THE BIG HEAT (1953)

Columbia Pictures, 89m 46s

As a person born long after the end of the film noir movement, I view everything noir through a retrospective lens. I sometimes imagine what it would have been like to have seen some of my favorite film noirs at the time of their respective theatrical runs. Some of the most dynamic wish list titles that leap to mind include DETOUR (1945), GILDA (1946), NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947), KISS ME DEADLY (1955), THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER (1955) and TOUCH OF EVIL (1958). I think all of these movies pack a pronounced punch today, so the shared experience of the past must have been exceptional. But perhaps more than any other noir film, I wonder what the general audience takeaway was from THE BIG HEAT, one of the most bitterly cynical and unpleasantly misogynistic of film noirs.

Directed with vigor on a 24-day shooting schedule by the estimable Fritz Lang, our American crime story opens on a tragic note with the suicide of Detective Sergeant Thomas Duncan, which leaves the opportunistic Bertha Duncan (Jeanette Nolan) a widow. Bertha archives Tom's incriminating notes on the area's resident crime boss Mike Lagana (Alexander Scourby) and secures a schedule of blackmail payments. Sergeant Dave Bannion (Glenn Ford in a disciplined performance) is assigned to the case and quickly is faced with conflicting information between Bertha and her late husband's side piece Lucy Chapman (Dorothy Green). After Lucy is eliminated "prohibition style," Bannion is warned repeatedly to distance himself from the case, which of course he does not. His persistence leads to the death of his wife Katie Bannion (Jocelyn Brando) and his suspension from the police department. Now more avenging angel than cop, the alienated, tight-lipped loner Bannion swings a wrecking ball at the fractured system of authority that permits the city to be controlled by an arrogant crime lord.

Life of a gangster moll: Debby Marsh (Gloria Grahame)

Sergeant Dave Bannion (Glenn Ford)

The evil queen

Filmmaker and film historian Paul Schrader recognized there was a difference between the major protagonist of later film noir compared to the noir films produced earlier. With his cornerstone article "Notes on Film Noir" (FILM COMMENT, Spring, 1972), Schrader asserts, "The third and final phase of film noir, from 1949-'53, was the period of psychotic action and suicidal impulse. The noir hero, seemingly under the weight of ten years of despair, started to go bananas." (p. 12) That description applies to the major protagonists who appear in GUN CRAZY (1950), IN A LONELY PLACE (1950), WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS (1950), ON DANGEROUS GROUND (1951) and THE PROWLER (1951). Sergeant Bannion also conforms to Schrader's noir psycho archetype, if not exactly from the get-go. Bannion's placid nature on display early in the film swerves into the pathological after his wife is killed by the car bomb intended for him. His determination to restore order to a compromised city is alluded to when Bannion knocks down the miniature police station constructed by his young daughter Joyce (Linda Bennett, uncredited). The fallen pieces cause the girl to cry, and for good reason:  stabilization of core police department functions and the removal of disruptive crime figures will require considerable female sacrifice.

Apart from the seemingly incorruptible Bannion, the local police force has been emasculated from top to bottom by the ruthless city kingpin Mike Lagana and his brutal shadow government. Both a symbol of cultural decline and the immigrant's perseverance, Lagana maintains a tight grasp on the city's business and political activity. His corrosive influence extends throughout the police department, which ensures an appalling lack of law enforcement ethics. Feckless police officials primarily act out of self-preservation, worried more about their pensions than anything else. Bannion's steadfast professionalism is met with resistance by Lieutenant Ted Wilks (Willis Bouchey), under direct pressure from Lagana. Wilks admonishes Bannion for following basic police procedure and strongly encourages him to forget about a brutal homicide with obvious connections to the Duncan case. After Bannion rightly calls out Commissioner Higgins (Howard Wendell) as a pathetic puppet of Lagana, Higgins immediately suspends Bannion. That sequence of events transforms our lead protagonist into a laconic loner, isolated from his own colleagues, booted to the curb by his superiors. Disgusted by spineless cops on the take, Bannion embodies resilient stoicism when confronted with provocation, a model of composed resolve determined to defeat widespread corruption. In one of the great film noir traditions, bringing down Lagana becomes Bannion's obsession. Director Fritz Lang had presented obsessed main protagonists, both portrayed by Edward G. Robinson, in THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW (1944) and SCARLET STREET (1945), two of the crucial film noirs of the 1940s. Similarly obsessed lead or major characters provide the backbones for many of the most famous of film noirs, including DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), LAURA (1944), GILDA, OUT OF THE PAST (1947), GUN CRAZY, IN A LONELY PLACE and SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950).

Though the period of time Lagana has been a major influence in the city never is specified, it has been long enough for some truly deplorable characters to feel at ease in the system. A city beast of unparalleled nastiness, Vince Stone (Lee Marvin) is a thoroughly reprehensible personality construct that poses a threat to anyone in his vicinity. A top-tier henchman for Lagana with a nonstop proclivity for gambling, Stone demonstrates his impatience and a rotten mean streak at The Retreat when dice girl Doris (Carolyn Jones) grabs the dice too quickly for his liking:  he callously burns her hand with his cigar. One gets the sense Stone is prone to vicious outbursts whenever a woman annoys him. Perhaps he even takes a sadistic pleasure in hurting them. "You like working girls over, don't you?" Bannion cannot help but observe. Stone assumes he can repair his psychopathic outburst with a little bit of money and a kind word. Presumably such compensation has been sufficient to cure his more impulsive transgressions historically. With miserable thugs in positions of power like Stone, an abhorrent psychotic with shocking disdain for human existence, one wonders if there is any going back to how things might have been prior to Lagana's ascension to the rank of crime boss.

Bannion surveys his empty home,
a place rendered meaningless by the Lagana syndicate

Debby repeatedly reviews her obvious charms in the mirror,
unaware she will not make that a habit much longer

This shot implies a rigid division between the humble working class
and the corrupt, expansive urban world under investigation by Bannion

Psychological warfare between rogue cop and the city's creeps:
Bannion addresses the menace presented by Larry Gordon (Adam Williams)

Underworld objectives that incapacitate the city's essential public services bring corresponding complications for the traditional American family and its support structure. A foundational tenet of the film noir is the notion that the nuclear family has passed its expiration date as basic social unit. Sylvia Harvey explored this recurring theme in her essay, "Woman’s Place: The Absent Family of Film Noir" (WOMEN IN FILM NOIR, E. Ann Kaplan, Ed., 1978]). Harvey explains:

"It is the representation of the institution of the family, which in so many films serves as the mechanism whereby desire is fulfilled, or at least ideological equilibrium established, that in film noir serves as the vehicle for the expression of frustration." (p. 23) She goes on to write, "One of the fundamental operations...has to do with the non-fulfilment of desire." (p. 23) and "...if successful romantic love leads inevitably in the direction of the stable institution of marriage, the point about film noir, by contrast, is that it is structured around the destruction or absence of romantic love and the family." (p. 25)

Harvey's observations provide a helpful prism through which to view THE BIG HEAT, a study in urban decadence that offers little room for the sort of domestic way of life portrayed in TV programming of the day like I LOVE LUCY (1951–1957) and FATHER KNOWS BEST (1954–1960).

The status of the noir family crystallizes in the opening sequence, when a suicide brings the Duncan marriage to its abrupt conclusion. To begin the film in such a manner immediately questions the strength and validity of the American household. Then we are brought to the Bannions, the ostensible antithesis of the Duncans and seemingly idyllic family setting, at least upon an initial inspection. But so ideal is the introduction of the Bannion household the viewer senses difficulties must be fermenting. Displayed in a prominent position in their home is a photograph of policemen in uniform, Dave presumably among them, which suggests a permanent encroachment on his private life. Though the couple enjoys dinner together in their modest middle-class home and appear perfectly content with one another, the first sign of trouble emerges when their steak dinner is interrupted by Bannion's police work. The following day, after learning of the murder of Lucy Chapman, Bannion is disturbed enough to bring his work home with him, which his wife cannot help but notice. In another key segment, Dave and Katie share a close moment that might have ended in sex had they not been interrupted by their daughter (kids are never conducive to intimacy). The Bannion marriage appears to be loving and functioning on the surface, but in truth falls short of mutual fulfillment thanks mostly to Bannion's demanding profession, which offers a minimum of separation between his professional and personal affairs. And from an economic perspective, glaring class distinctions isolate the Bannions from an affluent person like Lagana. A place where jokes are made about the limitations of a policeman's salary, the small rooms and low ceiling heights of the Bannion home differ sharply from the materialistic plenty that distinguishes Lagana's lifestyle. The police department even offers public security for private parties at the Lagana home. It feels as if the principles and obligations meant to keep the nuclear family intact allow for far less accumulation of wealth.

In terms of marriage and family, the women who inhabit the fictional American city of Kenport are marked by an unsuitability for that pathway. Moreover, a hefty sample of female sacrifice is required to make the city's transition to moral normalcy possible. Although Katie Bannion is put forward as the supportive, respectable housewife and nurturing mother, she is destroyed by the mob that seeks to keep her bothersome husband in check. Beyond Katie comes a discernible downgrade in female representation. All of humble origins, we have so-called barflies, a mature woman who requires a cane for mobility, the quintessential gangster moll and a scheming widow. Connected with this all-female group is an unrelenting physical disfigurement theme (burns, impaired mobility, victims of gunfire or strangulation). Each of them is somehow less than what they once were, destined for the morgue, or both. Tom Duncan's mistress Lucy Chapman is tortured before she is strangled to death, her discarded body found repeatedly burned by cigarettes. Bannion inadvertently (or perhaps, carelessly) gets her killed. Doris, the dice girl at The Retreat, is savagely burned on the hand by Stone. Selma Parker (Edith Evanson), an administrative assistant at the local salvage yard, bravely agrees to help Bannion's investigation. He absolutely puts her in a dangerous spot in front of a suspected killer, especially when one considers her dependence on a cane. Stone's girl Debby Marsh (Gloria Grahame) is a childish but street-smart urban beauty who defines herself by her attractiveness; every mirror she encounters activates her narcissistic impulses. When not reviewing her appearance, she spends her time making drinks, relaxing on the couch and shopping. Bertha Duncan is also associated with mirrors, though in not quite the same context. The mirrors that reflect Bertha seem to comment on her complexity, her duplicitous, self-serving nature. The implication that seems unavoidable within the text of THE BIG HEAT is that women fundamentally exist in their capacity to serve some masculine need in an ongoing pattern of systemic misogyny. By inference, the most viable family structure might be the ersatz support network created by Bannion's brother-in-law Al (John Crawford, uncredited), who with his old army buddies forms an alternative family of masculine protection that watches over Bannion's vulnerable daughter Joyce, who is left to grow up without her mother. Given the most common fate of the narrative's adult females, what the future holds for Joyce is a troubling thought.

So if women all are subject to the control of egocentric men, one might ask what happens when women are not held in check by entrenched patriarchal power? That answer surfaces when Bannion visits Lagana to review the gangster's well-earned reputation. Bannion soon encounters a depiction of the ultimate monstrous feminine. Lagana's beloved mother, deified within a massive framed portrait, might be considered one of film noir's most malevolent femme fatales. The recently departed Lagana family matriarch, who resided with her son until her death, is positioned well to oversee and no doubt approve of all of her son's sordid business affairs. The woman idealized by her son in THE BIG HEAT might be dead, but her legacy lives on in the form of her likeness and offspring. Interestingly, in a homoerotic subtext probably too conspicuous to be referenced as an undertone, when Lagana is introduced in his bed during the opening sequence, his male servant/bodyguard/companion George Rose (Chris Alcaide) is present. A gay man with a mother complex, Lagana is never shown with a woman (though he does have a daughter named Angela), other than beneath his mother's all-knowing portrait. Otherwise he is the archetypal crime boss surrounded by men. Presented here as both a threat to the basic nuclear family and an invasive criminal force, the homosexual villain was a signature element of the film noir. Such character tropes populate celebrated noir titles such as THE MALTESE FALCON (1941), THE GLASS KEY (1942), LAURA, GILDA, THE BIG CLOCK (1948), FLAMINGO ROAD (1949), THE RECKLESS MOMENT (1949), STRANGERS ON A TRAIN (1951) and THE BIG COMBO (1955).

Debby sulking in darkness,
a scarred victim of savage patriarchal authority

Debby gets her revenge

Can he do it? Not with the PCA watching his every move

Redemption

THE BIG HEAT is well remembered for its unsettling hot coffee scene, so much so that the (now defunct) boutique label Twilight Time re-issued the film on Blu-ray in 2016 with a steaming coffee pot as the focus of the packaging. The hot coffee sequence deserves review from multiple angles. The scene is set up in an earlier segment when Stone assures Lagana that Debby is out on the street if she ever disappoints her benefactor. Later, after Stone fears Debby has gotten overly friendly with Bannion, Stone douses her with scalding hot coffee. The appalling attack is witnessed by Commissioner Higgins, a regular at Stone's endless poker games. Higgins is a weak, submissive man, monumentally unfit for his job. His embarrassing lack of authority certifies just exactly how in charge the Lagana group has become. Stone is free to leave a trail of dehumanizing violence without fear of retribution, even with a policeman of high rank onsite. Exactly half of Debby's face is scarred permanently by the coffee, evidence that both Freudian female archetypes (Madonna/whore) exist in one female body in roughly equal parts. During her dying moments, Debby's redemption is granted by Bannion, who recognizes her signature vacuity has been overcome by sympathetic thoughtfulness. As she dies, Debby only wishes to know what Bannion's late wife was like. Unfortunately, neither female archetype is able to survive Kenport, where masculine needs reign.

The film closes on an uncomfortable note when Bannion formalizes his commitment to keeping city crime in check. “Keep the coffee hot,” he requests. That line carries some ugly connotations about what likely will be required going forward to prevail against disorder in a volatile urban milieu, a figurative hell, always susceptible to the rising force of another criminal upstart. In such an environment, the coffee never cools. Early in the film it is mentioned "there were four Lucy Chapmans," which is to imply there is more cannon fodder available for the police department's town maintenance. Tellingly, multiple posters are attached to the walls of Bannion's workplace that read "Give Blood Now" and "Blood Means Life." Such marketing signals ongoing sacrifice for the greater good. Although Bannion endangers all the women with whom he communicates, the narrative never vilifies him, his methods never really are called into serious question. In another line of analysis regarding Lucy Chapman's horrific demise, does a certain amount of contributory carelessness facilitate her downfall? How could she talk to a cop at her place of employment, a known gangster watering hole, without worry that she was planing the planks for her own coffin? How could the supposedly streetwise dame make such a catastrophic mistake? In the filmic universe of THE BIG HEAT, only men know how women are supposed to behave.

The film noir movement responded to heightened public awareness of organized crime that resulted from The Kefauver Hearings (1950–1951). Chaired by first-term Tennessee senator Estes Kefauver, the hearings were televised and consumed by a large US audience. Noir films that exploited the public's new consciousness of mob activity were plentiful, including 711 OCEAN DRIVE (1950), THE MOB (1951), THE RACKET (1951), THE CAPTIVE CITY (1952, endorsed by Senator Kefauver), HOODLUM EMPIRE (1952), KANSAS CITY CONFIDENTIAL (1952), THE SELLOUT (1952), THE TURNING POINT (1952), THE SYSTEM (1953), THE MIAMI STORY (1954), CHICAGO SYNDICATE (1955), NEW ORLEANS UNCENSORED (1955), NEW YORK CONFIDENTIAL (1955), THE PHENIX CITY STORY (1955) and TIGHT SPOT (1955). I consider THE BIG HEAT the grittiest of this prolific noir subgenre. Erstwhile crime reporter Sydney Boehm's screenplay has its roots in William P. McGivern's Saturday Evening Post serial (December, 1952). The serial was published as a novel in 1953. For the uninitiated, "big heat" is slang for the police bringing the hammer down on crime. But in light of the film's most famous sequence, the "heat" comes in various forms.

Austrian director Fritz Lang built a spectacular resume for himself in both Germany and Hollywood prior to his film noir phase. His early work anticipates the American noir movement in terms of both plotting and visual schemes, i.e. DR. MABUSE, THE GAMBLER (Dr. Mabuse, der Spieler, 1922), METROPOLIS (1927), M (M - Eine Stadt sucht einen Mörder, 1931), FURY (1936) and YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE (1937). Prior to helming THE BIG HEAT, Lang's noir contributions already consisted of some of the key genre entries, including THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW, SCARLET STREET, HOUSE BY THE RIVER (1950) and THE BLUE GARDENIA (1953). Director of photography Charles Lang's achievements in cinematography are vast, with well over 100 films to his credit. He is perhaps best known for comedies that all classic film fans should be familiar with such as THE GHOST AND MRS. MUIR (1947), SABRINA (1954) and SOME LIKE IT HOT (1959). Among his noir efforts are two of my longtime favorites:  ACE IN THE HOLE (1951) and SUDDEN FEAR (1952). In THE BIG HEAT, Glenn Ford is just superb as the indefatigable cop pushed to his limits. He delivers some terrific hard-boiled lines, for instance, "Tell that to your mother," and "There aren't gonna be any coming years for you." The incomparable Gloria Grahame proves herself Ford's equal in a role that seems ideal for her, though she was not the studio's first choice (the price tag for Marilyn Monroe was too high). Notable supporting performances include Peter Whitney as the bar owner Tierney, an odious character who truly deserves a punch in the face. Dan Seymour also leaves an impression as scrapyard dealer Mr. Atkins, who puts the safety of his family (wisely, it seems) ahead of Bannion's investigation. And Dorothy Green offers a sympathetic turn in her brief role as Lucy Chapman, a “B-girl” or “barfly" whose job is to encourage male patrons to buy more drinks. As one can imagine, from that job to prostitution must be a short journey.

A tremendous addition to the Criterion Collection, THE BIG HEAT is presented in its correct theatrical aspect ratio of 1.37:1. This new 4K digital restoration was derived from the original 35mm camera negative along with a 35mm fine-grain master positive. The 4K UHD disc runs in Dolby Vision HDR, the Blu-ray version in HD SDR. All of the screen captures featured in this review were grabbed from the 4K disc. I think these images speak for themselves. This Criterion release benefits from a newly recorded audio commentary track by legendary film noir experts Alain Silver and James Ursini, the authors behind FILM NOIR: AN ENCYCLOPEDIC REFERENCE TO THE AMERICAN STYLE (The Overlook Press, 1979), one of the most oft-referenced books on my shelf. The historians consider Fritz Lang to be the most influential filmmaker in terms of film noir conventions. That is quite a statement considering genre achievements from the likes of Billy Wilder, Otto Preminger, Robert Siodmak, Anthony Mann and Jules Dassin. Silver and Ursini acknowledge the religious symbolism that comes up repeatedly throughout Lang's work, most apparent in THE BIG HEAT when Lieutenant Wilks washes his hands of the Thomas Duncan case, a gesture that recalls Pontius Pilate distancing himself from the crucifixion. Lang's depiction of corrupt politicians like Commissioner Higgins got him in trouble with The House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC). And while the authority of the Production Code Administration (PCA) was waning, Bannion getting others to do his dirty work for him was as much a function of the Code as anything else.

The separate Blu-ray disc houses a variety of new supplemental material, starting with "The Women of THE BIG HEAT" (28m 13s), narrated by film historian Farran Smith Nehme. According to the cinema of Fritz Lang, women often are the essential risk takers and it usually costs them dearly. Marginalized women assist Bannion in his noble quest whereas the apathetic male cops around him remain content with the way things are. "That's what we're all supposed to do, isn't it?" laments Bannion. Conversely, Lucy, Selma and Debby are anything but bystanders. Debby sacrifices her own life to bring down Lagana and his henchman Stone. Nehme notes that in fact a woman (Bertha Duncan) provides the narrative's impetus; it is Bertha's 3 AM call to Lagana that anticipates all ensuing violence.

The bonus material then shifts to vintage audio interview excerpts with Lang, the first conducted by film historian Gideon Bachmann (1956, 16m 8s). Lang left Germany soon after Adolf Hitler rose to power. Minister of Propaganda Joseph Goebbels wanted Lang to run the Reichsfilmkammer (The Reich Chamber of Film), which would have made him the most powerful man in the German film industry. The job offer prompted Lang to flee to Paris. After 10 months, he immigrated to the U.S. Little wonder his entire career Lang maintained interest in the concept of people caught in metaphorical nets. Whether trapped through their own actions or through no fault of their own, Lang felt it is what people do to extricate themselves that makes for great storytelling. The next audio interview excerpt with Lang is administered by filmmaker Peter Bogdanovich (1965, 6m 54s). Never interested in overly stylish visuals, Lang preferred more of a flat documentary look. He believed that approach to the subject invariably led to a more truthful narrative. And like so many influential filmmakers, Lang understood suggestive shock is without fail more effective than anything explicit.

Added supplements were recycled from the Columbia Pictures Film Noir Classics I DVD box set released in 2009, a collection I reviewed for VIDEO WATCHDOG (Issue #161, March / April 2011). In "Martin Scorsese on THE BIG HEAT" (2009, 5m 49s), the respected auteur who brought us such revisionist film noir classics as MEAN STREETS (1973), TAXI DRIVER (1976) and RAGING BULL (1980) observes the flatness of Lang’s cinematography, which encourages objective viewership. Scorsese also recognizes a key noir instance of fatalism when Vince Stone is scorched with hot coffee:  the source of burning-hot liquid is off-camera, as if the fatalistic noir universe itself were in control. With "Michael Mann on THE BIG HEAT" (2009, 10m 58s), the master of the neo-noir (THIEF [1981], MANHUNTER [1986], HEAT [1995]) notes that THE BIG HEAT both opens and closes with the assertiveness of the female. Mann connects this feminine trait with the progression of post-WWII American life, during which women were more willing to speak their minds than ever before. Apart from Bannion and the criminals, the average male citizen of Kenport is shown to be less self-confident than his female counterpart. This was not typical of filmmaking of the early 1950s. The elimination of the Katie Bannion character must have come as a surprise to audiences of that time as well (THE BIG HEAT predates PSYCHO [1960] by seven years). Also selectable is a trailer (1m 44s), and the packaging includes a booklet with the essay "Fate’s Network" by author Jonathan Lethem.

The Academy Film Archive preserved THE BIG HEAT in 1997, and the Fritz Lang noir classic was inducted into the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress in 2011.

HE WALKED BY NIGHT (1948)

Eagle-Lion Films, 79m 4s

My first encounter with HE WALKED BY NIGHT occurred during a theatrical screening of MENACE II SOCIETY (1993). As Caine (Tyrin Turner) recovers from a gunshot wound in a hospital in front of a television, he is captivated by a violent sequence in HE WALKED BY NIGHT ("How about my army discharge? I got it right here."). Whatever old B&W movie Caine was watching, I knew I had to track it down. At the time I was relatively new to the film noir category and had a lot of major titles in front of me. As a devoted noir fan today with countless hours logged, HE WALKED BY NIGHT still leaves an impression on me whenever I revisit it, partly due to the performance of Richard Basehart in the lead role as the criminal convinced he has the smarts to remain a step ahead of the manhunt orchestrated by determined cops. The equally compelling factor is acclaimed cinematographer John Alton's adroit camera angles and moody lighting that merge to emphasize the visual facets of the classic film noir.

A (mostly) true crime story that makes use of locations in and around Los Angeles, HE WALKED BY NIGHT really hits the ground running with its opening sequence. What appears to be a routine police stop suddenly erupts into the slaying of a police officer when Roy Martin (Basehart) opens fire on Officer Robert Rawlins (John McGuire, uncredited). Police Sergeant Marty Brennan (Scott Brady) and Police Sergeant Chuck Jones (James Cardwell) are assigned to the case with the helpful assistance of forensic specialist Lee Whitey (Jack Webb). The case proves to be a highly challenging one. Roy is shown to be technically proficient in electronics and uses radio equipment to listen in on police activity. To eke out a living, he has formed an alliance with Paul Reeves (Whit Bissell), to whom he sells modified stolen electronic gear.

The unequivocal work of cinematographer John Alton

The archetypal alienated noir protagonist, the gat-packing hoodlum Roy is a maladjusted war veteran who has demonstrated complete incompatibility with accepted societal norms of behavior. He lives in a modest Hollywood bungalow, where his dog accounts for his only companionship. Presented as a supremely dangerous individual from the outset, Roy possesses the temerity necessary to gun down a policeman (check out his crazed eyes when he shoots Officer Rawlins!). After Rawlins dies from his injuries, in another outburst of violence the cop killer Roy leaves Sergeant Jones in a state of paralysis. Technically savvy, informed about standard police procedures and willing to shift his modus operandi as required, Roy presents an unusual underworld figure for law enforcement figures to track.

Roy’s personality traits and quirks fit snugly into the pessimistic universe of film noir. Let's start with the alarmingly ironic plot point that he once worked for the LAPD as a civilian radio technician and thus gained insider knowledge of how law enforcement operates. Naturally, the police were reluctant to consider the possibility the criminal they seek could be one of them or have insider connections of some sort. Even more noir is the oddly eroticized scene in which Roy lovingly massages the electronic equipment he has prepared for sale. The implication is clear:  the loner criminal depends upon his crimes as a substitute for sexual release. Perhaps the most uniquely noir trait connected with Roy emerges when he performs bullet extraction surgery on himself. Though Roy is an obvious bad apple who must be contained, the filmmakers allow him a sense of humanity during this scene, which is framed and edited to encourage the viewer to root for him to get that nasty bullet out of his body. Such subjective moments are perfectly at home in the film noir, where those shunned by society are granted more texture than they might be allowed in other genres. Another staple noir quality is the theme of multiple personalities and/or identities, which adds a level of confusion to the police pursuit of Roy, known first to police as Roy Martin before his original name Roy Morgan is discovered. Multiple shots that feature Roy looking into a mirror emphasize tension harbored within a conflicted personality; the seemingly ordinary man capable of killing at any moment.

The background suggests the guillotine might await Roy

It does not get any more noir than this shot

As noted by film historian Imogen Sara Smith, Roy's scene of self surgery is
characteristic of exactly the sort of sequence Anthony Mann helmed -
particularly in his Westerns, the director had a fondness for closeups
of his perspiring characters in obvious pain

The noir underworld

Though assorted film noirs play out in suburban, rural or even open environments—consider THEY LIVE BY NIGHT (1948), ON DANGEROUS GROUND (1951), THE HITCH-HIKER (1953), CRY VENGEANCE (1954), THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER (1955) and NIGHTFALL (1957)—a much longer list could be curated for noirs that primarily unfold in sprawling urban environments. There is a certain practicality about that arrangement given the social problems that become amplified in a big city setting. The film noir delivery system often focuses on bothersome truths about city life, particularly for those who reside on the margins. Percolating problems and complex issues always have the potential to overwhelm the urban population with a vast possibility of combinations, i.e. income inequality, unemployment, overcrowding, segregation, traffic congestion, inadequate public services, pollution, decay, substance abuse and other addictions, corruption and above all else, crime. Such a milieu ostensibly calls for a dedicated police force of impeccable character and work ethic, law enforcement agents bound by a stable system of selfless beliefs. That assumption comes deeply embedded in the police procedural docudrama subgenre of film noir. HE WALKED BY NIGHT adheres to this tradition with the policeman as paragon of patience, his painstakingly tedious work sometimes unproductive. He must walk down many well-travelled paths in an urban landscape that offers limitless places for the criminal to take cover. The various languages spoken by area residents make police work even more demanding, then there are citizens who harbor irrational beliefs (i.e. the paranoid woman [Dorothy Adams, uncredited] who is convinced her milk is being poisoned). In the film noir city, few civilian problems are resolved easily.

Deep in the thicket of the film noir ecosystem lurks an inevitable force of retribution that accounts for sins of the past. This concept of fatalism is what unifies film noirs of many varieties. In HE WALKED BY NIGHT, the LAPD's steadfast dedication to public service dovetails nicely with the searing brand of film noir fatalism meant to restrain unwelcome transgressions like Roy. LA's massive storm sewer system designed to handle flash flooding provides the ideal environment for his containment, one steeped in noir irony. During his crime spree, the drainage system offers a helpful safety net for Roy, but ultimately that same underground arena assures his damnation via an inescapable police dragnet. This climactic segment of the film begins on a rooftop as Roy hides, runs and jumps en route to a sewer inlet. The sequence builds to imply the ultimately cornered noir protagonist has been reduced to animalistic impulses, as can be seen in other quintessential noirs like HIGH SIERRA (1941), THE SET-UP (1949), THE ASPHALT JUNGLE (1950), GUN CRAZY (1950), NIGHT AND THE CITY (1950) and perhaps most strikingly in PANIC IN THE STREETS (1950). The motif of rainwater is another major noir signifier, as certified by Paul Schrader in his essay “Notes on Film Noir” (FILM COMMENT, Spring, 1972). Schrader observes, "...rainfall tends to increase in direct proportion to the drama." How fitting that Roy should find himself drawn to the tunnel system designed to control excessive rainwater.

The fragmented noir protagonist

A production budgeted at just over $300K, HE WALKED BY NIGHT was a good earner for Eagle-Lion Films and producer Bryan Foy, a film industry veteran known as "the keeper of the B's" while employed at Warner Bros. After Warners shut down their B picture unit in 1942, Foy went to work for 20th Century Fox and then Universal Pictures before his stint at Eagle-Lion Films began in 1947. One of his assistant producers at Eagle-Lion was "Handsome Johnny" Roselli, who did time in the can for a scheme that involved the extortion of money from movie industry figures. Journeyman director Alfred L. Werker is not remembered as a great contributor to the film noir movement, though he did helm two other noirs of interest:  SHOCK (1946) and REPEAT PERFORMANCE (1947). The more stylistic sequences that punctuate HE WALKED BY NIGHT routinely are credited to Anthony Mann, whose actual contribution must be left to conjecture at the time of this writing due to lack of production records. What we do know is that Mann collaborated with cinematographer John Alton five other times with similar results:  T-MEN (1947), RAW DEAL (1948), REIGN OF TERROR (1949), BORDER INCIDENT (1949) and DEVIL'S DOORWAY (1950). The Mann/Alton partnership yielded an easily recognizable rhythmic pattern of angular lines, dramatic camera angles and clever interplay between light and darkness. So whenever low camera angles abound or shadows cast by venetian blinds imprison the condemned man, one senses the ingenuity of Mann/Alton. The sewer chase that concludes the narrative has been confirmed as the product of Mann's directing, but I wonder if Roy's initial descent into the vast drainage system was overseen by Mann as well. In any case, Roy sprinting through the huge storm sewer for the first time is a real showpiece, a hallmark of film noir imagery. There is an unquestionable sense of depth and dimension when Roy disappears into black nothingness. As his flashlight accents the area around him, darkness relentlessly follows. Mann also worked with co-screenwriter John C. Higgins on RAILROADED! (1947), T-MEN, RAW DEAL and BORDER INCIDENT. Co-screenwriter/original story creator Crane Wilbur's noir writing accomplishments include CANON CITY (1948), THE AMAZING MR. X (1948), CRIME WAVE (1953) and THE PHENIX CITY STORY (1955). HE WALKED BY NIGHT would mark Richard Basehart's breakthrough performance. His subsequent film noir credits include TENSION (1949), FOURTEEN HOURS (1951) and THE HOUSE ON TELEGRAPH HILL (1951), though film fans likely recall him best for his splendid role as the free-spirited Il matto in Federico Fellini's La strada (1954). HE WALKED BY NIGHT is narrated by Reed Hadley, "the voice of docunoir" as described by film historian Alan K. Rode. The noir narration credits of Hadley include THE HOUSE ON 92ND STREET (1945), 13 RUE MADELEINE (1947), BOOMERANG! (1947), T-MEN, CANON CITY (1948), WALK A CROOKED MILE (1948) and THE KILLER THAT STALKED NEW YORK (1950). Several film noirs that followed in the wake of HE WALKED BY NIGHT bear more than a passing resemblance, especially THE KILLER THAT STALKED NEW YORK, WITHOUT WARNING! (1952) and THE SNIPER (1952). It should also be mentioned the most influential docudrama film noir surely is THE NAKED CITY (1948), though visually Jules Dassin's film has more in common with the Italian Neorealism movement than the noir look epitomized by Alton.

All guns blazing

Expensive trial avoided

The inspiration for this review was provided by the Kino Lorber Studio Classics Blu-ray edition of HE WALKED BY NIGHT released last year. This dual-layered disc presents the film via a new HD master from a 16-bit 4K scan of the 35mm Fine Grain. Framed at the original theatrical aspect ratio of 1.37:1, this is the best the film has looked on home video to my eyes. Those considering this Blu-ray as an upgrade might be persuaded to take the plunge given the new audio commentary track recorded by film historian and author Imogen Sara Smith, who specializes in film noir. Smith considers HE WALKED BY NIGHT to be more police procedural than proper noir. The semidocumentary format was blueprinted at Twentieth Century Fox with titles such as THE HOUSE ON 92ND STREET, 13 RUE MADELEINE and BOOMERANG! setting the stage for a new subgenre. In light of the LAPD's containment of the menace embodied by Roy, she contends this type of crime movie meshed well with the Production Code of its time. What's more, Joseph Breen Jr., son of Production Code Administration leader Joseph Breen, was the conduit between Eagle-Lion Films and the PCA, so family ties did not hurt matters given some of the production's content. One of Smith's best observations involves the no-nonsense narration style employed by Reed Hadley. His approach on the mic is diametrically at odds with the narration of the prototypically doomed noir protagonist, i.e. DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), DETOUR (1945) and SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950). Smith also charts steady waters when she notes the healthiest film noir specimens highlight flawed, even dirty cops, the likes of which have no place in the police world suggested in procedural films like HE WALKED BY NIGHT. Moreover, the classic noir exercise flexes the notion that anyone can become a criminal under certain circumstances. Another exceptionally non-noir quality is the lack of moral ambiguity, which provides a cynical dimension to so many noir films. True enough, that theme gives unity to genre classics such as OUT OF THE PAST (1947), THE ASPHALT JUNGLE, NIGHT AND THE CITY and THE BIG HEAT (1953). HE WALKED BY NIGHT is at its most noir according to Smith during the climactic storm sewer chase, a noir labyrinth that leads to a dead end for the doomed protagonist. Smith and I differ only when she advances the notion that film noir is not a genre, but rather a style, cycle, etc. Like a money-making movie monster, that tired old theory just refuses to die.

Also selectable is the audio commentary track that pairs author/film historian Alan K. Rode with writer/film historian Julie Kirgo, recorded for the Classicflix Blu-ray edition released in 2017. This track is more conversational in tone than the scripted approach favored by Imogen Sara Smith. An early incarnation of the "RIPPED FROM THE HEADLINES!" method of genre filmmaking, HE WALKED BY NIGHT was based upon the real-life 1946 crime spree of William Erwin Walker, also known as Erwin M. Walker and Machine Gun Walker. Per Rode, the script rearranges the order of events associated with Walker's crimes. Importantly, Rode notes Walker just had to be a PTSD case considering the tragic circumstances of his service as a second lieutenant in the U.S. Army. The World War II veteran was in charge of a radar detachment at Leyte Island in the Philippines. One day Walker returned to his ship per orders. When he returned to the radar site the next day, he learned that an elite Japanese Army paratroop unit had attacked the radar site at sunrise. His best friend John Brake was bayoneted in the neck and disemboweled. Remarkably, Brake managed to survive, but all other members of the unit, all under Walker's charge, were killed brutally and sadistically. No doubt Walker was plagued by survivor's guilt. Walker later worked as a radio operator and police dispatcher for the Glendale Police Department. The film's technical advisor Marty Wynn was one of the detectives who arrested Walker (Wynn also appears briefly in an uncredited role as a police sergeant). Jack Webb meeting Wynn on the set proved to be a catalyst in the development of the DRAGNET radio series (1949–1957) and subsequent television series (1951–1959). Alfred L. Werker directed the bulk of HE WALKED BY NIGHT according to Rode, who is keenly aware of stock footage on display that pops up in a large number of genre films. Rode correctly points out that civil rights are violated routinely during this film and in so many others when policemen go into suspect apprehension mode. And leave it to Rode to recognize the villain's loyal Border Collie would later serve as Rembrandt at the side of Eleanor Johnson (Ann Sheridan) in the film noir WOMAN ON THE RUN (1950). An excellent observation by Kirgo is that the attempt to construct a composite sketch of the criminal as organized by Police Captain Breen (Roy Roberts) serves as a metaphor for the killer's fragmented personality. Kirgo also reminds us the climactic chase through the gargantuan storm sewer predates director Carol Reed's THE THIRD MAN (1949). And based on his sources, Rode assures us Mann should be credited for directing the exciting chase sequence through LA's underground storm sewer.

For the record, William Erwin Walker fared better than his screen counterpart portrayed by Richard Basehart. Walker was paroled in 1974 and lived a quiet life until his death in 2008.

Film Noir Final Four (Tournament Bracket)

This was a fun exercise. I took my top 64 film noirs and seeded them, then let them "play." Each winner was whichever film I would prefer to watch between the two. Thus there were some "upsets."

This link will take you to my Google Sheet:  Film Noir Final Four. I got the idea from someone on Facebook who had done the same with their favorite TWILIGHT ZONE episodes.

PURSUED (1947)

Warner Bros., 101m 20s

By the year 1947, the film noir was in full stride. Some of the most important and technically accomplished expressions of the genre were released that year, including BODY AND SOUL, BRUTE FORCE, CROSSFIRE, KISS OF DEATH, THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI, NIGHTMARE ALLEY, OUT OF THE PAST, RIDE THE PINK HORSE and T-MEN. The genre certainly includes enough quality films to continue the list further. So entrenched was the noir film by the late 1940s, the genre's well-defined elements began to merge with another popular genre:  the Western. Such cross-genre examples of the period include RAMROD (1947), BLOOD ON THE MOON (1948) and STATION WEST (1948). Perhaps the best-known instance of the noir Western is PURSUED, a vengeance story often cited as the first manifestation of this interesting genre hybrid. With its intense psychological drama deeply entrenched in fatalism, PURSUED confirms that film noir conditions need not be limited to modern urban locations.

Set in the territory of New Mexico, the majority of the story is told through flashbacks, a cinematic technique frequently employed to emphasize the dominance of the past over the present in noir narratives. Jeb Rand (Robert Mitchum) is controlled by a past trauma he cannot comprehend or recollect clearly. As a young boy, Jeb's entire family was slaughtered at home while he hid in the cellar. Now a grown man, the tortured soul Jeb wishes to assemble his origin story, but his head hurts when he thinks about it. The recurring image that impacts him most is that of cowboy boots with spurs in frantic motion. Jeb's repressed memory of his family's violent elimination drives all of the narrative's major conflicts.

The tortured psyche of a young Jeb Rand is emphasized in this dissolve

The toss of a coin determines Jeb Rand's future on multiple occasions

The dark undertones of the film noir family:
sexual tensions complicate the brother/sister
relationship between Jeb Rand and Thor Callum

A familiar film noir trope is the notion that the sanctity of the traditional American family is in jeopardy, and the details that emerge in regard to the massacre of the Rand family are absolutely noir in nature. Jeb is claimed by a new family when Mrs. Callum (Judith Anderson) decides to raise him along with her daughter Thorley "Thor" Callum (Teresa Wright) and son Adam Callum (John Rodney). Jeb's ersatz family comes with its own complexities, not to mention a noir sense of fate well symbolized by two coin tosses, each lost by Jeb. The first causes him to fight in the Spanish–American War, the second prompts him to leave Mrs. Callum's ranch, his home since childhood. Film noir undercurrents take hold of the Callum property in earnest when Jeb and Thor fall in love after having been raised as brother and sister! The noir mood gets darker from there when Jeb kills (in self-defense) the man raised as his brother (Adam). At the narrative's resolution, it is revealed a home-wrecking love affair set about the destruction of the Rand family and the prolonged family feud that followed. In perhaps the most fatalistic of film noir dynamics, Jeb is drawn to the location where tragedy occurred so many years ago, which brings a sense of unshakable destiny to the material. Even in a genre awash with adulterous couples and less-than-ideal marriages that infiltrate benchmark film noirs like DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), MILDRED PIERCE (1945), GILDA (1946), THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS (1946), GUN CRAZY (1950) and ANGEL FACE (1953), the fabric of family life in PURSUED is enough to make one want to take a shower after the credits roll.

The low camera angle associated with the noir style

An arranged confrontation

Shadows that signify an unknown past continue to weigh heavy on Jeb

The alienated main protagonist is something of a given in the typical film noir, especially those titles that are best remembered and commonly referenced. Consider the detached men who inhabit THE MALTESE FALCON (1941), DETOUR (1945), SCARLET STREET (1945), OUT OF THE PAST (1947), D.O.A. (1950), THE ASPHALT JUNGLE (1950), NIGHT AND THE CITY (1950), SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950) and KISS ME DEADLY (1955). Much like the major characters of these famous noir stories, Jeb is an outsider. He has no remaining ties to his biological family, nor does he mesh perfectly with his replacement family. Internal conflict has accompanied him since the dramatic childhood event that cruelly altered his life.

A related genre motif often connected to the noir figure's lack of belonging is some form of physical disability. The challenge faced by the veteran in his attempt to re-enter civilian life is given emphasis when Jeb walks with a cane after his heroic return from wartime service. Despite the hero's welcome, Jeb continues to struggle with finding his proper place. An even better instance of the physically wounded noir character is embodied by Grant Callum (Dean Jagger) who loses him arm thanks to his role in the gunfight that wrecks the Rand family. Driven only by vengeance and a family feud that only he seems intent on continuing, Grant is perhaps more out of place in the world than Jeb.

The role of women in PURSUED also draws from recurring film noir sensibilities, not the gender simplicities of the classic Western with its schoolmarms and dancehall girls. Both family matriarch and troublemaking whore, Mrs. Callum stands as the definition of moral ambiguity, though ultimately she proves her worth with timely use of the Western's most iconic weapon. And in an early scene, she upholds the generally Marxist notions of film noir when she explains to her children they should share everything equally. As her children mature to adulthood, Adam rejects that notion. Mrs. Callum's daughter Thor also signifies a duality of woman, both sister and wife of Jeb Rand, potentially a nurturing woman yet just about capable of mariticide.

The noir wedding. Nobody looks happy, and for good reason

The bride in white, surrounded by black

Til death do us part...

With 52 years of experience directing films, storied filmmaker Raoul Walsh is an example of someone who successfully navigated his career from the silent era into sound. After PURSUED, just two years later he put his directorial stamp on another cross-genre classic:  the gangster noir film WHITE HEAT (1949). Director of photography James Wong Howe, another Hollywood legend, enjoyed a career of roughly identical length to that of Walsh. The same year PURSUED was released, Howe also handled the cinematography for NORA PRENTISS and BODY AND SOUL, both immersive film noir productions. Screenwriter Niven Busch was married to lead actress Teresa Wright at the time of production. She remains the only actress in Hollywood history to receive Academy Award nominations for her first three roles:  THE LITTLE FOXES (1941), MRS. MINIVER (1942) and THE PRIDE OF THE YANKEES (1942). She won the Best Actress in a Supporting Role Academy Award for MRS. MINIVER.

Right-to-left movement signifies backward momentum,
in this case back to the shot that was taken at Jeb Rand when he was a youth

Now headed to the right, Jeb will finally come to terms with his past

A narrow passage implies oppressive noir forces remain in play...

...but Jeb possesses the capacity to emerge from such forces
(in the form of Mitchum's double in this shot)

Derived from a 4K scan of the original 35mm camera negative via Paramount Pictures, the dual-layered Blu-ray edition of PURSUED released earlier this year by Kino Lorber is framed at 1.37:1 and looks handsome enough. Only a minimum of artifacts caught my notice. The level of film grain is moderate. In a vintage introductory segment by Martin Scorsese (2m 37s), recorded for a prior home video edition of the film that as far as I know never materialized, the auteur considers PURSUED the first film noir Western with its amalgamation of the Western's traditional conflicts and the noir film's more intricate moral ambiguities. The Kino Lorber disc boasts a newly recorded audio commentary track by estimable film scholar Imogen Sara Smith, who always shows up reliably prepared for a commentary assignment. The author of IN LONELY PLACES: FILM NOIR BEYOND THE CITY (McFarland & Company, Inc., 2011) is well suited to discuss the "haunted landscape" of the noir West on display in the title under review. A commercially successful film, PURSUED launched the trend of the psychological Western, although Smith considers director André De Toth's RAMROD to be another contender for the distinction of first noir Western (it was screened in the US two weeks prior to PURSUED). Smith spends a fair amount of time on the noir persona of the sleepy-eyed Robert Mitchum, an actor who seems uniquely qualified to portray the passive lead protagonist of PURSUED. Never an actor who was overly impressed with his profession, Mitchum thought of himself as a tradesman going from paycheck to paycheck, no different than an assembly line worker. His fatalistic hero Jeb is not a proactive personality by any means; things happen to him and he either reacts or doesn't react. Jeb's general feeling of displacement is a good match for director Raoul Walsh, whose out-of-place featured protagonists have outlived their time in THE ROARING TWENTIES (1939) and HIGH SIERRA (1940). Smith points out a flaw in the narrative common to films with flashback structures:  there are moments in the flashbacks during which Jeb was not present and thus could have no memory of the event. And thanks to Smith's commentary track, I am now aware Mitchum's singing voice was recorded on two albums:  CALYPSO – IS LIKE SO... (Capitol Records, 1957) and THAT MAN, ROBERT MITCHUM, SINGS (Monument Records, 1967). Both albums are available on Apple Music and Spotify at the time of this writing.

A collection of (12) trailers completes the Blu-ray's supplemental material.