammer is no 007, we like out heroes cool but with a shady flipside.

Great movie, not to be missed.

Next Chapter: Crime and Mystery Skulks About