CAUSE FOR ALARM! (1951)

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, 74m 45s

Behind the white picket fence of suburban tranquility lies a fractured marriage in CAUSE FOR ALARM!, a longtime favorite programmer-length film noir of mine. Led by director Tay Garnett, the creative team synthesizes the woman's picture with film noir mechanics, in particular the "downward spiral" theme so prevalent in noir formulas. Our lead protagonist falls deeper and deeper into trouble through no apparent fault of her own, other than perhaps having fallen in love too quickly. But other than her disastrous selection of a husband, there is no evidence offered the good-natured lead protagonist deserves to endure such a veritable noir shitstorm.

The grasp of film noir sometimes reaches beyond its traditional urban environment to wreak havoc on the heart of suburbia, in this case at a home located in a seemingly idyllic Los Angeles neighborhood. As the film noir fan has been calibrated to expect, the misaligned couple that resides there is out of step with the stable sense of community suggested by the handsome homes and well-manicured front yards. Routinized housewife Ellen Jones (Loretta Young, top-billed) is an upbeat but somewhat frustrated woman trapped in a dispiriting marriage to George Z. Jones (Barry Sullivan), a bedridden man with a heart condition. For reasons never made entirely clear, George has slipped into a deep state of despondency. He wrongly believes his wife is planning to run off with Dr. Ranney Grahame (Bruce Cowling), his old friend and family physician, after the two get rid of him. George expresses his misguided thoughts in writing to the local district attorney and tricks his wife into mailing the letter. Ellen learns of the letter's content just before her husband drops dead. Faced with a probable prison sentence, Ellen is determined to retrieve the letter by any means necessary.

This means not welcome

Diary of a madman

Recollections of a better time

As the narrative unfolds, the hot July temperature has its impact on the townspeople, who make reference to the devastating heat from time to time. It is safe to assume the heat affects nobody more than George, who embodies the antithesis of healthy male vitality. His relationship with his wife has eroded thanks to his excessive jealousy and wrongheaded suspicions. Film noirs that revolve around jealousy are numerous:  consider LAURA (1944), LEAVE HER TO HEAVEN (1945), GILDA (1946), THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE (1946), POSSESSED (1947) and SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950), just to name a few. Locked inside an irredeemable marriage with no breathing room, Ellen inhabits a household torn asunder by endless conflict instigated by George.

"...a man wrapped up in himself makes a very small package."
—Aunt Clara Edwards (Margalo Gillmore)

The burden of masculinity is a heavy weight on the narrow shoulders of George, whose porcelain state of mind exacerbates his heart condition. He embodies the archetypal fallen veteran displaced since the conclusion of World War II. That character type is well traveled within the framework of the film noir, on record in THE BLUE DAHLIA (1946), CROSSFIRE (1947), RIDE THE PINK HORSE (1947), ACT OF VIOLENCE (1948), THE CLAY PIGEON (1949), THE CROOKED WAY (1949), SOMEWHERE IN THE NIGHT (1946), THE SNIPER (1952) and THE KILLER IS LOOSE (1956). Certainly the embittered George is a lesser man than he was at wartime, when he served as a Navy pilot. Now he is psychologically defeated and socially incapacitated, an irritable portrait of stubborn male attitudes. Aunt Clara even comments that George had issues before he met Ellen, which seems to absolve Ellen from any blame for her husband's disturbing decline. Dr. Grahame believes George would benefit from a session or two with a psychiatrist. Given George's endlessly brooding frame of mind, it is tough to argue with that contention. He is persistently callous in all communication toward his wife and downright creepy when he tells her a story about beating another kid when he was a boy. George makes it all too apparent she might be in for the identical treatment; he would rather destroy his wife than cede her to Dr. Grahame. In an unnerving punctuation of his dark memories, George threatens Ellen while he touches her throat! Later he declares he will kill the wife he has (erroneously) determined to be faithless. George's paranoid jealousy even extends to the neighborhood kid Billy, AKA "Hoppy" (Brad Morrow). Mostly confined to his bed (though he can move around when it suits him), the irascible, worthless husband George does not trust anyone.

In terms of the unlikable invalid noir personality, George shares an obvious kinship with Barbara Stanwyck's detestable Leona Stevenson from SORRY, WRONG NUMBER (1948). But there are many instances of male film noir characters who are in some way rendered immobile, i.e. THE GLASS KEY (1942), DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), THE BIG SLEEP (1946), KEY LARGO (1948), ACT OF VIOLENCE, CRISS CROSS (1949), HOUSE BY THE RIVER (1950), THE BIG COMBO (1955), TOUCH OF EVIL (1958). Such characters obviously reflect historical realities. Many of our veterans returned from combat with irreversible physical damage. With his frequently hostile outbursts, George reminds us that psychological issues were part of the equation as well and might in fact have been worse than anything physical our soldiers experienced. An unpleasant side effect of this sort of drama causes the viewer to wonder what the filmmakers think of our veterans in general. George debases himself whenever he opens his mouth, so much so that when his heart finally gives up on him, one feels a sense of relief, not sympathy. His inability to muster up the strength to gun down his wife before he expires is kind of pathetic, a gutless account of an ex-soldier with nothing left to offer humanity. I suppose the limitations of the B film are at least in part responsible for this treatment; perhaps a 90-minute film might have offered a more layered version of George, whose death might have had some tragic implications.

I'd wanna marry her too

Awww, how cute

A bewildered Ellen in front of a paranoiac

Other male characters who populate CAUSE FOR ALARM! reinforce various masculine stereotypes as required to confirm our allegiance to Ellen. The postal carrier Joe Carston (Irving Bacon) is the dutiful public servant who will talk at length to anyone whose ear he can bend. He also constitutes male fragility as he complains at length about his tough lot in life. Joe also stands for the rigidity of bureaucratic systems such as the United States Postal Service. The USPS superintendent (Art Baker) validates the importance of the system over sympathetic individuals like Ellen, who deserve more flexibility under the circumstances than the system can offer. The local druggist Mr. Phillips (Louis Merrill, uncredited) is suspicious of Ellen (George accidentally spilled his last prescription; Ellen had nothing to do with the sudden need for more drugs), and so is Mr. Russell (Don Haggerty), a notary whose afternoon visit catches Ellen off guard. Then we have the distinctly male conviction of the handgun as universal problem solver.

If the unstable, displaced veteran George personifies an archetypal noir character, Ellen also represents a signature noir staple:  the woman in distress. A persona that emerges in different forms, such a woman might be a simple character of limited texture or a more complex figure. With varying degrees of anxiousness, vulnerability and culpability, variations of this female archetype can be witnessed in DANGER SIGNAL (1945), MILDRED PIERCE (1945), NOTORIOUS (1946), SORRY, WRONG NUMBER, THE ACCUSED (1949, also starring Loretta Young), MANHANDLED (1949), THE RECKLESS MOMENT (1949), WHIRLPOOL (1949), IN A LONELY PLACE (1950), WOMAN IN HIDING (1950), THE HOUSE ON TELEGRAPH HILL (1951), SUDDEN FEAR (1952), THE BIG HEAT (1953), THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER (1955) and TOUCH OF EVIL. Stuck with a husband with whom it is impossible to reason or even converse, Ellen earns a special place among these imperiled noir women. When she is introduced during the film's opening sequence, the Midwest gal Ellen appears as devoted to her troubled marriage as one could wish, despite her mild disappointment children are not yet part of the equation. The plot mechanics lunge forward mostly through husband-induced traumas experienced by Ellen. Despite the presence of an increasingly irrational George, Ellen maintains a sense of loyalty to her abrasive husband. Other women on the scene exist largely to strengthen our sympathies for Ellen. There is the buttinsky neighbor Mrs. Warren (Georgia Backus), her eyes always wide open to anything unusual, along with Aunt Clara, an endless talker who neither Ellen nor George are excited to welcome.

Full-on breakdown mode

Somebody somewhere is out to get me

Please stop

Ellen questions her circumstances via narration, a customary storytelling device utilized frequently in film noir exercises. Her narration dovetails nicely with a flashback that helps explain her present-day existence in which she questions her union to George while she tries to cling to optimistic thoughts. From a practical point of view, especially for a B film of limited runtime, the flashback allows filmmakers to cover a lot of ground quickly, in this case why a nice woman like Ellen got hooked up with a headcase like George. During WWII, Ellen worked as a nurse at a naval hospital, where she first encountered George, a friend of Dr. Grahame's. Before the couple-to-be even met, a warning shot was fired when George commented that women derive pleasure from "...shoving a man around." Even more tellingly, the relationship between Ellen and George got started via deception as George played the role of patient in need of a nurse's care. After a problematically brief courtship, Ellen ended up married to George. This is where the flashback becomes something beyond a way to expedite the plot in this film noir and many others:  it is impressed upon the viewer that Ellen's marital difficulties are grounded in the past, a notion that informs many of the most significant noirs. The assumption that unsolvable problems are rooted in past events that cannot be undone makes the film noir the most pessimistic of Hollywood genres. What makes the genre darker still is the strong sense of fatalism that energizes the majority of noir narratives. Given the structure of CAUSE FOR ALARM!, one is left with the impression it was fate that led Ellen to George, not bad luck. That explanation is given credence during the flashback segment, when Ellen admitted to Dr. Grahame she had no way of knowing for certain if George was the right man for her. She described her attraction to George in emotional terms beyond her control:  "...it's just something you feel...you can't do anything about it."

If the random nature of the noir universe brings Ellen and George together, an atmosphere rich in irony emphasizes their fatalistic connection. In perhaps the best example, years after George playfully pretended to be in need of Ellen's nursing, she eventually does have to care for George the sickly husband. Interestingly, George's concerns about his wife's loyalty are not completely without merit. Before he laid eyes on Ellen, Dr. Grahame expressed hopes of developing a relationship with her, though he seemed to agree with her assumption that his attentiveness to countless war-related injuries prohibited a courtship of any kind (that scenario indeed played out in a scene at the beach). That point notwithstanding, Ellen seemed unaware of how disappointed Ranney was in her long-term choice of his friend George. With the film's restorative conclusion comes the ultimate irony that cruelly mocks George:  his letter of condemnation is returned for insufficient postage! So much for the power of the patriarchal system.

An ill-fated marriage about to go up in smoke

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

CAUSE FOR ALARM! was shot in two weeks. Location footage was captured on residential side streets near Melrose Avenue in Hollywood. US and Canadian box office receipts totaled $518,000, along with $250,000 in other territories. The end result was a loss for MGM, a shame considering how well the film holds up after so many years. Director Tay Garnett (THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE, THE RACKET [1951]) brings nothing stylish to the production, which always is stated with economy, but he does imbue the narrative with palpable tension and a punchy sense of rhythm ideal for a film of this length. As one might expect, it appears most of the setups were conceived with the goal of making the production's female star look attractive. The unadorned cinematography by Joseph Ruttenberg (GASLIGHT [1944], KILLER MCCOY [1947], SIDE STREET [1949]) reflects the filmmaking industry's transition to authenticity and realism that would distinguish the 1950s noir movement from the more expressionistic look that characterized the noir film of the 1940s. Co-screenwriter Mel Dinelli was something of a specialist when it came to women and children in jeopardy; the first three films to his credit were THE SPIRAL STAIRCASE (1946), THE WINDOW (1949) and THE RECKLESS MOMENT. Co-screenwriter and producer Tom Lewis was married to Loretta Young at the time of production. The source material was the radio play by Lawrence B. Marcus. Warner Bros. spoofed the title with "Claws for Alarm" (1954), one of the very best Merrie Melodies cartoon shorts.

Released earlier this year by ClassicFlix, CAUSE FOR ALARM! finally made its Blu-ray debut in a newly restored edition worthy of the film noir fan's investment. The presentation begins with this note about the restoration:

The difference in source material is evident at times but not overly distracting. Minor scratches are minimally invasive and the level of film grain looks appropriate to my eye. Contrast is solid.

An original theatrical trailer (2m 1s) is selectable, along with trailers for five other titles available from ClassicFlix.

THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET (1944)

Paramount Pictures, 92m 24s

One of the more obscure Hollywood productions to cover the topic of immortality, THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET made its official worldwide home video debut late in 2023. As marketed by boutique label Imprint, this cross-genre specimen incorporates both science fiction and film noir genre tropes. Frankenstein noir might sound like a winning combination, though to be honest I do not admire this title as much as I wish I did. Suspense comes in oddly small doses based upon the sensational subject matter; the plot summary on hand at Turner Classic Movies [SYNOPSIS] suggests more emotional heft than the film ultimately can provide. My disappointment notwithstanding, THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET offers solid production value, takes established genre tropes seriously and features actress Helen Walker, a name that should make film noir fans sit up straight. Still available as of this writing, the Imprint Blu-ray promises long-term collector value with its production limit of 1500 units.

Our preservation of youth story is set in London during the mid-1920s within a regimented society of class privilege. The featured protagonist is Dr. Julian Karell (Nils Asther), an amoral man with an eternal life mindset. A scientist with a penchant for painting portraits, his canvas depiction of Eve Brandon (Helen Walker) looks suspiciously like the work of an artist who was active a half-century ago according to a guest at the home of Sir Humphrey Brandon (Edmund Breon), Eve's father. Stranger still, Lady Minerva Aldergate (Aminta Dyne, uncredited) converses with Julian and recalls an affair she had with a man who could have been—must have been—Julian's grandfather. Julian would like to marry Eve, but first must endeavor to retain his appearance. He is 90 years old but claims he is 35 (actor Nils Asther was in his late forties at the time of the film's production and looks to be in exactly that age bracket). Julian's modified presentation of himself requires the surgical transfer of suprarenal glands from another human being every 10 years, which is to say a decennial murder is necessary to prolong his bid for immortality. He seems to have found his next guinea pig in the form of Alan Guthrie (Morton Lowry), a troubled young medical student with a gambling addiction, the sort of fellow that might go unmissed if he disappeared. Julian prevents Alan's suicide attempt and convinces him to participate in private scientific experiments, but the slightly belated arrival of endocrinologist and surgeon Dr. Kurt van Bruecken (Reinhold Schünzel) amounts to a huge setback. Julian recognizes Kurt no longer has the capacity to perform the 10-year surgeries on Julian as has become tradition since 1865. Kurt is actually younger than Julian, yet appears dramatically older as he hobbles about in an obvious state of decline. Despite the unforgiving encroachments of the aging process, Kurt's mind remains sharp as he admonishes Julian for arrogantly marching down the wrong path. Kurt is energized by a moral compass that Julian lacks.

After many years of practice...

A little too familiar?

"Men like us must always walk alone."

—Dr. Kurt van Bruecken

Though undoubtedly a science fiction film first and a film noir second, THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET possesses an indisputable noir soul. This Paramount title can be contextualized as dead-man-walking noir. As Julian witnesses his options to maintain his youthfulness disintegrating, the walking dead theme stands out as the most prominent of any of the film's themes and motifs. The walking dead man is one of the most unambiguous of film noir tropes, as emphasized repeatedly in DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), the most influential of all noir films in terms of prevailing themes. The walking dead man would wander through a wide assortment of important noir films that would follow DOUBLE INDEMNITY, as seen in SCARLET STREET (1945), THE DARK CORNER (1946), DECOY (1946), THE KILLERS (1946), OUT OF THE PAST (1947), RIDE THE PINK HORSE (1947), ACT OF VIOLENCE (1948), ASPHALT JUNGLE (1950), D.O.A. (1950), NIGHT AND THE CITY (1950), SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950) and TOUCH OF EVIL (1958).

A noirish night

The juice of life

A vivid illustration of the alienated noir protagonist, Julian has survived for decades as an outcast and criminal. His sense of displacement is grounded in the reality that he cannot live in the real world as an ageless man forever. Thus his sense of alienation is self-imposed, forever connected to the selfish choices he has made. The woman he would like to marry comes with a reminder of the impossibility of keeping his immortality quest a secret. A ladyfriend of any significance does not correspond well with such a plan; Kurt reminds Julian a woman could never be in the cards for such men of science. How can a man maintain a relationship with a woman if she ages normally and he remains the same age? Indeed Julian's interest in a woman sets his downfall in motion. That places Eve among the most unwilling and unaware of film noir femme fatales to bring about a man's downward spiral. She is both the cure for his lack of belonging and the catalyst for his destruction. If Julian's relationship with Eve amounts to an insurmountable long-term impracticality, then a traditional family life is an absolute non-starter. That theme comes deeply embedded in many films noir, characterized by suspect family values and downright hopeless marriages to be found in DOUBLE INDEMNITY, THE SUSPECT (1944), SCARLET STREET, MILDRED PIERCE (1945), THE STRANGE AFFAIR OF UNCLE HARRY (1945), THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS (1946), ALL MY SONS (1948), SORRY, WRONG NUMBER (1948), WHIRLPOOL (1949) and GUN CRAZY (1950).

"All we are fated to learn we know already."

—Dr. Kurt van Bruecken

The film noir often is distinguished by a fixation on past events that cannot be undone, choices made in the past that prevent the major protagonist from moving forward in a positive way. It is not unusual to find evidence of that theme within noir title treatments, i.e. CORNERED (1945), OUT OF THE PAST (1947), THEY WON'T BELIEVE ME (1947), THE DARK PAST (1948), ABANDONED (1949), THE RECKLESS MOMENT (1949), TOO LATE FOR TEARS (1949), TRAPPED (1949), NO WAY OUT (1950), ODDS AGAINST TOMORROW (1959). A closely related noir theme involves idealized images that embody an irretrievable past. How fitting that Julian enjoys painting portraits as a hobbyist, since the portrait is meant to preserve a moment in time. From the moment a portrait is completed, it represents a past that cannot be restored. As such, his artistic endeavors are at odds with the prospect of immortality. On another level, could the subject of the painting ever live up to Julian's expectations? Recall Mark McPherson (Dana Andrews) falling for the framed woman in LAURA (1944). One wonders if Julian fell in love with Eve or her idealized, ageless likeness. Indeed his marriage proposal comes only after the unveiling of her portrait. Or maybe Julian's fondness for Eve and her inquisitive nature is best explained as fate. An atmosphere rich in fatalism is perhaps the purest of all film noir tropes, the support structure that gives rise to narratives engulfed in bitterness and cynicism like DETOUR (1945), SHOCK (1946), THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI (1947), REPEAT PERFORMANCE (1947), CRISS CROSS (1949), ANGEL FACE (1952) and THE KILLING (1956). Another related and crucial component of the noir equation is irony. One of the deep ironies at work in THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET is that a discredited surgeon like Dr. B.A. Vishanoff (Konstantin Shayne, uncredited) is necessary to continue Julian's life, a respected man like Dr. Henry Latimer (Paul Cavanagh) can be of no assistance. Deep in the noir underworld, sometimes the unprincipled social pariah is of more value than the man of integrity.

Kurt and Julian as pioneering men of science —
an idealized past that no longer exists

Youthful vanity versus aging frailty

The dead next door

The Thames gives up its dead

A tale of two paintings

Admittedly THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET does not adhere to all film noir traditions, especially in terms of what noir expert Eddie Muller calls "the break;" that moment when the lead character considers the moral choice and then decides against it. That milestone marks a major turning point in the life of the protagonist, who possesses at least some moral fiber to find himself at a moment of internal debate. If Julian ever had a moment like that, it must have occurred long ago. As he desperately schemes toward another life-extending surgery, his motivations are completely egocentric. Julian is concerned only about the preservation of his deceitful image, not the overall benefit to mankind his colleague Kurt had sought. Julian has more in common with the crazed noir psychos of the 1950s than the average people of 1940s noir who make bad decisions or trip over some rotten luck. Julian's obsession with self-preservation anticipates the misguided villainy that would invade film noirs like GUN CRAZY, SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950), ANGEL FACE, THE SNIPER (1952), THE HITCH-HIKER (1953), THE NIGHT OF THE HUNTER (1955) and A KISS BEFORE DYING (1956).

Going downhill fast!

THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET is rooted in Barré Lyndon's 1939 West End play. Screenwriter Charles Kenyon had extensive writing credits in the 1920s and 1930s, and Garrett Fort, credited with the adaptation, contributed to DRACULA (1931, play), FRANKENSTEIN (1931, co-screenwriter), DRACULA'S DAUGHTER (1936, screenwriter), THE DEVIL-DOLL (1936, co-screenwriter) and AMONG THE LIVING (1941, co-screenwriter). As directed by Ralph Murphy, this adaptation views a little stagy in terms of coverage, with the level of intrigue kept to a frustrating minimum. The London setting fits this cross-genre exercise well, the fog of noir well captured on Hollywood soundstages by Henry Sharp, who also was responsible for the cinematography of some of film noir's more unrenowned entries such as JEALOUSY (1945), THE GUILTY (1947), HIGH TIDE (1947) and VIOLENCE (1947). My favorite visual conceit is the glowing elixir in the lab, which obviously recalls the mysterious glass of milk homme fatal Johnnie Aysgarth (Cary Grant) carried up the stairway in Alfred Hitchcock's SUSPICION (1941). I also like the imprisoning shadows that accompany the arrival of Julian's houseguest Alan, who would have been better off had he been left to drown. The impressive score was the work of Miklós Rózsa, who also composed the music for DOUBLE INDEMNITY, THE LOST WEEKEND (1945) and SPELLBOUND (1945).

Helen Walker's life story would provide immense subject matter for a lengthy biopic. The talented and uniquely attractive actress's career went off track irrevocably on New Year's Eve of 1946 after she picked up a trio of World War II veterans. A horrific accident killed one of her passengers and left everyone else with injuries. The men who survived said she was driving under the influence, recklessly at that. Though acquitted, she garnered a lot of negative press, which hurt her reputation. Her tarnished public image left her well suited to play femme fatales in noir films such as NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947) and IMPACT (1949). She also appeared in CALL NORTHSIDE 777 (1948) and THE BIG COMBO (1955). In 1968 she died of cancer. She was only 47.

This region-free, single-layered Blu-ray edition of THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET released by Imprint is the product of a fresh 2K scan. Framed at 1.37:1, the film looks respectable enough in motion, with scratches and artifacts infrequent and not at all distracting. A welcome supplement, and an appropriate reason to invest in this disc, is the audio commentary track by seasoned film historian Tim Lucas, who recognizes THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET as the last of Paramount's horror/sci-fi releases of the 1940s. He correctly notes the quality of Paramount genre product was a notch above what was churned out over at Universal in terms of production value, actor performances and layers of subtext. This genre film owes an obvious debt to Robert Louis Stevenson's 1886 Gothic novella STRANGE CASE OF DR JEKYLL AND MR HYDE and the screen versions it had inspired up to that point:  Paramount's DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE (1920) and (1931), as well as Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's interpretation (1941). Lucas also covers relevant films that broach the subject of immortality that preceded or followed THE MAN IN HALF MOON STREET, including SHE (1935), THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY (1945) and THE WASP WOMAN (1959). He also mentions episodes of THE TWILIGHT ZONE that revolved around immortality and everlasting youth such as “Walking Distance” (October 30, 1959), “Long Live Walter Jameson” (March 18, 1960), “Kick the Can” (February 9, 1962) and “Queen of the Nile” (March 6, 1964). The character Dr. Julian Karell was inspired by French surgeon and biologist Alexis Carrel, a pioneer in vascular suturing techniques, organ transplantation and thoracic surgery. Lucas points out that Dr. Julian Karell was much more of a sadist in the stage version of the story; in the play Julian preys upon youths and disposes of them in acid after he is through with them. Lucas also calls attention to the homoerotic subtext between Julian and his suitable glands donor Alan (Morton Lowry appeared in THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY later the same year). Homoerotic themes are prevalent in some of the most significant of noir productions, including THE MALTESE FALCON (1941), THE GLASS KEY (1942), GILDA (1946), THE BIG CLOCK (1948), THE LINEUP (1958) and THE BIG COMBO.

The 1959 Hammer Films remake, distributed theatrically by Paramount Pictures, was entitled THE MAN WHO COULD CHEAT DEATH. The Hammer effort comes with its own strengths and weaknesses, but both films share the same thematic concerns. In each film, close attention is paid to a Frankensteinian hands motif. Human hands have the potential to both commit horrific murders and perform remarkable surgeries that halt the normal aging process. Interestingly, the hands also provide the first hint of aging when another surgery is overdue. The motif is given further emphasis with the trembling hands of an elderly surgeon who no longer can be depended upon to perform glandular transplants every 10 years. It seems the positive things human hands are capable of are cancelled out by the negative qualities. Director Terence Fisher keeps essentially the same material moving a little more briskly with his version clocking in at just under 83 minutes. But Anton Diffring gives an erratic performance in the lead role of Dr. Georges Bonnet, and I actually find the transformation sequences more convincing in the original filmed version of the story.

I have not seen the HOUR OF MYSTERY hour-long TV episode “The Man in Half Moon Street” that aired June 22, 1957 on British television. This interpretation also featured Anton Diffring in the lead role and Arnold Marlé as Dr. Ludwig Weisz. The anthology television series was produced by ABC Weekend TV and broadcast on the ITV network.

SORRY, WRONG NUMBER (1948)

Paramount Pictures, 88m 44s

An extension of the 1943 radio play written by Lucille Fletcher, producer/director Anatole Litvak’s socially uncompromising SORRY, WRONG NUMBER encompasses many of the themes and motifs central to the American film noir cycle:  women who are something other than what they seem, men who are tempted by the allure of money to commit crimes, a decadent urban setting, flashbacks meant to explicate the present, and above everything else, an irrevocable sense of doom as fate closes in on the major characters. An exercise in sustained tension, from the opening moments time is running out on the bedridden female protagonist. Leona Stevenson (Barbara Stanwyck earned her fourth Oscar® nomination) is wholly dependent on her telephone to send and receive information. Due to a crossed wire connection, she becomes aware of a murder plot set to take place that very evening. Leona eventually comes to suspect she is the intended victim. Trapped in her Manhattan residence alone, can the invalid avoid her fate?

Leona is one of film noir’s most unique femme fatales. The pampered daughter of drug mogul James Cotterell (Ed Begley), owner of the J. Cotterell Drug Co., she is known derisively as "the cough drop queen." That she would garner such a label is not surprising given her lamentable character traits:  she is spoiled, self-centered, manipulative and standoffish. An undesirable combination of petulance and fragility, Leona is all but impossible to engage in conversation. But given her obvious social pedigree as the Cotterell heiress, she maintains at least some appeal despite regular intervals of truculent defiance. Interestingly, Leona is the driving force behind her romance with Henry Stevenson (Burt Lancaster, cast against type), a big strapping young fellow who looks good on the dancefloor at the Matthews College for Women. Their social backgrounds are comically antithetical; he works in a drug store, her father owns a large chain of drug stores. Henry does not understand why Leona would have any interest in someone like him. Her clingy father cannot help but agree. James pleads with his daughter not to marry a financially undernourished man of limited education. Of course she acts against her father's admonitions, and so the Cotterell family merges with Henry Stevenson.

Murder by numbers

For better or worse

Safe house?

That noir moment of recognition

A crucial theme baked into the film noir genre, especially during the classic period that stretches from roughly 1944 - 1950, is that the traditional American family is under strain. It is easy enough to note the absence of family values and the many unsuccessful marriages that distinguish DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), THE SUSPECT (1944), SCARLET STREET (1945), MILDRED PIERCE (1945), THE STRANGE AFFAIR OF UNCLE HARRY (1945), THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS (1946), ALL MY SONS (1948), WHIRLPOOL (1949) and GUN CRAZY (1950). The preeminent theme that makes SORRY, WRONG NUMBER so perfectly noir is its bleak rendering of its star-crossed couple. In the course of a marriage unfulfilling for both parties, there is no happiness to be found in Leona’s family, only discontent, deception, disappointment, and death. From the outset, there seems to be no way to align the interests of everyone concerned. This theme can be traced back to the mother who died giving birth to Leona. Given the obvious class distinctions and contrasting personalities that polarize Henry and Leona, the husband and wife seem destined for divergent paths. It is not long after her wedding to Henry that Leona discovers a photo of his old flame Sally Hunt Lord (Ann Richards) in his wallet. That discovery instantly creates doubt in Leona’s mind about her choice for a husband. That finding is both revealing and deceptive; Leona is slow to recognize where the actual trouble lies.

Guns pointed directly at her, the mise en scène
suggests a grim future for Leona Stevenson

Henry demonstrates he has the ideal disposition to push the already nervous Leona into endless hysteria. Most important, he possesses a character trait typical of the film noir protagonist:  he thinks he deserves more than what he has and is willing to break the law to get it. What does separate Henry from most other noir protagonists is that he is not an average person trying to make good. Thanks to his unlikely wedding to a woman of significant means, he is fortunate enough to assume a do-nothing VP position at the largest pharmaceutical manufacturer in the country, but finds no satisfaction in his fixed opportunity at his father-in-law's firm. Henry mockingly tags himself "the invoice king," seemingly unaware he signed up for that position alongside "the cough drop queen." Thinking himself a stooge, Henry takes a tragically wrong turn when he goes after what he believes to be his rightful take. In an aggressive act of rebellion, Henry exploits the limited financial success of company chemist Waldo Evans (Harold Vermilyea) to form an underworld partnership. Henry and the milquetoast Waldo become drug traffickers in a raw materials skimming scheme; a plot thread that had to be diluted for Production Code considerations. It was recommended the filmmakers should take special care to avoid any references to an illicit drug trade, yet the drug trafficking angle is hardly an obscure plot thread. Naturally Henry's business model proves unsustainable. When resources are running low, the gangster Morano (William Conrad) recommends Henry goes after his wife's life insurance money!

Henry's immersion into a corrupt atmosphere of nefarious activity stems from frustration with his family, both personally and professionally. Just as Henry is dissatisfied with his work at the family business, he finds no sense of purpose flanked by his domineering wife. He does not harbor any desire to live under the same roof as his wife's father, either (cannot blame Henry for that conviction). Henry's determination to find his path somewhere beyond the clutches of the Cotterells leads to his wife's progressive panic attacks. As her unhappiness heightens, so her body weakens. Leona is confined to her bed much of the time, gradually working herself into a neurotic frenzy. In another familiar film noir theme that adds further complexity to this problematic noir marriage, Dr. Alexander (Wendell Corey) is unable to uncover anything physically wrong with Leona's heart, which implies her issue is purely psychological. Expressed somewhat differently, Leona and Henry are about as wrong for each other as one could imagine. Each makes the other feel worthless. Tellingly, all narrative paths converge in the bedroom, the supposed sanctuary of the married couple. Leona is a prisoner in the bedroom of her own home, trapped on the third floor awaiting her own murder, which was contracted by the husband she handpicked. Ironically, there is nothing about her physicality that should prevent her escape. Her state of paralysis is a product of her fractured psyche, nothing more. Psychological issues inflict anguish on major characters in a vast number of noir films, i.e. CAT PEOPLE (1942), SCARLET STREET (1945), NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947), POSSESSED (1947), SO EVIL MY LOVE (1948), WHIRLPOOL (1949), WHITE HEAT (1949), THE SNIPER (1952) and WITHOUT WARNING! (1952). Moreover, Leona's limited mobility reflects the noir genre's obsession with broken individuals. Witness the less-than-able-bodied characters that populate DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT (1944), THE BIG SLEEP (1946), GILDA (1946), THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI (1947), ABANDONED (1949), ACT OF VIOLENCE (1949), KEY LARGO (1948), THE HITCH-HIKER (1953), STORM FEAR (1955) and TOUCH OF EVIL (1958). Leona is something of a special case in that her psychological frailty gives rise to her bedridden state of meaninglessness.

Leona not at her best

Chiaroscuro lighting typical of the classic noir era

The individual minimized by his environment

A prescient composition

Beyond its major themes that emanate from a distinctly noir worldview, SORRY, WRONG NUMBER maintains a wide aperture for the genre's many other recurring signposts. What fills most of the 88-minute runtime is a series of flashbacks, even a flashback within a flashback, that combine to form a nightmarish evocation of a relationship that never stood a chance. The standard randomness of the noir environment is in full effect as well. Due to a remarkably random technical glitch (better understood as a condemned individual's fate), Leona overhears a telephone conversation that describes a murder arranged for that night. The operator cannot help her, nor can the police provide any assistance. Leona is ordained to die, but not before the irony of that certainty is brought into focus. After the archcriminal Morano is arrested, there is no reason to pay any debt owed to him, but Henry is unaware of that development while the contract to eliminate his wife remains in effect. She dies at the narrative's conclusion for no reason other than fatalism. Beforehand Leona even expounds her comprehension of the situation to her husband. The film's concern with family matters in fact reaches beyond the relationship between Leona and Henry. For instance, the marriage between Sally and Fred Lord (Leif Erickson) appears to have its challenges. After Fred keeps quiet about the sting designed to imprison her ex Henry, she resorts to spying on her husband to satisfy her natural curiosity. Then there is Henry's childhood recollection of his mother, who he remembers only as a hopelessly overworked domestic figure. In terms of setting, the sin-ridden noir city is an impersonal place in which a normally useful object like the telephone contributes to an alienated individual's sense of helplessness and fear. The noir city even serves as a necessary accomplice to the murder of Leona via one of the natural sounds of the urban milieu (a bypassing train). Visual signals of noir include shadows cast by venetian blinds, a serpentine staircase, and idealized photos that do not even begin to reflect reality. An audio hallmark is the narration that helps cover historical milestones of the connection between Leona and Henry. Despite a structure heavily reliant upon flashbacks, the narrative unspools in inevitable real time. Such structure works to consume the condemned lead protagonists in a painfully slow manner.

The noir protagonist faced with no better alternative

No way out

The killer's timely arrival

The noir marriage knocked over

Lucille Fletcher's 22-minute radio play SORRY, WRONG NUMBER originally aired on SUSPENSE (CBS) May 25th, 1943 with Agnes Moorehead as Leona. It was wildly popular, re-broadcast every year for a ten-year period. In 1947, Hal Wallis hired Fletcher to adapt her radio play for the big screen. Fletcher published a novelization of her radio play in 1948 along with the screenplay adaptation, co-authored by Allan Ullman. The Paramount production was in wide release in the US on September 24th, 1948 and became a financial success that no doubt helped ingrain Fletcher’s original material into the public consciousness. Stanwyck and Lancaster returned to their roles for a Lux Radio Theatre broadcast on January 9th, 1950. Shelley Winters starred as Leona in a CBS television production of the play for the TV show CLIMAX! on November 4th, 1954. Agnes Moorehead reprised her lead role when she recorded her interpretation in 1952 and converted the play into a one-woman act during the 1950s. Loni Anderson starred in the lead role in a TV movie version that aired in 1989.

The Shout! Factory dual-layered Blu-ray edition of SORRY, WRONG NUMBER released earlier this year offers heavy grain level and good contrast, all the better to appreciate the authenticity of atmosphere achieved by cinematographer Sol Polito. Some rather prominent scratches disturb the viewing experience from time to time, but overall the transfer looks strong framed at 1.37:1. Unique to this Shout! Factory project is a fresh audio commentary track by podcasters Sam Hurley and Emily Higgins. Unfortunately, their critique of the film is notable for long patches of silence and sometimes veers into riff territory. Not my cup of tea, at least not for a film I admire.

The other supplements are common to the Blu-ray edition released by Imprint in 2020. The audio commentary by film historian Alan K. Rode is loaded with his usual well-rounded research. Ukrainian-born filmmaker Anatole Litvak purchased the screen rights to SORRY, WRONG NUMBER from Lucille Fletcher in 1946. Litvak sold the film rights to producer Hal B. Wallis, which is how the co-production between the two was conceived. The box office take was $2.85M on a budget just under $1.5M. Barbara Stanwyck earned a healthy $125K for her role, which accounted for the largest production expense. She was the highest paid actress in the business at the time. Wallis should be remembered as one of the top producers during the Golden Age of Hollywood, as well as a skilled contract negotiator. Rode contends Burt Lancaster went after roles that would test his talents, and the emerging star always insisted on having the final say with producer Wallis. Rode points out that the killer getting away with murder scot-free in the radio play was unheard of at the time.

In his introduction (2m 30s) of SORRY, WRONG NUMBER, film noir expert Eddie Muller mentions the source material was the most famous original radio drama ever other than the 1938 radio broadcast of THE WAR OF THE WORLDS, narrated and directed by Orson Welles. The featurette "Hold the Phone:  The Making of SORRY, WRONG NUMBER" (2009, 31m 25s) covers the story's transition from radio broadcast to feature film. Dorothy Herrmann, daughter of Lucille Fletcher and composer Bernard Herrmann, notes that her mother's parents were unenthused about Lucille's relationship with Bernard. Next up is the Lux Radio Theatre radio play (1950, 59m 41s) that returned Barbara Stanwyck and Burt Lancaster to their roles from the 1948 film. Also among the supplements is a filmed performance of the radio play (28m 37s) with Sandy York giving it her all in the featured role of Mrs. Leona Stevenson. The difference in duration between the radio play and its movie adaptation accounts for some distinctions in the portrayal of Leona, who is even more unlikable and unreasonable in the radio play. In the course of an almost 90-minute movie, Barbara Stanwyck's interpretation is at least somewhat sympathetic, if for no other reason than the Leona character is not required to be grating every second. Another difference is the telephone in the radio play becomes a major character in its own right. A theatrical trailer (2m 38s) champions the source material's transition from radio play to vinyl record to novelization to feature film, and a photo gallery (2m 53s) completes the robust collection of bonus material.