DECOY (1946)

“Quickly, Lloyd, quickly! Dig for it! Deeper! Faster! Quickly, Lloyd! They killed for it! They all killed for it!”

THE CARD:

Nick the bartender, a vicious Limey hotty, yummy hard-boiled eggs, dumbass morgue attendants, a smashed Hippopotamus oath, and a condemned jailbird’s practical joke from the grave.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Dr. Lloyd Craig (Herbert Rudley) wakes up in a restroom somewhere along a dusty state highway. He appears confused and distant, but soon his mood grows sinister. Silently and hypnotically, he makes his way back to San Francisco and confronts the vivacious Margot (Jean Gillie) in her apartment. Hot on the Doc’s heels is cool customer detective Joe “Jojo” Portugal (Sheldon Leonard) but he’s too late to stop Craig from fatally wounding Margot. Craig drops dead and Portugal rushes to Margot’s side to eke a confession out of her. Here she unravels the sequence of events that brought her to this lowly fate. Margot’s ex-squeeze Frank (Robert Armstrong) is on Death Row and is scheduled to get gassed very shortly. She tries in vain to obtain the whereabouts of his stolen $400K loot buried somewhere in the sticks. She enlists the aid of another gangster Vincent (Edward Norris) to piece together a caper to revive Frank after the execution by corpse-napping and then filling him up with an antidote supplied by a patsy doctor. Under the watchful eye of Detective Jojo, Margot sets her sights on golden-hearted Dr. Craig who volunteers at Frank's prison and runs a free clinic in the slums. She seduces the kind doctor and paints a rosy picture of wedded bliss and promise of non-stop humma-humma. Of course, the ruse completely consumes the doctor and he abandons his practice for her. He becomes maniacally obsessed and tosses away his life's work and the affection of his cute nurse (Marjorie Woodworth). Margot's plan goes off without a hitch and Frank is resurrected in Craig's office. But things go completely awry when Vincent kills him after he draws a map leading to the booty. After Margot is revealed as a back-stabbing tramp, Craig is forced to drive them to the location. With Jojo the Wonder Flatfoot close behind, Frank may not wind up as the only dead man plugged by the betrayed of a high maintenance woman with daggers for fingernails.

THE FINISHER:

Decoy has somewhat of a cult following, even amongst film noir geeks. I suppose this is mostly due to the alluring, poisonous performance of Gillie as a deliciously evil femme fatale. Coupled with Gillie's tragic death just a few years after its production and the fact that the movie has wallowed in obscurity since then, I can see how it attained this regard. But there's something not quite even or satisfying about the movie that I found difficult to pinpoint. Gillie does a fine job as the glamorous but deadly female heavy, but I did not feel she was anything special outside the normal expectations of her role. She's a little too shrill, a little too forcefully crazed, and just not sexy enough to capture my imagination. That's not to say she fails utterly, she certainly does not, but I was not wowed by this movie that seemed crafted to be carried by her performance. Director Jack Bernhard presents an uneven story that's hobbled by leaps in logic (a miracle drug that revives the dead?) and a lack of believable character motivation (the good Doctor's instant poon-tang fever). There are, however, some interesting shots such as the moment Dr. Craig sees himself in the cracked bathroom mirror, his face awash with horror and simmering rage, and Margot's sadistic snuffing out of Vincent and others. Rudley is considerately intense as the tragically manipulated Dr. Craig and Leonard is a George Raft-ish wisecracking ball buster who supplies some sorely needed light sequences and moments of tension. Decoy is a lean and efficient low budget offering that does an adequate job with what little it has to work with, for that reason it comes mildly recommended.

FBI GIRL (1951)

“There are some things that can’t be done with a gun or a pay-off.”

THE CARD:

Evil Ironsides, Battle of the Thin Mustaches, two great Hollywood loafer-lighteners, the irritating comedy styling of Noonan and Marshall, Squeaky the Hot Nerd Roomie, Grey Thunder vs. Night Boat, and John Williams, film score master, Oscar-winning composer, triple homicide suspect.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

For the dumb guys in the back, the ominous narration informs us that Washington, D.C. is a center of law enforcement. At the center of that upholding is the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Agents Stedman (Cesar Romero) and Donley (George Brent) are two tough cookie G-men whose latest case involves the hit-and-run murder of the titular character, a young woman who worked as a clerk at the FBI. In order to aid her blackmailed brother, she stole a fingerprint card that links the identity of murder suspect John Williams to a prominent governor (Raymond Greenleaf) who’s looking to capture a Senate seat. The governor’s sinister taskmaster Blake (Raymond Burr) pulls the strings to get this dark chapter erased by using extortion, tubby henchmen, and bow-tied lobbyists. The dead girl’s roommate (Audrey Totter) is also an FBI worker and is enlisted to help with the investigation. She proves to be especially useful when it’s discovered that she is engaged to said lobbyist (Tom Drake) who has ties to Blake and the governor. The Agents race against time to discover who John Williams really is while Blake masterfully manipulates his characters like an evil puppet master. Now, if only he took boat driving lessons.

THE FINISHER:

Part of the Forgotten Film Noir collections, FBI Girl is a very middling thriller with all the excitement and thrills of a weak Dragnet episode. Maybe they should have titled the DVD series Best Left Forgotten Film Noir. No one really stands out in this standard procedural. Romero and Brent parade around like identical twins and trounce through perfunctory dialog and little character depth. Totter and Drake present average performances that raise the acting bar in the film to ‘TV movie’. The only exception is Burr, who turns in another effective heavy role. The production is straight-forward with slight noir touches here and there, but nothing to go nuts about. It’s difficult to dislike what VCI, the distributors of this DVD series, are doing. Although the output is mediocre, at least they are putting out films that would otherwise fade away into some vortex of obscurity. Fortunately, as their releases continue (hopefully) we’ll some day find a noir-ish treat. Unfortunately, FBI Girl ain't it.

HANGOVER SQUARE (1945)

“You could get me. All for you. There’s not a thing I wouldn’t … or that I couldn’t do. You wrote that for me, George. But you’ve never really tried to find out, have you?”

THE CARD:

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Bone, Alfred the butler, another killer Bernard Herrman score, a sultry songbird with a black heart, brilliant use of drapery, how to hide a body on Guy Fawkes night, and two tremendous acting losses, maybe three.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

George Harvey Bone (Laird Cregar) is a talented musician and composer, but when it comes to women, he’s a poor old sap. Not only is he molly-coddled by rich socialite Barbara (Faye Marlowe) who’s heavily vested in his composing career, he's also got bar girl Netta (Linda Darnell) and her pair of sultry lungs, leggy spunk, and dark ambition bouncing around in his head. Plus, it’s the olden days, Victorian era London to be exact, and Bone has got to finish his latest and greatest concerto if he is to be taken seriously by the musical world. But he’s got other problems too. He blacks out and suffers memory loss when he hears screeching, discordant sounds. His personality completely changes and he prowls his neighborhood of Hangover Square in a zombie-like trance with murderous intent. He emerges as a main suspect in the murder of a sleazy character who was stabbed and burned to death. Recognizing his problem and fearing the worst, he consults Dr. Middleton (George Sanders) who has expertise in criminal behavior and the rising science of psychology. When Scotland Yard is unable to link him to the murder, Bone is relieved and continues to work, but is still deeply disturbed coping with his psychosis. When he rejects Barbara’s affections, his attention focuses on pub performer Netta, a raven-haired siren who uses Bone to write music for her popular singing career. She strings him along, teases him with the hint of a relationship, and drags him away from his composing so that he can write sappy love tunes for her. He falls hard for the sexy succubus, but after getting a few successful songs out of him, she dumps him for another man. Reeling violently from Netta’s rebuff, he knocks over some string instruments. The squealing sound triggers his other worldly bloodlust. He does away with Netta in possibly one of the most ingenious ways I’ve ever seen in a movie, but sorry no spoilers here. Upon returning home, he snaps out of his spell and continues to work on his music, aptly titled the Macabre Concerto. Barbara and Middleton’s concern for Bone rises as news of Netta’s disappearance is reported, and the police are again unable to link him to the crime. On the night of the premiere of his concerto, Bone is confronted by Middleton who wants to commit him. But there’s no stopping an unstable and bloodthirsty composer, and Bone is determined to perform his final coda at any cost.

THE FINISHER:

Laird Cregar could have been another acting giant, an iconic Hollywood figure, and one of cinema’s unforgettable personalities. Unfortunately, this immensely talented actor did not attain the heights he seemed destined for and died shortly after the completion of Hangover Square, a powerful and unsettling thriller. He presents a sympathetic but malevolent approach to the tragic character of Bone, and his varied intensity and sensitivity is central to the movie’s success. If you rent the DVD, you should watch the short feature on Cregar in the special features. For me, it is a revelation of an actor I hadn’t had much exposure outside of 1944’s The Lodger where he played a maniacal and psychologically tortured Jack the Ripper. He was pigeon-holed in villain roles (in which he excelled) but Cregar branched out to leading man status as evident in his starring role in Hangover Square. But his own forceful but unhealthy ambition cost him in the end. He is a classic Hollywood tragedy, and I fully intend to watch more of Cregar’s work. Darnell, another talent lost too soon, is intoxicating as the seductive Netta. She is something else in this film, almost an otherworldly dark being, luminous and immoral. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. For some reason, this film was included in Fox’s Horror Classics collection, and although there are horrific elements to the story, the unmistakable hint of film noir is apparent through the cinematography, expressive camera work, and the film’s grim setting and psychological theme. Sanders is exceptional as the good doctor who wants to help and Marlowe is fine and awfully cute as the woman who wants to save Bone from his murderous duality. The Hermann score is typical excellence from the masterful composer, and the use of his score of the Macabre Concerto at the end of the film is creative genius. Wow, am I selling this too much? Hangover Square is a stylistic noir accented with powerful performances, a cracking story, and a wild ending that you won’t soon forget.

BLONDE ICE (1948)

“’'When you want something you want it right now. ... A carload of dollars, social position, the tops.'

'That's just the frame. You're the picture in that frame.'”

THE CARD:

A Goldilocks gold digger, a newsie hubby victim, a sloshed sportswriter lover, a jealous weasel reporter, loads of mustaches and gigantic hats, and more hair-color based ambition than an early 90s Madonna tour.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Sultry gossip columnist Claire Cummings (Leslie Brooks) marries newspaperman John Hanneman (John Holland) while still in love with a sportswriter Les Burns (Robert Paige). The ink on the marriage license isn't even dray when it becomes apparent that Claire, an ambitious social climber, has carried on multiple affairs with many others. She goes through the motions with Hanneman, who recognizes her lofty aspirations and a gambling problem, and after a few weeks of boredom she's ready to bail. When Hanneman finds her mash note to Burns, he makes the break-up official. Realizing she'll get screwed in divorce court, Claire hatches a plot to kill Hanneman. She enlists the aid of a recently released jailbird (Russ Vincent) to fly her to Hanneman's location, off him, and then fly back to another location in time to establish her alibi. The plot is successful, and she even reunites with Burns and waits for Hanneman's cash to roll in. But that's not enough for this bad blondie. She set her sights on a lawyer running for Congress in the hopes of further social climbing. Tugging a clueless and very thirsty Burns along, she juggles secret rendezvous with both men. When the lawyer wins the election, he rejects Claire and she goes nuts and kills the guy. And poor ol' sap Burns is set-up for the murder. A team of secondary characters made up of the newspaper's editor, Burns' lovelorn secretary, and another lawyer try the rescue Burns from the cold hearted icy grip of the fair-haired little tramp.


THE FINISHER:

Blonde Ice is a playfully wicked noir that has a lot of things going for it: no stars, a no name director, and no budget. But all that lack is balanced against against a vile female lead, a business like pace, and a black-hearted plot. Apparently, the movie has been resurrected and restored after many years in relative obscurity. There's a feature on the DVD that suggests that the film's production may have involved director Edgar G. Ulmer at some point. Ulmer is best known for bleak and low budget film noirs such as Ruthless and Detour, both black spirited but particularly effective thrillers. He was a master of doing more with less, accenting his films with interesting characters and dialog that made up for lack of spectacle or cinematic bravado. Blonde Ice is so mean spirited and heinous that it's apparent why one would conclude that it packs Ulmer's punch. Regardless of Ulmer's influence, Claire is nonetheless a mean little bitch, consumed with the desire for upward mobility that ultimately claims her fate. She's the true black widow in a web of deceit and social maneuvering, and the gorgeous Brooks pulls it off with grace and subtlety. She's surrounded by a troupe of capable actors and everyone turns in fine performances. Adding to the grittiness of the picture are the low budget aesthetics: dim lighting, simple camerawork, and stark compositions. Blonde Ice is ultimately a step above conventional B movie fare with a surprisingly strong female lead, an engaging story, and a twisted little crime thriller unearthed for your femme fatale desires.

AFTER DARK, MY SWEET (1990)

“There's something inside of every man that keeps him going long after he has any reason to. For years I kept going when going didn’t seem to make any sense. And now I just had to keep going. I had to have the end come.”

THE CARD:

Nutballs humping, a chronic case of bed head, a foul mouthed kid, a lollipop-starved kid, the soulless desolation of the American Southwest, a thirsty desert flower, no one's favorite Uncle, a godforsaken stroll through the nihilistic world of author Jim Thompson, and that Hunk ain’t right.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

A down-on-his-luck ex-boxer, Kevin “Kid” Collins (Jason Patric) drifts into a desert town after aimlessly wandering a barren highway muttering observations into the dusty air. He looks like a transient, clutching a ratty paper bag and behaving strangely detached and claiming he’s waiting for a friend. After scrapping with a bartender in a punch-up, he meets the mysterious Fay (Rachel Ward), who takes him home and appropriately offers him odd-jobs. But there are secret motives to her altruism, and Collie, as Fay nicknames him, quickly becomes aware that he's being set-up for something bad. His suspicions are confirmed when he meets Uncle Bud (Bruce Dern), a seedy figure in Fay's life who's got a caper perfect for the likes of a seemingly gullible Collie to partake. Collie soon develops feelings for the lost and alcoholic Fay, but his instincts drive him away and he's back on the road. After rambling incoherently in a truckstop, he's befriended by Dr. Goldman (George Dickerson) who recognizes that Collie's problems run deeper than mere quirks. Doc promises help and confidentiality and gives him a home and a job. But as him name implies, Collie is treated like a stray dog by everyone which does nothing but return his thoughts to Fay. He leaves the doctor and reenters her life despite his terrible secret left wide open. Back at Fay's, Uncle Bud is plotting the kidnapping of a prominent family's sickly son, and Collie's been chosen as the grab man. As his affection for Fay intensifies, he is torn by mistrust and self doubt and feels obligated to protect her from Uncle Bud's corrupted influence. But something darker twists his insides, a terrible secret that threatens to break him, Fay, and his newfound purpose in life apart. He goes through with the kidnapping, but things go awry when the boy gets deathly ill, Goldman shows up, and Uncle Bud's got something treacherous up his sleeve. And as Collie becomes more unstable and the caper falls apart, the endgame may spell nothing but a sun dried doom.

THE FINISHER:

After Dark, My Sweet is one of the preeminent neo-noir pictures, films adopting the style and substance of film noir albeit in a contemporary setting with modern themes. Other examples include Carl Franklin's One False Move, Christopher Nolan's Memento, and Rian Johnson's Brick. This movie is a fascinating study of failure, loneliness, and mental instability, classic staples of the genre. The story is not fueled by the action of the kidnapping plot, but rather by the interaction of the three loser characters and their existential plight in the middle of nowhere. The three leads Patric, Ward, and Dern all turn in amazing performances that exemplify the themes of hopelessness and defeat. Patric is impressive as the complex loner with a dark past and a destructive weakness that keeps him out of the fray of normal relations. Ward is similarly great as an outcast figure, living a frittered life in a wasteland, drinking away her loneliness every night of the week. Dern is spectacularly slimey as Uncle Bud, a distasteful human being who's not above twisting a knife in your back in broad daylight. Despite being set in sunny Palm Springs, the film's themes are about as dark as any noir, and this is emblematic of the personal hells in which author Jim Thompson, whose novel the film is based on, excels. Thompson’s worlds are inhabited by psychotic loners, scarred women, and frantic con men where life is negotiated by trigger fingers and desperate acts, and After Dark, My Sweet is a gripping ride into hopelessness where somehow a hero, however flawed, can emerge.

BLACK WIDOW (1954)

“The secret of love is greater than the secret of death.”

THE CARD:

A pre-nuthouse Gene Tierney, the coolest guy named Van, awesome New York skyline matte paintings, a tap shoeless snobby Ginger Rogers, and a scheming purpose girl who stuffs her face and her well, you know.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Peter Denver (Van Heflin) is a successful Broadway producer with an elegant actress wife (Gene Tierney) and resides in a hip, urbane, and chic apartment building in 1950s New York. Unfortunately, one of his neighbors is meddling diva Lottie Marin (Ginger Rogers) who holds socialite parties where her favorite pastime is humiliating ladies with bad hats and dressing down intellectuals with witty repartee. While the wife is out of town, Peter meets a young aspiring writer named Nanny (Peggy Ann Garner) at one of Lottie’s shindigs. Amused by her spunky attitude and dreamy literary desires, Peter strikes up a friendship with her and we are led to assume they are purely platonic. In a flashback, we witness Nanny’s arrival in New York, and a picture is painted of a smart bright-eyed youngster with dreams of becoming a novelist in the big city. But she gets her heart broken when she gets knocked up by a law student in the Village. With a talent to maneuver in the social network of upper crust Manhattan, she weaves a scheme to get into the moneyed world of Broadway to support herself, her career, and the bun in her oven. Unfortunately Nanny winds up rather dead in an apparent suicide. A tough cookie cop (George Raft) has his doubts and reveals that the suicide was a cover for murder and Peter becomes the primary suspect. And Lottie’s gossipy ways and his wife’s insecurities don’t exactly help. With the cops breathing down his neck, his neighbors sticking their fingers in his business, and his wife weeping all the way to divorce court, Peter has no time to lose and must find a way out of this tangled web before he becomes a tasty Vanwich.

THE FINISHER:

I’m not fully convinced that Black Widow qualifies as a film noir. Yes, there’s a murder, there’s sketchy characters doing immoral things, there’s a tough as balls copper, and well, there’s the grim title of the picture. But where’s the stark visuals? Where’s the sexy seductress? Where’s the fallen man? Where’s the gruesome violence? OK, maybe I’m reducing the genre to a set of clichés, so I guess my main problem lies with the titular character herself and the fact that the movie often feels like a melodrama wrapped around a mystery. Maybe the question lies with figuring out who exactly is the Black Widow of the picture. Mrs. Denver is never fully developed to qualify her for the distinction. And Lottie, played terrifically to the bitchy hilt by Rogers, is certainly a frontrunner. But the suggestion points to Nanny, who besides being a cunning schemer, is never convincing as a masterful manipulator, cutie-pie psycho, and devourer of men’s souls. Well, at least that was my expectation. The always reliable Heflin isn’t given much to do besides narrate Nanny’s origin, befriend her to get the ball rolling, and then look desperate in the third act. Helflin’s natural down-to-earth style is more than enough to make the ride enjoyable. The movie is presented in colorful Cinemascope and is brightly lit and stagey, making it feel even less than a traditional noir. But it’s nice to look at and there are some nice shots of mid-century New York to add to the urbane atmosphere. Director Nunnally Johnson’s approach looks more like a television program and less than an engaging dark drama. But the pace is right, the actors turn in fine performances, and the plotting is decent enough to make this a respectable murder mystery.

VIGILANTE (1983)

“You can run, you can hide, or you can start to live like human beings again. This is our Waterloo, baby!”

THE CARD:

The Man called Hammer, an 70-year-old badass called Woody, a Black Hole/Tarantino survivor, Che Gayvarra, reason #120,993 not to move to New York, perpetual scumbag Joe Spinell, Voldar the Christmas-hating Martian, Dr. Insensitive McBlunt, and where's a maniac cop around when you need one?

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Nick (Fred Williamson) is a pissed-off black man who preaches to a gathering of fed-up people sick and tired of having their New York neighborhood trashed by hoodlums. His call to arms against the gang that’s harassing his neighbors unleashes a wave of kidnappings, beatings, and other assorted vigilantism. Meanwhile, Eddie Marino (Robert Forster), his wife, and kid enjoy a nice day in the park unaware of the bloodshed in the streets. Later, his wife humiliates and slaps a beret-wearing gang member while he’s dousing a gas station attendant with gasoline. Eddie is out having a drink with the boys, including an inquisitive Nick who wants to recruit Eddie into the posse. But Eddie doesn’t want anything to do with Nick’s team, and instead makes his first mistake of the movie by putting full faith into the judicial system. At the same time, the gang invades the Marino’s home, shoots the kid and slices up Mrs. Marino. Eddie returns home to view the horror first hand, but the ordeal is not over yet. While the wife convalesces, he’s run through the ringer in the courtroom as the killer is let go and Eddie’s thrown into the slammer for contempt of court, after pitching a fit for this miscarriage of justice. Nick’s gang closes in on the beret-wearing gang and takes out their main drug supplier in spectacular blood splattering goodness. The ineffectual police keep the vigilantes' activities under wraps so as to avoid publicity and copycats, so the gang takes their shenanigans up a notch by assassinating police officers randomly. While Eddie is in jail, he is befriended by Rake (Woody Strode), a tough old bastard who protects him from jailed gang members and from anal intrusion in the shower. Rake philosophizes about crime and the crooked system that feeds on the innocent. When Eddie is released, he’s a new man with a mission to join Nick in his battle to wash away all the scum of the earth down the sewer. Oh, and maybe grab a beer beforehand.

THE FINISHER:

Vengeance has been the prevailing narrative force since the dawn of storytelling and its dominance in film is overwhelming. In particular, urban revenge films in which the main protagonist works outside and against the law were big business in the 70s and 80s. Deemed as immoral and exploitative this sub-genre produced some great movies (Death Wish) and some not-so great (Death Wish IV). Although Vigilante lacks the depth of Taxi Driver or the frenetic pace of Rolling Thunder, it remains a cracking good thriller, with some decent action sequences and a morally conflicted lead besieged by hard luck and a shitty justice system. Forster does a good job with what little he’s given and Williamson is sometimes great, other times a parody of himself as the hot-blooded Nick, part enforcer, part farcical action clown. The film at times aims to be more than an mere exploitation exercise, but can’t escape simplistic moralizing and an exaggerated corrupted legal system. Forster’s plunge into the dark world of vengeance is interesting, but takes a while to develop and lacks any detail on his character or background to make it compelling. The soundtrack is pretty damn good, 80s electronic themes mixed with Latin rock, partly reminiscent of the original Assault on Precinct 13 with a Spaghetti Western twist. Director William Lustig (Maniac Cop) fully immerses the viewer into the unkempt lives of these morally corrupted and abused characters, making Vigilante a respectable revenge story and watch worthy.

THE BIG COMBO (1955)

“Hoodlums, detectives… A woman doesn’t care how a man makes his living, only how he makes love.”

THE CARD:

Young Angel Eyes, a mobster pissing contest, Conte de Sade, an Abu Graib hearing aid, a movie title that’s not El T.’s lunch, Detective Mel Blanc, Eeeeeaaarrrllll Hooolliiiimaaaan, and goofy dames in a tizzy mucked up by a bruno who likes it rough, see?!

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

A frazzled gal (Jean Wallace) takes the run-out from her mobster boyfriend Mr. Brown (Richard Conte) by popping pills. She’s saved from pulling the Dutch act by Brown’s droppers, Fanti (Lee Van Cleef) and Mingo (Earl Holiman), a gruesome twosome who may be gunsels, but who am I to judge? On the other side of the law, Police Lt. Lenny Diamond (Cornel Wilde) is dizzy for Brown’s twist and is aching to have Brown’s elbows checked. But it ain’t gonna be eggs in the coffee, pally, because Brown’s a tough customer with cajones the size of King Kong’s knuckles. Whatever that means. Anyway, Diamond launches a crusade to bring Brown down, obsessed with his sadistic treatment of women and his bloodthirsty ways of doing business, but the detective’s not without issues of his own. He’s overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, and alienation like your typical postwar hero ought to be. Brown is such a conniver and a looming presence that he freely slaps around prizefighters twice his size, deftly maneuvers his legitimate and criminal business combination, slaps around his women and does unspeakable damage to them, and keeps his former boss (Brian Donlevy) around to treat like a kickball. Diamond safely but temporarily secures Brown’s girlfriend Susan in the hospital where she mutters the name “Alicia” repeatedly. In this mysterious name he finds a possible flaw in Brown’s armor, and his obsession deepens along with his misguided affections towards Susan. He sets an extensive investigation into motion against him, and Brown’s old boss is fed up with his abuse and finds an ace up his sleeve. But the vile Brown’s on top of all that and hatches a plan to keep his secret, his girl, and his combo and take down the cops, his enemies, and his past all in one fell and blood-drenched swoop.

THE FINISHER:

If film noir was a bar, The Big Combo would be top-shelf liquor, the Bookers of killer thrillers. Over the years, the movie has been reduced by critics as a stylistic exercise with a flimsy plotline, but in truth it exudes seedy greatness at a low-budget cost accented with a multi-layered subtext of dueling masculinities, scarred psyches, buried secrets, sweaty insecurities, and sexual desperation. Physical and emotional darkness envelop the film and its grimness shrouds the characters in a stark world that is inescapable, even at a dance hall or piano concerto. This is mostly due to cinematographer John Alton’s enthralling photography and lighting which brings to life a nightmarish cityscape populated by shadows, silhouettes, and empty souls. This is arguably film noir at its finest, if not most exemplary, pitch. Wilde’s and Conte’s performances have also been underestimated over the years. Wilde is a raving brute at times, a spiritless loser at others, wallowing in his pathological fixation and fueled by incomprehensible isolation. Conte is a pure quick-quipping sadist, an imposing figure drenched in malevolence and violent power, hateful but magnetic. His is the most fully developed of the characters. Wallace is fine as the Grace Kelly-ish fallen woman; she handles the role of a damaged dame with balanced tenderness and lunacy. Van Cleef and Holiman are great as the homicidal goons and their relationship is maybe the most realized in the movie, leaving not-so subtle hints of its orientation to ponder. The Big Combo is a satisfying potboiler with plenty of visual splendor, tough guy talk, and disturbing psychological tension that will make you hit a bottle after viewing. While others may pleasurably guzzle the melodramatic malty hops of lesser noir, I’ll take another swig of this dark cocktail anytime.

CRIME WAVE (1954)

“Once you do a stretch, you're never clean again! You're never free! They've always got a string on you, and they tug, tug, tug! Before you know it, you're back in again!”

THE CARD:

Boy Majestyk, Detective Ripper, the jailbird honor code, the Hubba Bubba cowboy guy, the mean streets of downtown Glendale, the greatest one-eyed director of all time, and a sloshed vetera-*hic*-vitera-*hic*- uh dog doctor.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Three men, including a young Charles Bronson, stick-up a gas station in downtown L.A., knock out the attendant and empty the cash register until a nosy cop shows up. The cop shoots the driver in the gut and the bleeding man then takes off, leaving his compatriots to shoot the cop to death before disappearing into the darkness. Police Lt. Sims (Sterling Hayden) is assigned to the case to track down the killers, who turn out to be escaped fugitives. Sims is strictly a no-nonsense, tough as nails detective who has to juggle catching the criminals and trying to quit smoking. Meanwhile, the injured driver shows up at the door of Steve Lacey (Gene Nelson), a reformed criminal and former cellblock mate of the escapees. He begs for help, but Steve’s got a beautiful wife (Phyllis Kirk) and a new honest life and career to protect. But the code of the jailbird cannot be evaded, and Steve knows what next in store, none of it good. The bleeding guy dies in his living room and Steve calls his parole officer for help, but Sims doesn’t buy his story. The hunt for the other two steps up, and when it seems that the coast is clear for the Laceys, Bronson and the other guy show up at their door and force him into a scheme to hold-up the Glendale Bank of America. Steve is an accomplished driver and airplane pilot and the crooks plan on flying to Mexico after the robbery. They team-up with two other dumb mugs (including the maniacal Timothy Carey) who keep Mrs. Lacey as ransom in exchange for Steve’s cooperation. But Sims is hot on their trail, ready to put the big kibosh on their criminal shenanigans even if it takes a dose of hot lead and a bundle of jailbird stiffs.

THE FINISHER:

Director Andre De Toth is one of the great unsung filmmakers of the classic Hollywood era who made above average B-movie westerns and crime stories. (And he banged Veronica Lake!). I know him best from his exceptional Vincent Price horror film House of Wax (1953), and in Crime Wave, he presents a tight little thriller with all the signature notes and visuals of film noir with a little extra. The documentary style and use of natural sound and lighting brings the viewer deep inside the dark world of swarthy desperate fugitives, unglamorous ruined women, and reformed criminals trying to make good. Particularly intriguing were the scenes shot on location in the Los Angeles Police Department and downtown Glendale which document an era long past. Hayden is mesmerizing as the hard-hitting Sims and he masterfully commands each of his scenes with his trademark tough guy voice and imposing physical presence. He’s an actor who should be up there with the greats of his time and be as iconic as Bogart, and even though he’s been in some of the best movies in the history of film, I’m afraid his greatness will be forgotten. Nevertheless, the film showcases his talents remarkably and with its gritty realism, energetic pace, and combustible atmosphere, Crime Wave is definitely a strong entry in the world of noir.

IMPACT (1949)

“’Walter Williams’ beautiful widow, who by her own request, sat alone in the family alcove during the services’. Smart. Someone might have caught her licking her chops!”

THE CARD:

A cuckolded CEO, a scheming dollface, a scumbag lothario, a crowbar hair parting, a spectacular toy car crash, amazingly insulting Asian-stereotype chase music, the spunkiest auto mechanic since Chico, Bekins Furniture product placements, an incriminating hanky, and a terrible Telecine DVD transfer.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Walter Williams (Brian Donlevy) is a forceful businessman who runs a prosperous auto corporation. He adores his beautiful wife Irene (Helen Walker) but she is secretly seeing another man and plotting her husband's murder. Williams leaves town on business and his two-faced wife feigns sickness to avoid accompanying him. She arranges for her lover Jim (Tony Barret) to “run-in” to Williams at a train stop just outside their home city of San Francisco. Posing as a family member, Jim hitches a ride with Williams with a plan of offing him before their final destination. Things go terribly wrong and it’s Jim who gets the big ticket to nowhere instead. Williams slowly discovers the plot against him and wanders aimlessly, no home to return to and no one left to love. The officials pronounce him dead and his wife does the grieving widow bit for the papers. But one skeptical police detective (Charles Coburn) smells a rat and turns up the heat on the investigation. Meanwhile Williams drifts into the town of Larkspur, Idaho and hooks up with the radiant grease monkey Marsha (Ella Raines). He saves her from self-reliance and is hired as a mechanic, hoping to find a new life in the little idyllic town. But things are not going well for Irene back home as she’s been accused of Williams’ murder. Williams and Marsha fall in love, but the news from back home forces him to return and confront the situation, only there’s no welcome home wagon or open arms waiting for him, only another betrayal and a fight for his life.

THE FINISHER:

Impact possesses the storyline and elements of a characteristic film noir: betrayal, murder, vengeance, and seediness. But it’s actually a rather average little melodrama with an upbeatending, goody-two-shoes characters, and scenes shot in daylight that take no advantage of the natural San Francisco atmosphere. Donlevy usually plays tough guys in his other film roles, and breaks type here as a stand-up guy with a heart of gold tainted by duplicity. Raines is piercingly stunning and nice to look at, with a Jennifer Connelly face and Meg Foster eyes, and plays her part well. She’s best known as the title character in Robert Siodmak’s awesome noir Phantom Lady which is sadly and incomprehensibly unavailable on DVD. But it’s the conniving Walker who delivers the best performance in the film. She’s given the weighty task of being the heavy in the movie and she does it with razor sharp wickedness. The film lacks a stylish flair usually associated with film noir, but I guess this was a true B-movie, a second feature to back-up the main and usually bigger budgeted feature. And on that respect, it fairs well as a passable drama with light noir-ish hooks.

WHIRLPOOL (1949)

"Yes, granted I'm an oily rascal. Yes, I agree. A liar, a swindler and - what was that last one? Oh, yes, without a trace of human conscience."

THE CARD:

Cyrano de Charlatan, dueling brainwashers, the Richard Conte twins, 101 hypnotic pick-up lines, a grouchy widowed police lieutenant, couples therapy through murder, and the cutest klepto since Winona.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Anne Sutton (Gene Tierney) is married to a noted psychiatrist (Richard Conte), shops on Wilshire, and keeps a terrible secret from him: she’s kleptomaniac. She’s also an insomniac, a chronic worrier and kind of a dumbbell who easily falls for slimeballs in the form of David Korvo (José Ferrer). When they first meet, Korvo talks her out of a sticky situation at a department store after she’s caught pocketing jewelry. He introduces himself as a self-professed astrologer/hypnotist who claims he can help cure her problems. Anne admits to Korvo that she is not sure of the stability of her marriage, and it’s hinted that she has deep psychological problems exacerbated by her insecurities. She is ashamed of bringing her problems to her well-respected husband, and when her association with Korvo blossoms, she unwittingly falls under the control of the evil mesmerizing conman. Through hypnotic trances and his wily way with words, he seduces and frames her for the murder of one of her husband’s patients, a woman who has been extorting money from him. She is arrested for the murder and suddenly her husband takes an interest and tries to clear her name. But Korvo deftly creates an alibi for himself and it appears that his control over Anne is more powerful than she can overcome. Dr. Sutton, his lawyer, and a gruff but loveable police detective join forces to solve the case, break Anne out of her spell, and take that long-nosed magical gigolo down.

THE FINISHER:

Whirlpool has got a lot going for it: director Otto Preminger, venerated Hollywood screenwriter Ben Hecht, the wonderful José Ferrer, and the gorgeous Gene Tierney, just four years past her role in the noir classic Laura. But all that talent at work cannot guarantee an even movie, and the film starts with promise but slowly swirls down the drain with slow pacing and long-winded plotting. Tierney is radiant in the role of Anne, but somehow seems out of place with a hint of disinterest. But you can argue that her detached, robotic air fits perfectly into a portrayal of a woman slowly losing her grasp on reality and plunging into a nightmare world of mental illness, a sad sign of things to come in Tierney’s real life. You just can’t take your eyes off her, especially after her plunge into despair. Ferrer is outstanding as Korvo who makes for a boastful, arrogant, and bombastic villain. His hammy acting style is particularly suitable for the role of a conniving pretender whose mental abilities may be legit. Other than Tierney and Ferrer, the rest of the cast is unremarkable. Conte seems to be phoning it in, bringing nothing of the brooding intensity or depth we saw in House of Strangers. Visually, there are some interesting moments especially during the eerie sequence where a hypnotized Anne wanders the home of the murdered woman like a ghost, indifferent to the ways of the living. Unfortunately, Whirlpool shows little of the greatness of the talent behind the camera, but pays off with two solid performances by Ferrer and Tierney and presents interesting statements on marriage, fidelity, and the thin line between charlatanism and psychiatry.

DR. BELL AND MR. DOYLE (2000)

“The quack of yesterday is the professor of tomorrow.”

THE CARD:

Rampant cadaver abuse in the name of science, snooty Scotland Yard detectives, snooty English actors, snooty bucktoothed actresses, snooty deduction and accusation, and a snooty BBC television mystery with an interesting historical perspective on a literary legend, but still snooty.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

A newspaper boy on the streets of London cries out breaking news: Sherlock Holmes is dead! A near-riot erupts and there is outcry, outrage, and a demand for justice for the murder of Britain’s beloved citizen and crusader. But this isn't a story about the great detective. A mob gathers outside the headquarters of The Strand magazine, and Holmes' creator Arthur Conan Doyle (Robin Laing) barely makes it inside alive to meet his editor. The editor is baffled at the decision to kill off this most popular creation, and Doyle lays out his reasoning by flashing back to his days in medical school. Doyle is a curious and observant student, eager to gain the acceptance of pioneering forensic scientist Dr. Joseph Bell (Sir Ian Richardson), who has a reputation as an eccentric in the school. Bell's tactics, theories, and unique detection skills are seen with skepticism amongst his peers but are popular with the students of the University of Edinburgh. Doyle slowly earns Bell's attention and he takes him on as his apprentice outside the classroom where Bell helps investigate murders with the police. Meanwhile, Doyle is preoccupied with the mental deterioration of his father and a romantic interest with one of the first women to be accepted into the medical school. A group of men opposed to the admission of women physically threatens the love interest and Doyle comes to her rescue. Bell and Doyle solve several crimes using science, reasoning, and keen observation and become relied upon by Scotland Yard. But as time goes one, Doyle becomes doubtful of Bell’s approach to investigation and their heads butt on several conclusions. On one particular case - a murder in a brothel - they almost come face-to-face with the assailant. The killer gets away only to kill again with increasing ferocity, pushing the limits of the new team and testing loyalties. The wife of a prominent lord is poisoned, the bodies pile up, and Doyle’s new girlfriend has an unseen threat stalking her every move that may be related to the brothel murder. Bell and Doyle have to set aside their differences if they want to capture the killer, solve the crime, and pave the way for a billion Holmes stories, paperbacks, and movies.

THE FINISHER:

This BBC made-for-TV movie is an edited version of a miniseries titled Murder Rooms: The Dark Beginnings of Sherlock Holmes and is a fascinating, but probably heavily fictionalized, look into the inspiration for the legendary fictional detective. One of the most interesting facts that emerged and was used in the main plot was that the real-life Doyle did attend medical school with an infamous serial killer who may or may not have become the inspiration for Moriarty in the Holmes stories. The movie is a typically fine BBC mystery production: a well-written script with twists and turns albeit at a slow pace. Sir Ian is terrific as Dr. Bell, the prototype for Sherlock Holmes and displays the mannerisms and trademarks that will be formulated in the creation of the character. He is warm and affable yet stern and analytic without Holmes’ signature abrasiveness and cold intellectualism. The characters work well against each other and the production values are top notch. But because this version is a pared down version of the miniseries, there remains holes and giant leaps in the overall plotline. Laing as Doyle disappears in the second half of the film and the groundwork they laid down at the beginning (sick father, insecurity about medical school, love interest) gets lost in the investigation of a series of murders that at first don’t seem very interesting. But eventually the balance between the two principals, the references to future Holmes adventures, and the early forensics and logic at work to propels the story to a satisfying conclusion. Dr. Bell and Mr. Doyle make a fine team worthy of their literary inspiration. No shit here, Sherlock.

REVOLVER (1973)

“A man has just been killed so you can have your freedom. But I swear to God unless you start talking, I'm going to see the color of your guts!”

THE CARD:

A fey Kurt Russell wannabe crooner, a snazzy bullfighter top, the second greatest Fabio, Brilliant Ennio Morricone Score #1109388, a people-smuggling Barbara Streisand, bald police detectives, nice clothes for a 70s flick, 10,000 bottles of booze, and the toughest SOB named Oliver.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Oliver Reed is a no-nonsense prison warden named Vito Cipriani. He has a beautiful young wife, leads an honest life, and a commands a venerable position with a respected reputation. Milo Ruiz (Fabio Testi) is a French crook who after a failed robbery has to bury his gut-shot accomplice by the side of a river and then go on the lam. He is eventually captured and placed in Cipriani’s prison. Later, after the assassination of a political figure in the city of Milan, Cipriani’s gorgeous wife Anna (Agostina Belli) is kidnapped. The kidnappers demand Cipriani release Milo from his custody in exchange for the safety of his wife. If he involves the police, his wife is dead, so he goes it alone to get her back at any cost. And brother, after you see the film's steamy love scene, you'll know why. He arranges for Milo's escape and the pair head out to Paris where Anna is being held for the exchange. Meanwhile, Milo has no idea who is benefactors are, but soon realizes that a larger conspiracy is starting to emerge that connects his dead friend and the assassination. Vito and Milo fight with one another endlessly and they find themselves forced to cooperate with each other when they figure out that the bigger picture involves political intrigue, oil corporations, corrupt government officials. They also being to realize that one of them won’t make it out of this caper alive, and a terrible price is about to be paid.

THE FINISHER:

The American thriller, from film noir to Hollywood actioners, had a profound effect on the emergence of Italian police-related crime films or poliziotteschi in the 1970s. These films are remarkable for their tough as nails characters, lurid and sometimes complex storylines, two-fisted action, and vitriolic displays of violence. 1973’s Revolver is fairly classic example of the genre, although its approach to plot, characterization, and themes are a bit more mature and realized than its contemporaries. Bleak and depressing, the movie explores desperate men who forsake their ethics and morals when confronted with a daunting challenge and inescapable fate. Even the innocents, such as the lovely warden’s wife Anna, do not escape without permanent damage. Reed and Testi enjoy a smoldering and volatile chemistry and each tackle their roles with robust fury. They are an old couple, but each brings their own unique intensity and sexuality to their portrayals of two men on the opposite sides of the law who have been compromised. The plot is a little complicated at first, but the dubbed version that I saw seemed to explain the goings-on better than the older print with confusing subtitles I saw circulating years ago. Director Sergio Sollima presents another solid movie and much like the awesome Violent City, he brings a stylistic, yet documentary-like approach to his visual storytelling. But the real standout of the movie is the score by Ennio Morricone. The opening tune where Testi buries his friend under a pile of rocks is emotional and unforgettable. The score is jazzy and light in parts, but the main theme is classic Morricone: a simple, jagged melody overlaid with harsh strings and intense percussion. Although there’s a concerning lack of revolvers (they mostly use lugers), Revolver is a first-rate example of the Italian crime film.

HOUSE OF STRANGERS (1949)

THE CARD:

A young Barzini, Laura Holt's Dad, more familiar betrayal than a Royal Family picnic, Mulberry Street residents that aren’t Rat People, a lasagna-loving horse killer, and a Sicilian meah, see?

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Headed by patriarch Gino Monetti (Edward G. Robinson), the Monetti clan runs a prosperous bank in 1930s New York. Second eldest son Max Monetti (Richard Conte) returns home after a seven-year stint in prison. His three brothers - sinister Joe, dim-witted Pietro, and slick Tony - are less than enthused and treat him coldly. It quickly becomes apparent that the brothers had something to do with sending him to the big house, and Max drafts a plan for revenge. He reunites with a former flame, the sultry Irene (Susan Hayward) who has faithfully waited for him for years. She wants to fly the coop together and escape the inevitable bloodshed that awaits, but Max is driven with a vendetta against his brothers who committed a so-far nameless crime against him. He returns to his boyhood home, looks up at a portrait of his father, and sits down to listen to one of Gino’s opera records. The movie flashes back to the time before Max went to prison. Gino runs his banks with an iron fist, lends money to the residents of the bowery hobbled with exorbitant interest while maintaining a firm grip on his four sons who run the bank. Max was second in charge, the only son with a college education and a law degree. Joe was the hapless office manager, Pietro the security guard and glass-jawed prize fighter, and Tony the sleazy shyster slacker. Each of his sons disappoints him in some way or another, except for Max the favorite, and he earns their resentment and fear with his persistent verbal abuse. When Gino’s loosey-goosey accounting practices gets him and the bank into hot water, Max rises to his defense, but when the foxy Irene enters his life and distracts him from his engagement, his career, and his family, big trouble brews. The three humiliated brothers take full advantage of the investigation by setting up Max and stripping Gino’s control from the bank. But the favorite son returns to avenge his father and himself, and not even a hot-blooded dame or a pasta pot full of cash will stop him.

THE FINISHER:

Director Joseph L. Mankiewicz is best known for his Oscar-winning movies Letter to Three Wives and the amazing All About Eve. But in between these two classic films he made House of Strangers, a very loose translation of King Lear and a noir-ish melodrama dealing with family themes such as favoritism, loyalty, and betrayal. The great Robinson chews up the scenery and the spaghetti with his trademark gusto. Conte is excellent as the loyal son whose love for his father becomes his downfall. I haven’t seen much of Susan Hayward before, but to me she seems like a fusion of two other film noir babes Gloria Grahame and Rita Hayworth. Although she shows little skin and screeches hysterically at times, she shares a sizzling chemistry with Conte that takes up the first part of the film. Other than sloppy accounting, there is no hard crime at the core of the movie; instead it explores the moral crimes of degradation, disrespect, and disloyalty within the family. Gino is not an evil man; he’s just torn between his love for his favorite son and his inability to see beyond the flaws of his lesser sons. In the end, he pays for this character flaw and when Max tries to make up for it, he is confronted by the awful truth that sometimes revenge isn’t enough. House of Strangers is a little long and slow in parts, but it’s well worth a watch.

You just gotta get past Robinson’s goofy Mario-ish Italian accent. Mama-meah, see?!

MYSTERY STREET (1950)

“Professors work with their heads. Cops work with their feet.”

THE CARD:

A bleach-blonde bimbo on a date with the bottom of a lake, CSI: Fantasy Island, a greedy, conniving and doddering Bride of Frankenstein, a Harvard Prof with a keen eye for murder and brilliant pipes, a killer who needs a stern talking to, and no smiles for anyone.

More info here.

THE ANGLE:

A desperate bar girl (Jan Sterling) is sick and tired of her tawdry lifestyle and rings up her married lover with an ultimatum. When he rebukes her, she picks up a drunk who owns a car and drives over to her hitched boyfriend’s home to confront him. She ditches the rummy at a gas station and he walks home. And in typical unsavory noir morality, it’s revealed that the guy was getting hammered while his wife was in the hospital in labor. The hot-under-the-collar hotty meets her lover in the wilderness outside his home, but instead of a ring, roses, and dropped-pants, she’s confronted with a barrel of a gun. The shadowy murderer then dumps her body and the car into a lake.

Months later, a skeleton inside a submerged car is found around the coasts of Cape Cod. The case is assigned to Portuguese-American detective Lt. Pete Morales (Ricardo Montalban) who takes full advantage of solving the case to save his floundering career breaking small capers in the sticks. Seemingly hitting a brick wall, he reluctantly consults a forensic scientist at the Department of Legal Medicine at Harvard, the silly-named Dr McAdoo (Bruce Bennett). In a very cool sequence, McAdoo’s staff analyzes the skeletal remains using slides and projections and determines that the remains belong to the missing woman from the opening of the movie. But it’s not just science that helps the investigation. Morales pounds the pavement with old-fashion case-cracking skills, finds the owner of the car, and arrests the unlucky drunk who ditched his pregnant wife, Henry Shanway. McAdoo disagrees with Morales’ suspicions that Henry’s the trigger man, Henry escapes custody, and things get really complicated when the dead girl’s snoopy landlady (Elsa Lanchester) knows the real killer and initiates a blackmail scheme that can’t end well for anyone.

THE FINISHER:

Mystery Street is a killer B-movie, a nifty little criminal procedural with an unmistaken hint of noir atmosphere. All of the principals present effective, low-key performances, especially Montalban who is probably one of the most underrated actors of his time. The always reliable Lanchester is over-the-top as the despicable, immoral blackmailer and Bennet is unflappable and determined as the stern but masterful scientist McAdoo. Director John Sturges and cameraman John Alton present a fine paced mystery graced by superb cinematography in the classic sense of noir. Perhaps most remarkable is the surprising amount of early forensic science that was balanced against traditional detective work. Strurges displays the science in small, visionary doses that maintained interest and generally just wowed me. Montalban and Bennet work so well together that I wished this could have become a franchise of detective stories. Mystery Street is an excellent, peppy whodunit, with fascinating visuals, sharp dialogue, and an investigation team that’s far more interesting that anything Jerry Bruckheimer has to offer.