TCM Pick for May: Film Noir

•May 15, 2012 • 3 Comments

As I always say, better late than really, really late. (Well, I don’t always say that. Actually, what I usually say is, “HURRY UP! We’re going to be LATE!” But I digress.) 

I’d intended to share my TCM film noir pick of the month long before now, but with the Seven Shadows series a couple of weeks back, combined with ongoing family preparations for dance recitals, graduations and such – well, let’s just say I’m a bit off schedule. Still, I was determined to get this post up today . . . especially since my pick airs in, as of this writing, less than eight hours! It’s Gun Crazy, starring Peggy Cummins and John Dahl – and it’s a good one!

The plot:

Married couple Annie Laurie Starr (Cummins) and Bart Tare (Dahl) share a fondness for firearms – but they take this affection to a whole ‘nother level when they embark on a crime spree.

Laurie works her magic while Bart polishes his guns. Ahem.

Favorite scene:

My favorite scene offers us a peek inside Laurie and Bart’s married life, after they’ve run out of cash and options – all except for one option, that is: Laurie’s proposition that they put their gun aptitude to good use (or bad use, as the case may be) by engaging in some not-so-legal activities. They’re living in a crummy, run-down hotel, and as the scene opens, Laurie emerges from the bathroom, complaining that there’s no more hot water. Bart – always easygoing and just happy to be polishing his prized gun collection – responds, “Well, it’s a roof, anyway.” Bart reminds his bride of a $40 a week job he can get, assuring her that they can “get by on that,” and Laurie replies, “Yeah, Maybe you can, but not me. It’s too slow, Bart. I wanna do a little living.” Bart offers to hock his collection, but that’s not enough for Laurie. “Bart, I want things. A lot of things. Big things. I don’t wanna be afraid of life or anything else. I want a guy with spirit and guts. A guy who can laugh at anything, who’ll do anything. A guy who can kick over the traces and win the world for me.” And what does Bart want? I don’t know what he does want, but he makes it clear what he doesn’t: “I don’t wanna look in that mirror and see nothing but a stickup man staring back at me.” As Bart prepares to leave, Laurie tells him to kiss her goodbye – because she won’t be there when he gets back. She reclines on the bed, parts her lips seductively, lowers her lids . . . and the next thing we know, Bart has his gun pointed at some hapless clerk at the Traveler’s Aid.

Favorite quote:

“You’ll never make big money. You’re a two-bit guy. No guts. Nothing. I want action.” Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins)

Other stuff:

  • Gun Crazy was based on a short story by MacKinlay Kantor that appeared in the Saturday Evening Post in 1940. The film’s original title was Deadly is the Female.

    Peggy Cummins as the original Amber.

  • In 1946, following a nationwide search, one of Hollywood’s most coveted roles – the lead in 20th Century Fox’s Forever Amber – was given to pint-sized Peggy Cummins, who was born in North Wales and grew up just outside Dublin, Ireland. But after just a couple of months of shooting, Fox studio head Darryl Zanuck called a halt to filming – he later told Photoplay magazine: “We realized that Peggy could act the role, but could never look it. We had spent two years on research for the perfection of the production, but we also wanted perfection in casting. So we decided to start all over again.” Zanuck dismissed Cummins from the role, replacing her with Linda Darnell. Along with Cummins, Zanuck also dumped Vincent Price and Reginald Gardiner, as well as the director, John Stahl. (The film was lambasted by critics – years later, Cummins admitted, “When I saw it, of course, I just felt relieved.”)
  • Before the release of Gun Crazy, John Rosenfield of the Dallas Morning News expressed doubt over the wholesome Cummins’ ability to portray the corrupt Annie Laurie Starr. “We haven’t seen this movie with its siren, but we have to snicker anyhow. Can makeup and direction erase what appears to be an innate gentility?” Rosenfield queried. “Or will [Cummins] look like Margaret O’Brien wearing Cleopatra’s bloomers to a kiddy party?” (I’d say that Cummins more than proved that she was up to the task.)

    Part of the bank heist scene that was shot in one take.

  • The film features an acclaimed one-take shot of a bank robbery, during which Laurie and Bart drive to the bank, distract and then knock out a cop, and, finally, make their getaway. Director Joseph H. Lewis had the actors improvise their dialogue during the scene.
  • John Dall debuted on Broadway in the 1944 Moss Hart-directed hit Dear Ruth. The play ran for 680 performances. When the play was made into a movie in 1947, Dall’s role was played by William Holden. Dall was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his film debut in The Corn is Green. (He lost to James Dunn for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.)
  • Lewis directed several other noirs, including My Name is Julia Ross (1944), The Undercover Man (1949), and one of my personal favorites, The Big Combo (1955).
  • For more on Peggy Cummins as Annie Laurie Starr, check out this great post at The Sheila Variations blog, which appeared as part of last year’s For the Love of Film (Noir) Blogathon.

Don’t miss Gun Crazy, airing May 15th (that’s today!) at 8 p.m. (Eastern) on TCM! You only owe it to yourself.

TCM Pick for May: Pre-Code

•May 9, 2012 • 6 Comments

What’s that phrase . . . an embarrassment of riches? Well, that’s what TCM is offering this month in the realm of pre-Code. I counted a whopping 28 pre-Code features airing in May – which certainly made it none too easy for me to select my pick of the month. It was a mighty struggle, but I finally narrowed it down to one: Midnight Mary (1933), starring Loretta Young, Ricardo Cortez, Una Merkel and Franchot Tone. You can catch it on TCM in the wee hours on May 15th.

The plot:

Mary Martin (Loretta Young), on trial for murder, looks back over her life as she awaits the jury’s verdict. (It’s a succinct description, I’ll grant you, but believe me, there’s a whole lot more going on than this single line would indicate – poverty, larceny, abuse, deception, sacrifice, and providence – all in the span of 74 minutes.)

The end of innocence.

Favorite scene:

My favorite scene is actually a series of vignettes that depict Mary’s early life. In one, we see her at age 16, sitting on an apartment house stoop with her best friend, Bunny (Una Merkel), when a car pulls up. Inside are two men, Leo Darcy (Ricardo Cortez) and Angelo Ricci (Warren Hymer), who whistle and wink at the girls. At first Mary and Bunny dissolve into a fit of childlike giggles, but when the men beckon, the girls rise to their feet and head toward the car, Mary in the lead with a purposeful expression on her face. That looks tells us she may not know exactly what she’s getting herself into, but she’s determined to find out. The next shot shows the car barreling down the street – Bunny is passed out in the front seat, and Mary’s long, bare legs are actually draped over the outside of the vehicle. When we’re allowed a peek inside, we see Mary practically prone on the back seat, only partially visible as Leo holds her close and moves in for a kiss. (Good heavens!) Next, we see Leo on a set of steps below street level, talking to Mary, who is standing on the sidewalk above. Leo reaches through the wrought iron gate separating them, caresses Mary’s leg and says, “Come on, baby – what’re you afraid of?” With little hesitation, Mary descends the stairs (symbolism, anyone?) and goes with Leo inside the apartment below. And in the final scene, we see Mary and Bunny in a café, both with half-empty mugs of beer in front of them, as Mary sobs on her crossed arms (like a child again) and Bunny consoles her, saying: “Oh, what’s the diff, Mary – a girl’s gotta live, ain’t she?”

Favorite quote:

“Listen, baby – you can walk out on me any time you want to. I’ll never go after you. But you’ll always come back.” Leo Darcy (Ricardo Cortez)

Other stuff:

  • The film was originally called Lady of the Night, but apparently that title went a bit too far, even for the pre-Code era!

    William Wellman directs Loretta Young and Franchot Tone.

  • The film’s director was William Wellman, who also directed Loretta Young in The Hatchet Man (1932), Heroes for Sale (1933), and The Call of the Wild (1935). It was during filming of the latter feature that Young had an affair with co-star Clark Gable, which resulted in the birth of her daughter, Judy. Young later reported to the press that she’d adopted Judy, who didn’t learn the truth about her parentage until many years later.
  • Reportedly, Jean Harlow and Clark Gable were supposed to star in Midnight Mary, but they turned it down and the roles were rewritten for Loretta Young and Ricardo Cortez.
  • In an early scene, Mary and Bunny are around the age of nine. The parts were played by Loretta Young and Una Merkel – the actresses were filmed at an angle from above to make them look smaller.
  • Watch for this goof: At the start of the film, when we first see Loretta Young’s character in the courtroom, she’s reading an issue of Cosmopolitan magazine. But in the close-up shot a few seconds later, she’s perusing a Cosmo with an entirely different cover.
  • Adapted from a story by Anita Loos, the screenplay for the film was written by Gene Markey and Kathryn Scola, who also collaborated on the scripts that same year for Baby Face, starring Barbara Stanwyck, and Female,starring Ruth Chatterton. Markey was married four times – his first three wives were famous actresses: Joan Bennett, Hedy Lamarr, and Myrna Loy. While married to Lamarr, he adopted her son, James, who became known as James Lamarr Markey. The boy was later adopted by Lamarr’s third husband, John Loder, and his name was changed to James Lamarr Loder. At Markey’s wedding to Myrna Loy, director John Huston gave the bride away.

    Warren Hymer (seen here in a 1935 feature) in his heyday.

  • Ricardo Cortez’s sidekick in the film, Angelo Ricci, was played by Warren Hymer, a familiar face in numerous films of the 1930s – in fact, he appeared in nearly 100 pictures throughout the decade. Unfortunately, he also had a drinking problem – in the early 1940s, when he showed up drunk for a picture he was making for Columbia, studio chief Harry Cohn ordered Hymer off the lot. According to one version of the story, Hymer confronted Cohn and during their heated argument, the actor emphasized his point by urinating on Cohn’s desk. Apparently, Hymer picked the wrong desk on which to make his statement – after the incident, he was practically blackballed in Hollywood; for the rest of his career, he was seen only in minor roles or unbilled bit parts. He died in 1948 at the age of 42.
  • Midnight Mary was one of 12 movies in which Una Merkel appeared in 1933 – some of her other films that year were Bombshell, with Jean Harlow, and Busby Berkeley’s 42nd Street. Merkel started her career five years earlier, in The Wind, as the stand-in for Lillian Gish. Speaking of Bombshell, an actress by the name of Martha Sleeper played the minor role of Jean Harlow’s hairdresser in the film. Sleeper can also be seen in Midnight Mary, as the wife of Franchot Tone.

Don’t miss Midnight Mary on May 15th (technically, the early morning hours of May 16th). You only owe it to yourself.

Seven Shadows – Day Seven: The Asphalt Jungle

•May 7, 2012 • 4 Comments

Our final movie for Seven Shadows Week is The Asphalt Jungle (1950), arguably one of the best caper movies ever made, and a first-rate feature from the film noir era. The story of a jewelry heist that is intricately planned and executed by a motley crew of small-time crooks, Asphalt Jungle is based on a novel by W.R. Burnett, who also wrote Little Caesar and High Sierra. (For the review of this feature, pop over to Andrew’s site, and also click here to check out one of my first posts at Shadows and Satin, which takes a look at the oh-so-fascinating characters that populate the film.)

For my last Seven Shadows entry, I decided to offer up a variety of trivia surrounding the film and its performers. I hope you enjoy this mish-mash of this and that, and I thank each and every one of you who took the time to join Andrew and me during Seven Shadows Week. It’s been an awesome experience! (I offer special and most heartfelt appreciation to Andrew, for conceiving such a great idea for this blog event, and for inviting me to tag along for the ride!) Here goes . . .

James Whitmore as Gus — loyal to his friends and a cat-lover. How could you not root for him?

James Whitmore played Gus, the hunchbacked diner owner who is hired as the getaway driver. Whitmore graduated from Yale University in 1944, and debuted on screen in the 1949 noir The Undercover Man, starring Glenn Ford. He was married for seven years, from 1972 to 1979, to actress Audra Lindley, who is best known as Mrs. Roper on the popular 1980s television show Three’s Company.

Director John Huston was advised by on-set safecracking experts for the film’s robbery sequence. Huston was nominated for an Academy Award for best director, and Huston and screenwriter Ben Maddow were nominated for best screenplay. Joseph L. Mankiewicz won for All About Eve in both categories. (Mankiewicz, incidentally, is the great-uncle of Turner Classic Movies personality Ben Mankiewicz.)

Reportedly, John Huston originally intended the role of Angela Phinlay for actress Lola Albright, who was seen in Champion (1949) with Kirk Douglas. The year that The Asphalt Jungle was released, Albright was seen in a total of six features, including The Killer That Stalked New York, as the sister of the smallpox-carrying Evelyn Keyes. Among the starlets who reportedly tested for the role of Angela was Georgia Holt, the mother of Cher.

Marilyn was outstanding as Angela Phinlay.

The role of Angela Phinlay, of course, ultimately went to Marilyn Monroe. When Monroe landed the part, her acting coach, Natasha Lytess, quit her job as head drama coach with Columbia Studios, so that she could coach Monroe from the sidelines of the Asphalt Jungle set. At the end of each take, Monroe would look to Lytess for approval. At the end of Monroe’s first scene in the film, when you see her briefly glance to the left as she walks off camera, she is reportedly looking at Lytess.

Miklos Rozsa wrote the score for the film, but it was used sparsely. The music was only heard for about six minutes in the entire film, playing under the opening credits and up to the point where Dix Handley enters Gus’s diner, and not again until the end of the film, as Dix approaches his boyhood farm in Kentucky.

Barry Kelley, who played the crooked cop Lt. Ditrich, was once described as “a big, burly guy whom you could hardly have avoided if you’ve been going to movies at all lately.” Born in Chicago, Kelley was educated at the city’s Goodman School of Theatre. His film debut was in the 1948 film noir Force of Evil, and during the next seven years, he appeared in an additional 10 noirs, including The Undercover Man (1949), 711 Ocean Drive (1950), Southside 1-1000 (1950), and New York Confidential (1955).

Brad Dexter was only in a couple of scenes, but he left a lasting impression.

A total of four men die in the film. The first is Bob Brannon, played by Brad Dexter. Ten years later, Dexter portrayed Harry Luck in The Magnificent Seven – he was the first character to die in that film as well. Dexter developed a close friendship with his Magnificent Seven co-star Yul Brynner and served as best man at Brynner’s wedding, which was held on the set of the movie. Dexter was born Boris Milanovich in the mining town of Goldfield, Nevada. After appearing in 30 films over a span of three decades, he all but abandoned his acting carer, earning a measure of fame as the producer of such features as Little Fauss and Big Halsy (1970), starring Robert Redford, and Lady Sings the Blues (1972), a box-office smash starring Diana Ross as singer Billie Holiday.

Louis Calhern, who played the double-crossing attorney Alonzo Emmerich, was married four times – all actresses. His first marriage, which lasted eight months, was to Ilka Chase, who played Lisa Vale in Now, Voyager. His third wife was Natalie Schafer, best known to today’s audiences as Lovie Howell on Gilligan’s Island. They were married from 1933 to 1942. Calhern was in Tokyo, Japan, filming The Teahouse of the August Moon in 1956 when he suffered a fatal heart attack.

Sam Jaffe offered up an award-winning performance as Doc Reidenschneider.

Sam Jaffe played Doc Reidenschneider, the mastermind behind the jewelry heist; Jaffe won the Best Actor Prize at the Venice Film Festival for his performance, and was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor (he lost to George Sanders in All About Eve). Born Shalom Jaffe in 1891, the diminutive actor was a victim of the Hollywood blacklist when his name was included in the Red Channels pamphlet on a list of performers who were sympathetic to communism. At the time, he’d just been signed to appear in The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951). Producer Julian Blaustein and director Robert Wise convinced 20th Century Fox studio head Darryl Zanuck that Jaffe was essential to the film. It was Jaffe’s last film for seven years.

Photography for The Asphalt Jungle was by Harold Rosson, who was actress Jean Harlow’s third and last husband. Rosson was nominated for an Academy Award for best black and white photography, but he lost to Robert Krasker for The Third Man.

Strother Martin, in his big-screen debut.

Actor Strother Martin made his debut in The Asphalt Jungle; he can be seen as one of the three men in the police line-up in the opening scene. Martin grew up in Indianapolis and Cloverdale, Indiana; an excellent swimmer and diver, he won the National Junior Springboard Division Championship at the age of 17, attended the University of Michigan as a member of the diving team, and served in the U.S. Navy as a swimming instructor in World War II. After he moved to California to become an actor, he worked for a time as a swimming instructor to Marion Davies and the children of Charlie Chaplin.

The IMDB states that The Asphalt Jungle also marked the film debut of Jack Warden, but try as I might, I wasn’t able to spot him. Warden was, however, the star of the 1961 TV series by the same name, which lasted for 13 episodes and focused on cases taken from the Los Angeles Police Department. (Could it be that the IMDB entry is confusing Warden with his association with the television series – or does he actually appear in the movie? If you know the answer to this question, don’t keep it to yourself – please share with the rest of the class.)

Dorothy Tree, who played Alonzo Emmerich’s wife, enjoyed a second career after leaving the big screen.

Dorothy Tree, a founding member of the Screen Actors Guild, played Alonzo Emmerich’s invalid wife, May. After a long career on stage and film, in New York and Hollywood, Tree changed her name to Dorothy Uris and embarked on a second career as a speech and voice coach at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, and teaching speech and acting at the Mannes College of Music and the Manhattan School of Music. She was the author of several books, including To Sing in English, which is still in print and used by teachers of speech and voice.

Actor Frank Cady, best known for portraying Mr. Drucker in Green Acres, played a small role in the film’s first scene, where Dix Handley is in a police line-up. After making his film debut as a farmer in Mr. Deeds Goes to Town (1936), Cady was later seen in numerous noirs, including He Walked By Night (1948), The Crooked Way (1949), Abandoned (1949), D.O.A. (1950), and Ace in the Hole (1951).

And that’s it! I hope that Seven Shadows has introduced you to some films you’re never seen, or inspired you to rediscover some old favorites. Either way, thanks again for sharing our love for noir during the last seven days!

(One more thing:  don’t forget to enter my giveaway for a copy of Film Noir: The Dark Side of the Screen by Foster Hirsch. To enter, just leave a comment after any of my Seven Shadows posts, or retweet any announcement I make about the event on Twitter. Giveaway winners will be randomly selected from all entrants and announced on May 8th.)

Seven Shadows – Day Six: GUN CRAZY by Andrew D.

•May 6, 2012 • 4 Comments

Running Time: 86 minutes
Directed By: Joseph H. Lewis
Written By: MacKinlay Kantor, Millard Kaufman
Main Cast: John Dall, Peggy Cummins, Berry Kroeger, Anabel Shaw, Harry Lewis

Third time’s the charm here at Shadows and Satin as I return for my third and final installment that will appear on this blog. Today, we take a look at a film that didn’t really come off to me as a film noir and apparently I’m not alone, as THE BOOK also makes mention of this discrepancy. However, there’s no denying that this is a great movie and one that I’m eager to tell you about.

Bart Tare (Dall) is fascinated with guns. It’s almost like a fetish he has, even stooping to breaking out the window of a hardware store when he’s a juvenile, in order to get his hands on a revolver. He’s not a killer or anything, though; in fact, he cringes at the thought of shooting any living creature and instead focuses on fixed targets and such. After the hardware store incident, Bart is sentenced to reform school for four years and after that he joins the army. When he’s a grown man, he returns to his place of birth. Bart has turned out to be a respectable gentleman, still in love with guns, but reformed due to his days in the military. Upon arriving home, his two childhood buddies offer to treat him to a night at the carnival. Bart accepts and while there, sees a female sharpshooter named Annie Laurie Starr (Cummins). When the carny challenges a member of the audience to test their skills against Laurie, Bart’s friends coax him to accept. Bart outshoots Laurie and is offered a job traveling with the carnival. Later, the two end up falling in love and breaking away from the carnival, when the carny gets a little too possessive with Laurie. The two get married and try their best to make a life for themselves, but they have no money and times are tough. What follows is a Bonnie and Clyde like crime spree, with Laurie and Bart holding up convenience stores, then later banks and payrolls.

This review shouldn’t take long as I really don’t have a lot to say. I’ve often said on my own blog that sometimes I wish I could convince myself to come to a review, simply write “I liked it because I liked it” and call it a day. Sometimes a movie just appeals to me in a way that I really can’t describe why I liked it. Gun Crazy just happened to be a film that was right up my alley and I was kicking myself afterwards for having waited twenty-eight years to see this gem. Yes, Gun Crazy was inspired by the Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker crime spree, but you know what? This movie was worlds better than the Beatty/Dunaway adaptation of those same events, at least in my opinion. John Dall was brilliant (as he was in Rope) and Peggy Cummins played the mean, little fireball to a T.

Apparently this movie inspired Jean-Luc Godard to make Breathless and you can actually really see that. The outfits that the characters wore, especially Laurie in her beret and trench coat, wielding a gun and being pulled down the street by Bart, seemed to foreshadow the French New Wave and the films of guys like Godard and Melville. This is another great example of a classic movie that you could show to someone who is ignorant to black & white cinema and refuses to watch it. I think Gun Crazy has a mass appeal and I think people who say they don’t like it are going to have to come up with some pretty convincing arguments, because it’s a hard one not to like. If I had to nitpick about anything, I’d say that it could have been a little longer. For the most part, things seemed a bit rushed and I could’ve used at least one more scene of serious suspense. But again, that’s just me finding things to gripe about and really this one is easy to love. Suffice it to say that I’m crazy about Gun Crazy!

RATING: 8/10  Well I’d say we’re 3 for 3 in “Seven Shadows Week”, as this, Mildred Pierce and Out of the Past have all exceeded my expectations. We’ll let The Asphalt Jungle be the deciding vote in determining whether this week was a success or failure on my personal tastes.

(Gun Crazy is the 216th entry in the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die book.)

Click here to visit Andrew’s site for my take on Gun Crazy, and tune in tomorrow for our seventh and final day of Seven Shadows, when our movie of the day will be The Asphalt Jungle, starring Sterling Hayden, Sam Jaffe, and Jean Hagen. Our final posts for Seven Shadows will be here and at 1001 Movies I [Apparently] MUST See Before I Die starting at 12 noon!  (Karen H.)

Seven Shadows – Day Five: OUT OF THE PAST

•May 5, 2012 • 11 Comments

Whit Sterling is about to put the literal “smackdown” on Kathie Moffat.

Today, Seven Shadows looks at one of the most awesome of awesome films noirs: Out of the Past. (For Andrew’s review of this classic, skip on over to his site, 1001 Movies I [Apparently] MUST See Before I Die.) It’s no secret that I think highly of this feature – I selected it as my April TCM film noir pick of the month, it was the subject of the first annual “GIANT” Dark Pages issue in December 2010, and I’ve seen it so many times that I long ago lost count. No matter how often I view it, though, it never fails to enthrall me with its spate of great performances, crackling dialogue, and twisty-turny-what’s-going-on plot.

It was hard to decide what to write on about this film, but I finally hit upon one of the many aspects I love about it:  Whit Sterling, played by the great Kirk Douglas. I’d thought at first that I would offer a comparison between Whit and Robert Mitchum’s character, Jeff Bailey, but it’s Whit Sterling who, for me, is the focus of every scene in which he appears, and who, despite his second male lead status, is arguably the more fascinating of the two. Here, then, I shine the spotlight on Whit Sterling – one of the baddest bad-asses you’d ever want to meet. (Or that you’d never want to meet, as the case may be).

Our introduction to Whit Sterling.

Like the film’s feature femme, Kathie Moffat (Jane Greer), we hear about Whit – described as a gambler, “a big operator” – before we meet him. He initially comes up in a conversation between Jeff Bailey and Joe Stephanos (Paul Valentine) – Joe says that Whit “used to look at me, shake his head, and wish I had brains like you.” He goes on to inform Jeff that Whit wants to see him, telling him in a way that certainly sets off alarms for us, if not Jeff: “Maybe he’s got something nice for you.” Later, when we finally do make our acquaintance with Whit, we realize that those alarms were not false.

In one of the film’s many flashbacks, Whit makes his first appearance when he hires private dick Jeff to find his girl, Kathie, who shot Whit and made off – allegedly – with 40 grand in cash. At first glance, Whit comes off as a pleasant, almost unassuming sort – frequently smiling, never raising his carefully modulated voice, praising Jeff for his intelligence and honesty. He manages to convey, nonetheless, that he’s not to be trifled with – that, perhaps, his trolley travels a little bit left of center, if you know what I mean. This impression is not given through obvious pronouncements but, instead, in minor, barely perceptible ways. For example, when Jeff’s partner, Al (Steve Brodie) opines that a “dame with a rod is like a guy with a knitting needle,” Whit gestures toward Al with his unlit ciggie. “What’s he doing here?” he asks Jeff. “I called you.” It’s a small moment, but one that makes me glad I’m not Al. Later, Jeff asks Whit, “Should I ask why you didn’t call the law?” And Whit, ever-economical with the patter, responds, “Should you?” That’s it. No explanation, not even a real answer. But Jeff gets the message.

Along with Jeff Bailey, I was holding my breath throughout this scene.

We next see Whit in another flashback, after Jeff has tracked Kathie to Mexico and fallen for her. Jeff’s in the process of packing his duds so he and Kathie can run away together when he gets a knock at the door. Standing there, with his oh-so-often-present smile, is Whit. Throughout the next couple of scenes, Whit never states that he’s there to check up on Jeff, or that he suspects Jeff of running afoul of their agreement, or that he believes that Jeff knows more about Kathie’s whereabouts than he’s revealing. But like Jeff, we are practically holding our collective breath, not knowing what Whit’s smile and jovial manner are masking – but knowing that there’s more to his sudden appearance than meets the eye.

When Whit returns to the screen later in the film, we’re back in the present day, after Jeff arrives at Whit’s sprawling Lake Tahoe estate. Whit seems genuinely pleased to see Jeff – we practically expect him to give him a hug – despite the fact that he knows full well what happened between Jeff and Kathie. (Well, knowing Kathie, he may not have known “full” well, but he certainly knew they weren’t playing tiddlywinks in the sand.) With his characteristic amiable demeanor, Whit outlines an income tax dilemma he’s experiencing, and divulges how he wants – expects – Jeff to assist him. As Jeff goes from flatly refusing the job to reluctantly realizing he has no choice but to accept, Whit maintains his jovial countenance, even as he is making cutting, snarky comments that are fairly exploding with double meaning. Soon after Whit reveals that Kathie has returned to him, he details the job that he wants Jeff to undertake, interspersing his explanation with references to Jeff’s involvement with Kathie. In one instance, Whit tells Jeff that he will meet with a woma named Meta Carson: “You’ll find her charming. She may even find you charming,” Whit says pleasantly. “I understand that women have.” And later, peering devilishly over the top of his coffee cup, he says to Jeff, “You know San Francisco, don’t you?” – knowing (again, “full well,”) that Jeff and Kathie lived in San Francisco after they fled from Mexico. It’s as if Whit is playing a game of cat and mouse – and he sure ain’t the mouse.

The after-effects of one of the best screen slaps ever.

Whit doesn’t shed his air of good humor until his final scene. It’s then that he realizes, for the first time, what kind of person Kathie really is – all the lies she has told, all the wrong she has done. And boy, does he let her have it, delivering one of the best (if not THE best) slaps I’ve ever seen in a movie. What makes it so good is that there’s no warning – for us or for Kathie – that it’s coming. Whit quietly orders Jeff from the room and softly closes the door behind him. He then turns and, without breaking his stride, walks up to Kathie with a completely expressionless face and smacks her so hard that it nearly knocks her off her feet. For the first time, we see a Whit whose emotions are not so carefully and neatly restrained, as he calls Kathie a “dirty little phony.” It’s interesting that the one act that has made him lose his cool is the realization that he’s been made a fool of: “I took you back when you were whimpering and crawling. I should have kicked your teeth in.” At this, Kathie actually takes a step back, but Whit assures her that he has dispensed of the physical punishment and plans to move on to some far more damaging: “We’ll let the law push you around. You’re going to take the rap and play along. You’re gonna make every exact move I tell you. If you don’t, I’ll kill you. And I promise you one thing – it won’t be quick. I’ll break you first. You won’t be able to answer a telephone or open a door without thinking, ‘This is it.’ And when it comes, it still won’t be quick. And it won’t be pretty. You can take your choice.” Best. Threat. Ever. Unfortunately for Whit, he didn’t get the opportunity to carry it out – he apparently underestimated Kathie, one final, fatal time.

The next time you watch Out of the Past, by all means, enjoy the Roy Webb score, appreciate the cinematography by Director of Photography Nicholas Murasca, and have fun trying to keep up with the  labyrinthine plot developments. But whatever you do, take some time to pay close attention to Kirk Douglas’s Whit Sterling.

You only owe it to yourself.

Tune in tomorrow for Day Six of Seven Shadows, when our movie of the day will be Gun Crazy, starring Peggy Cummins and John Dall.  Andrew D of 1001 Movies I (Apparently) MUST See Before I Die will have a guest review here at Shadows and Satin, and I will have a guest post at his site.  New posts will be up starting at 12 noon! 

And don’t forget to enter my giveaway for a copy of Film Noir: The Dark Side of the Screen by Foster Hirsch. To enter, just leave a comment after any of my Seven Shadows posts, or retweet any announcement I make about the event on Twitter. Giveaway winners will be randomly selected from all entrants and announced on May 8th. KH

Seven Shadows – Day Four: THE KILLERS by Andrew D.

•May 4, 2012 • 4 Comments

Running Time: 105 minutes
Directed By: Robert Siodmak
Written By: Anthony Weller, from story by Ernest Hemingway
Main Cast: Burt Lancaster, Ava Gardner, Edmond O’Brien, Albert Dekker, Sam Levene

For those of you who may be new to my writings, I want to thank you for taking the time to read this and of course, thank Karen for allowing my words to appear on her blog. Today we continue with “Seven Shadows” and take a look at a movie inspired by the writing of Ernest Hemingway – The Killers.

The film opens with two very shady men driving along at night. The headlights and their silhouettes are all we can make out. When they arrive at their destination; a small town diner, they lurk in the shadows for a bit (to establish they’re the bad guys) and then enter. It doesn’t take long for their intentions to be made clear – they plan to kill “The Swede” a.k.a. Pete Lund a.k.a. Ole Andreson (Lancaster). Apparently he eats at the diner every night, but on this night he stayed home. However, the killers find out where he lives, go to his place and riddle him with bullets. From there, the movie gets underway as life insurance investigator Jim Reardon (O’Brien) is introduced. It seems that Swede had a $2500 policy with Reardon’s company and it’s his job to track down the beneficiary. Reardon uses leads to track down and interview many of Swede’s associates, acquaintances, friends and co-workers in hopes of piecing together the puzzle of Swede’s death. The story is told in flashbacks via stories from the people that Reardon interviews, ala Citizen Kane and Reardon uncovers the story of Ole “Swede” Andreson, a boxer who had to retire from fighting due to a busted up right hand, who got mixed up with a vicious dame (Gardner), a payroll heist and a few too many sleazy characters.

I have some major bones to pick with The Killers, so let’s talk about what I liked first and get that out of the way. Well, first and foremost, the opening sequence in the diner was one of the greatest opening sequences I’ve ever seen. William Conrad and Charles McGraw (the killers) were spot on here, especially Conrad who just nailed it! He was fantastic. This film is pure film noir, no doubt about it. In fact, if you looked up the term film noir, they could easily include a still from this movie beside the definition, as it really takes you into that criminal underbelly, using shadowy figures, crooked dames, heists, guns, trench coats and fedoras to their fullest potential. I also liked the way the story was told, using the template of Citizen Kane to have one main character interview many supporting characters to try and piece together this guy’s life. I also liked that it wasn’t told chronologically, but rather mixed up so that we too, the audience, got to do a little puzzle solving ourselves.

However, you CANNOT give me an opening as good as the one in The Killers and then follow it up with a movie that just isn’t as good. I had no expectations going into The Killers, but once that opening scene played out, with McGraw and Conrad and that sleepy little diner, my expectations shot sky high. Then, what followed was a slightly above average movie, at best. Add to that the fact that Conrad and McGraw (two that I absolutely loved in a matter of minutes) were then yanked from the film altogether, not to reappear until the end of the film and only then for a few seconds. The film just didn’t do anything for me plot wise. For me it just wasn’t that special type of story that just yearned to be told, with a weak plot to boot. First you have Reardon, an insurance investigator with the assignment to hunt down Swede’s beneficiary. He finds the beneficiary within the first thirty minutes and then, for some reason, he’s the guy we’re following for the rest of the film, as he searches for even more answers. They could have just as easily made our main character Sam Levene, a friend of Swede’s and a cop who wanted justice for the murder of his friend. That would have kept things much simpler and we could have left out all the insurance investigator mumbo jumbo.

SPOILER ALERT!

Then we find out that the reason Swede was killed had something to do with a payroll robbery, where $250,000 was stolen by four men, one of whom was Swede. Turns out that Swede double crossed his partners and made off with all the dough, failing to divvy it up. Okay, that makes sense; that’s a good reason for the character of Ole Andreson to be bumped off. But no, that’s not why he was murdered. Turns out that “Big Jim” Colfax, the mastermind behind the payroll heist, actually ended up getting the dough back when his girl Kitty Collins took it back from Swede. You see, he was in love with Kitty, but really, she didn’t care too much for him. She was with “Big Jim” and she got their dough back. However, when “Big Jim” got the loot back, he decided that he wasn’t going to share it either, so he decided that he’d kill “Swede” so that the other heist partners never found out that “Big Jim” actually got the money back. My goodness, that’s complicated and just a goofy piece of logic to hinge a plot on. Couldn’t they have just as easily explained Swede’s killing by saying that he made off with the money and moved to this sleepy little nothing town and now he was being murdered for it? I mean, Hemingway’s story is just the diner sequence, everything else was made up anyway, so it’s not like you’re bound to this piece of writing that you have to follow verbatim. Once you get the diner scene in, the rest is yours to do with as you please.

Or maybe I’m just bitter because they took Max and Al away and followed up that scorching hot opening scene with a movie that was barely lukewarm. The plot was just too hectic and complicated and it really didn’t need to be. They had a pretty basic plan in place; a man is murdered because he decided to get greedy when it came to the payoff of a robbery. It’s so simple and it could have been gold! Murder, My Sweet got a little too confusing too, but at least it wasn’t unwarranted confusion. In that film, they had a path they wanted to take and that path had a lot of key points and players so, of course, it’s going to get a little muddled. In The Killers it was just unnecessary, if you ask me. I mean, when one of your main characters isn’t even really needed (I’m talking about O’Brien), that’s a problem. I’ll leave it at that. Remember gang, this is just my personal opinion and fortunately, opinions are like noses; everybody’s got one.

RATING: 6/10 Let me reiterate that this isn’t an awful film. It’s a classic example of film noir and I’m sure a lot of you who haven’t seen it are going to love it. It just personally irked me…just a little bit.

(The Killers is the 190th entry in the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die book.)

Click here to visit Andrew’s site for my take on The Killers, and tune in tomorrow for Day Five of Seven Shadows, when our movie of the day will be Out of the Past, starring Robert Mitchum and Jane Greer. New posts will be here and at 1001 Movies I [Apparently] MUST See Before I Die starting at 12 noon! KH

Seven Shadows – Day Three: THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE

•May 3, 2012 • 8 Comments

I have a soft spot for The Postman Always Rings Twice – it’s one of the few noirs I’ve ever seen on the big screen, and one of the first I ever saw, many (many) years ago. (For the review of this classic noir, check out Andrew’s entry for Seven Shadows Week over at 1001 Movies I [Apparently] Must See Before I Die.) Along with the great plot, memorable lines, effectively melodramatic score, and superb performances, I love the varied characters in the film – from Frank Chambers (John Garfield), the drifter with the feet that were just “itching to go places,” to the crafty district attorney Kyle Sackett (Leon Ames), to Madge Gorland (Audrey Totter), who was in only one scene, but made an impact as Frank’s Tijuana fling. But my favorite character in Postman is ice-blonde Cora Smith, portrayed by Lana Turner. Here are some of the reasons why!

Cora’s entrance. Our first indication of her imminent appearance is the sound, followed by the sight, of her lipstick rolling toward Frank Chambers. The camera pans across the shadows on the floor until it spies a pair of white, slightly open-toed shoes, pauses for a couple of seconds on the legs, and then offers us the point of view of Frank, who literally takes a breath at the vision before him. So do we, as we finally see Cora, clad in a pair of shorts, midriff top and turban – all white. Frank can scarcely take his eyes off of her as he retrieves the lipstick, asking, “You drop this?” Cora nods pleasantly, examining her reflection in her compact and loftily holds out her hand. But Frank isn’t quite as enthralled as he appeared to be at first, and stands his ground, forcing Cora to cross the room to collect the tube. She does, then returns to the doorway, provides us with a side view as she leisurely applies her lipstick, then tosses Frank one last contemptuous glance before exiting the room and closing the door behind her. It’s one of the greatest entrances in all of noir, for my money.

Cora’s withering glances. Aside from the one she delivered in her first scene, Cora provides us with an even more scornful look in the next. After some verbal sparring with Frank over chairs and paint and whatnot, Cora gets him worked up to the point that he is compelled to grab her by the shoulders and plant one on her. And Cora’s response? She doesn’t say a word. Just wipes Frank’s kiss from her lips and purposefully reapplies her lipstick, intermittently cutting Frank down to size with nothing more than her eyes.

Cora’s wardrobe. Her clothes were the epitome of simplicity – except for two scenes, she was dressed in stark white throughout the film. I don’t know the precise purpose or meaning behind the all-white wear – I’m not deep like that – I just know I loved it. It helped to make Cora the focal point of every scene she was in – and somehow lent itself to whatever sensation she was exuding, whether it was sensuality, loss, evil, determination, fearlessness, redemption, rage, or joy.

Cora’s gumption. Whether she was planning a murder, standing before a judge in a packed courtroom, or holding a gun on a blackmailing adversary, Cora displayed nerves of steel that you simply had to admire.

Cora’s practicality. Cora must have been a Capricorn, because she was one practical sister. Let me count the ways. (1) She married an older man she didn’t love, but who owned his own business, thereby killing two birds with one “I do” – she removed herself from the unwanted attentions from the men who’d chased after her since she was 14 years old, and she acquired solid financial security, to boot. (2) The little changes she wanted to make to improve the business at the diner, like painting the furniture, or buying a neon sign to attract more customers. (3) Her decision to return to the diner after she got a taste of what life would be like with Frank: “It’s back to the hash house for me, and for you, some parking lot where you wear a smock with ‘super service’ on it,” Cora says. “I want to be somebody and if I walk out like this, I’ll lose everything and I’ll never be anybody.  Oh, I love you, Frank, and I want you, but not this way. Not starting out like a couple of tramps.” (4) The way she turned her business into a cash cow after Nick’s death, expanding the seating capacity, opening a beer garden and even giving autographs to the curiosity-seekers who flocked to the diner to get a glimpse of her. When she said she wanted to be somebody, she wasn’t just whistlin’ Dixie.

Cora’s way of getting us on her side. She never appeared to be an evil, mercenary, bad-for-no-good-reason dame – in her own words, she just wanted to “amount to something.” She wasn’t man-crazy – didn’t set her cap for Frank and go out of her way to be sexy and alluring (that seemed to come naturally). And she seemed genuinely horrified when Frank first – in jest, of course – suggested that all their problems would be solved if Cora’s husband, Nick (Cecil Kellaway), were to get plastered one night and drive his car off a cliff. Now, don’t get me wrong – Cora picked up on that germ of an idea and ran with it, but there was something about her that made you sympathize rather than despise her – to root for her instead of hate her. (Or is it just me?)

For these reasons – not to mention the fact that she was so gorgeous in some scenes that she seemed to glow – Cora is by far my favorite character in this much-loved film. Although the postman “rang twice” for Cora, she was one character who caught my attention from the very start and held it in a vise-like grip until the bitter, sudden end. The next chance you get, check out The Postman Always Rings Twice and pay special attention to Cora – you only owe it to yourself!

Tune in tomorrow for Seven Shadows, when our movie of the day will be The Killers, starring Burt Lancaster, Ava Gardner, and Edmond O’Brien. Andrew D. will have a guest review here at Shadows and Satin and I’ll be guesting over at Andrew’s site, 1001 Movies I (Apparently) MUST See Before I Die. Don’t miss it!

 
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