THE TURNING POINT (1952)

Paramount Pictures, 85m 37s

In 1949 the federal government was petitioned to crack down on the long-term social infection of interstate crime. The reaction to that pressure was the formation of the five-member Kefauver Committee, chaired by first-term senator Estes Kefauver of Tennessee. The special committee's hearings captured the interest of American television audiences. In fact some 30 million Americans tuned in to watch the live proceedings in March of 1951. Schools even dismissed students so they could view the hearings. Naturally the movie studios did not let the opportunity to profit from the 15-month investigation escape them. Numerous exposé films inspired by the hearings include THE CAPTIVE CITY (1952, personally endorsed by Senator Kefauver), HOODLUM EMPIRE (1952), KANSAS CITY CONFIDENTIAL (1952), THE MIAMI STORY (1954), THE MOB (1951), NEW ORLEANS UNCENSORED (1955), NEW YORK CONFIDENTIAL (1955), THE PHENIX CITY STORY (1955), THE RACKET (1951), THE SELLOUT (1952), THE SYSTEM (1953) and TIGHT SPOT (1955). Perhaps the social problem noir most influenced by the Kefauver Committee is THE TURNING POINT, produced by Irving Asher and directed by William Dieterle.

In a nameless city plagued by a parasitic crime network, crusading Special Prosecutor John Conroy (Edmond O'Brien) arrives on the scene to restore order with administrative assistance in the form of Amanda Waycross (Alexis Smith). Streetwise reporter Jerry McKibbon (William Holden), who grew up with John, suggests the newly-appointed crime czar might be out of his element. Undeterred, John requests the help of his police detective father Matt Conroy (Tom Tully), whose reluctance to get involved immediately implies his covert connection with local racketeer Neil Eichelberger (Ed Begley). It long has been suspected Eichelberger's supposedly legit operation Sphere Trucking hardly accounts for all of his considerable income.

"I'd rather nail one crooked cop than a hundred hooligans."

Family issues as set forth in the noir film often revolve around the absence of marriage or the futility of the institution. That sort of theme is not advanced in THE TURNING POINT. Instead the corrosive noir atmosphere sullies the father/son family dynamic along with law enforcement credibility by way of Matt Conroy, a compromised cop who fathered the man intent on bringing down the Eichelberger operation. Fittingly, the cynical newsman Jerry is the first to recognize Matt has strayed from his professional responsibilities. Jerry issues a clear warning to John that entrenched noir forces have captured control of someone close to him:

"...I'd screen everybody...I'd screen 'em again. I'd get to know them intimately back from the time they were born. I'd question my own mother."

Matt attempts to justify his behavior in terms of pent-up desire for material possessions people with more discretionary income enjoy. He grew to resent the assumption policemen are expected to serve the public largely out of moral obligation rather than for compensation of any substance. Somewhere along the way he fell for the "easy money" available to him through Eichelberger. This sequence slyly casts Matt in a somewhat sympathetic light. Principles guide us less when we find ourselves saddled with debt. That is not to say Matt should not be held accountable for his own impulses, but the scene does imply the system is more broken than he is. One of the film noir's most consistently Marxist assertions is that an economic system in which some have less than others makes criminals out of ordinary people.

As for the individual seemingly benefiting the most from a society that has allowed criminal behavior to get out of hand, the utter ruthlessness of Eichelberger is confirmed on multiple occasions. First he engineers the murder of Matt in such a way as to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. In Eichelberger's effort to close the door firmly on the matter, Matt's killer Monty LaRue (Tony Barr) is sacrificed after he completes his task! Later Eichelberger sets fire to his Arco Securities Co. clearinghouse with full knowledge the blaze is sure to bring about the deaths of those who reside in apartments above the warehouse facility. Eichelberger obviously will do anything to cover his tracks and must be eliminated from decent society, though the moral man John blames himself for the tragic deaths of those unfortunate residents who called the Arco building home. Similarly, Jerry is a man of integrity who blames himself for the downfall of Matt; Jerry gets Matt eliminated after he suggests Matt should double-cross Eichelberger. That incident, along with the Arco fire, emphasizes another theme:  sometimes people must be sacrificed for the greater good (a post-WWII era message if ever there were one). As Eichelberger is brought into custody, Jerry catches a bullet. That equation has a dark implication, commensurate with Jerry's line that John repeats to summarize his old friend's passing:  "Sometimes someone has to pay an exorbitant price to uphold the majesty of the law." An alternate way to critique the scene is that Jerry (the someone) must fall in order for John to rise.

Another of the film's crucial themes involves the varied paths people take as they mature. Though we all start out roughly the same, ultimately we define ourselves through different choices. Childhood connections might survive into adulthood, sometimes not. At times personal or professional obligations get in the way of long-term alliances. Jerry and John were childhood mates, but due to the investigation that reunites them, Jerry causes tension when he gains the romantic interest of John's trusted gal Amanda. Then there is Matt, who grew up with one of the hoods, which no doubt had an impact on his decision to turn his back on the law he pledged to uphold.

An old friendship under strain

Director William Dieterle is not one of the big names of the film noir movement, but he deserves credit for helming quality titles like PORTRAIT OF JENNIE (1948), THE ACCUSED (1949), ROPE OF SAND (1949) and DARK CITY (1950). His work on THE TURNING POINT is exceptional; this film is loaded with well-balanced compositions and thoughtful performances. It never drags. Screenwriting duties were handled by Warren Duff, who adapted the original story by Horace McCoy. Cinematographer Lionel Lindon managed the camerawork for the film noir classics THE BLUE DAHLIA (1946) and ALIAS NICK BEAL (1949), as well as the spunky little B noir QUICKSAND (1950). Lindon also served as director of photography for THE MANCHURIAN CANDIDATE (1962), one of the finest films of its era and certainly an instance of the film noir formula at work in the 1960s. And boy does THE TURNING POINT boast terrific starpower with Edmond O'Brien, William Holden and especially Ed Begley, who as far as I know never appeared in an unwatchable movie or gave a substandard performance. I particularly admire his work in PATTERNS (1956), 12 ANGRY MEN (1957) and ODDS AGAINST TOMORROW (1959), one of the best examples of the noir genre that closed the decade. The supporting players bring assured stability to the narrative's structure as well, with Jay Adler, Neville Brand, Ted de Corsia and Danny Dayton on board. The plot mechanics honor genre tradition with a suspenseful chase sequence built around the Eichelberger gang's pursuit of the widowed Carmelina LaRue (Adele Longmire). The final act plays out in a boxing arena, always an ideal backdrop for corruption, confusion and murder.

Traditional noir blocking as both actors face the camera

Once again Kino Lorber has given a respectable release to an important film noir title as part of their increasingly reliable Kino Lorber Studio Classics product line. This single-layered Blu-ray edition presents a 4K scan of the 35mm film elements, remastered in HD by Paramount Pictures. Framed at 1.37:1, it looks quite phenomenal in motion and constitutes one of the year's must-haves for knowledgeable film noir collectors. Contrast is just fine and the eye-pleasing level of film grain makes for a reasonable approximation of what the original theatrical presentation must have looked like. What I wouldn't give for a time machine to know for certain.

The labyrinthine noir environment

The ever-dangerous noir staircase

The audio commentary track by the always credible film historian Alan K. Rode meets his usual high standard of research and insight, including an incredibly detailed account of the film's production, budgeted slightly over $1 million with a 30-day schedule that was improved upon by four days. Only Rode would reveal that Whit Bissell earned $250 for his uncredited bit part! Rode also notes W.R. Burnett (also uncredited) worked on the screenplay. Burnett contributed to several noir essentials, among them HIGH SIERRA (1941), THIS GUN FOR HIRE (1942), THE ASPHALT JUNGLE (1950) and THE RACKET (1951). In a cost-savings measure, all of the actors wore their own suits. Only actress Alexis Smith was dressed by costume specialist Edith Head. John Conroy's character was modeled after Thomas Edmund Dewey, New York City prosecutor and District Attorney in the 1930s and early 1940s and sworn enemy of organized crime. He successfully prosecuted Charles "Lucky" Luciano in 1936. The Neil Eichelberger character is a thinly veiled interpretation of Frank Costello, the Italian-American crime boss of the Luciano criminal cabal. Ed Begley's nervous hands at the hearing are meant to remind us of Costello. In another example of gangster world influence, Vito Genovese once directed a gunman to bump off another hitman, very similar to the way Matt Conroy's demise is depicted. The Arco building fire initially met with strict Production Code resistance; arson crimes were not supposed to be chronicled in terms of criminal procedure. But after voicing his objection, lead code administrator Joseph Breen decided to let it go. Probably with a fair amount of reluctance, Breen must have recognized elements of the code had become outdated in post-WWII society. As always when it comes to film noirs that relied upon Los Angeles settings for location work, Rode comments on the significance and history of familiar locales such as Bunker Hill, the Angels Flight Railway funicular (a hillside cable railroad that counterbalances ascending and descending cars), Los Angeles City Hall and the Olympic Auditorium, where the climactic boxing match takes place. THE TURNING POINT returned several hundred thousand dollars of profit for Paramount Pictures, deservedly so.

Other than Rode's commentary, the only other supplemental material is the collection of theatrical trailers for comparable titles available from Kino Lorber.

ALL MY SONS (1948)

Universal Pictures, 94m 13s

The film noir takes on tragic proportions with ALL MY SONS, a powerful anti-war statement from writer/producer Chester Erskine, who adapted the 1947 play of the same title by Arthur Miller (DEATH OF A SALESMAN [1949], THE CRUCIBLE [1953]). This Universal International Pictures production stands as a prime example of a noir film in which events of the past completely rule the present. Also a post-WWII film, it operates under the sound assumption there was no going back to however it was before world conflict. Among the many casualties of world war was an ocean of corruption that seeped into all areas of American existence, including small towns and middle-class suburbs. Though the noir film often is framed as an urban nightmare that primarily plays out within the dark, rainy streets of the largest US cities, genre instances such as ALL MY SONS suggest noir concerns are not limited to an urban ecosystem. The invasive noir atmosphere can be particularly potent in the country's unassuming smaller towns.

The uncompromising realities of post-WWII life are contextualized in terms of an Illinois family. For the past three years, the Kellers have been forced to deal with the MIA status of their son Larry. His brother Chris (Burt Lancaster) plans to marry Annie Deever (Louisa Horton), who once was Larry's girl. In the interest of personal growth rather than financial gain, Chris is prepared to set aside his claim to the family business in favor of domestic bliss with Annie, much to the disappointment of his industrialist father Joe (Edward G. Robinson, top-billed), who hoped Chris would take the reins of the company after him. Soon it is revealed there is more amiss with the Kellers than the son presumed dead and the future of their business. During a family night out, a local woman accuses Joe of being a murderer! Joe is quick to note he was exonerated, but that was not the case with Annie's father Herbert Deever (Frank Conroy), Joe's former business colleague, who is serving a prison term. Annie's brother George (Howard Duff) believes Joe knew all about a batch of defective plane engine cylinders that resulted in Herbert's sentence.

A recurring theme in the film noir is the unusual prominence an object
can have in a shot; sometimes that object displaces or minimizes the
importance of people. In this case the family piano stands in the
place of an absent son.

ALL MY SONS is jam-packed with themes and motifs that imbue the film with an unmistakable noir edge, especially with its drama so entrenched in the past. The circumstances that brought about the deaths of 21 fighter pilots cast an ominous shadow over the proceedings. Past events are accentuated by flashbacks, a technique not uncommon to the noir form. Then there are the characters whose lives have stalled after experiencing horrific loss. Could the world possibly be the same again after the devastation of WWII? The totality of Hollywood's film noir output of the 1940s insists the answer is no. At one interval in ALL MY SONS the cries of an infant are audible through an open window as the next generation voices its objections to a world in transition, one that no doubt will be unfairly burdensome for those who had no say in the state of things. In the film's concluding moments, a step is taken away from the diegesis to reflect upon the great cost of war, to reserve a moment for families torn apart by unacceptable human loss and the long-term suffering that accompanies it. Woven into the film's fabric is an obsession theme, a familiar film noir trope that impacts many of the genre's major characters. In this case the Keller family matriarch Kate (Mady Christians) has been the most obviously scarred of her family. She refuses to accept her son Larry's death and clings to better times, i.e. the value of a bag of potatoes, the preservation of Larry's old bedroom and his place at the family piano. She even takes pills to better cope with the present day. Kate certainly recalls the similarly obsessed family matriarch Hilda Blake (Helene Thimig) from STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT (1944), though Kate is the far more sympathetic character of the two.

The noir staircase obscures a listener.

Edward G. Robinson's disingenuous character is
framed as less important than the emerging couple.

Each character faces the camera in this traditional film noir approach to framing.

This shot's blocking communicates the increasing
distance between Joe Keller and his son Chris.

Part and parcel of the film noir is the traditional family home as breeding ground of problems not resolved easily. A lingering tension since wartime events is palpable, particularly for households in which family needs and business demands are forced to intersect. A major conflict at the Keller residence involves a son who does not wish to follow in his father's footsteps. That amounts to a huge blow against the values embodied by the family patriarch Joe, the working-class man who clawed his way to a higher level. On a level that calls into question the American military industrial complex, Joe profited from the war and became an important man in a business sense, but at what cost to humanity?

With its downbeat narratives and pessimistic inclinations, the film noir gives notable emphasis to the notion that the WWII era prefigured a period of social and moral decline. A Marxist view of capitalism often claims a significant portion of the noir portrait. An economic system that provides opportunity for everyone encourages immoral behavior with the potential of limitless rewards for the most daring, that risk/reward equation even encourages criminal behavior. Joe claims he only acted in his family's best interests but the truth is his inexcusable business decision was rooted in self-preservation. Through nothing but his own ambition, he accepted a government contract he could not handle in the event something went sideways. Of course that is precisely what happened, and he was ill-equipped to climb out of the impossible situation in which he deposited himself:  either ship the defective cylinders and hope for the best or accept a punishing business setback. Via flashback we learn Joe pledged to take full responsibility for his manufacturing, so Herbert authorized the shipment of cylinders that rightly should have been piled onto the scrapheap. The unfortunate result was 21 deaths and Joe's desperate need for a fall guy. He rationalized a wrongheaded connection between dirty business tactics and family responsibilities (he thought only of his family, not "all my sons"). Joe had every opportunity to do the admirable thing, essentially to choose life over death. He instead optioned to enrich his business and knowingly secure payment for faulty manufacturing. When a film noir character deliberately makes a wrong turn, noir historian Eddie Muller calls that moment "the break." The usual result is a downward spiral designed to hold the character accountable for his (or, less often, her) actions. In one of the genres most telling ironies, it is revealed the irresponsible business call made by Joe factored in his own son's demise. In a related theme, Joe must fall to clear the path for his surviving son. The concluding scenes closely echo the finale of THE OX-BOW INCIDENT (1942), a proto-noir-Western that also features a domineering patriarch intent on compelling his son to fall under his spell.

Director Irving Reis would add to the film noir category with his writing in the early 1950s for ANGEL FACE (1952, story credit), SPLIT SECOND (1953, co-story credit) and WITNESS TO MURDER (1954, original screenplay). Sadly his career was cut short by cancer on July 3, 1953. He was only 47 at the time of his death. Few cinematographers had their fingers on the noir pulse like Russell Metty, who ensured the look of ALL MY SONS was congruent with the noir canon of the mid-to-late 1940s that was engulfed in low-key lighting. His work is excellent here, as it is in his other noir efforts such as THE STRANGER (1946), RIDE THE PINK HORSE (1947), KISS THE BLOOD OFF MY HANDS (1948), THE LADY GAMBLES (1949), NAKED ALIBI (1954) and the end-of-genre-cycle masterpiece TOUCH OF EVIL (1958). Burt Lancaster was drawn to material that resonated with a social consciousness. He delivers one of the great moments of the film when he reads the letter that explains what became of his brother Larry.

The Blu-ray edition of ALL MY SONS released early in 2022 as part of the Kino Lorber Studio Classics product line boasts a new transfer from a new 2K master. Framed at 1.37:1, as the opening credits roll it becomes evident the source material must have been in very good condition. Some sections of the film are more bespeckled than others with artifacts and minor print damage, but overall the transfer looks crisp with a satisfying level of film grain. The main supplement is a new audio commentary track submitted by film critics Kat Ellinger and Lee Gambin. They discuss the feature film in terms of the definition of masculinity, especially in an American sense. There is something both sad and tragic about the Joe Keller character, he is far too nuanced to be considered only in terms of villainy. This is a "quietly subversive" movie according to Ellinger. She makes a great point about the Marxist nature of such narratives in which the only way to advance is to veer away from capitalism.

The usual Kino assortment of trailers is on hand.

As a fan of Tyler Joseph's band twenty øne piløts I was unaware
he borrowed his band's name from the work of Arthur Miller
until reviewing this film adaptation of the Miller play.

THE KILLING (1956)

United Artists, 83m 54s

Estimable writer/director Stanley Kubrick went on to accomplish so much after THE KILLING that his quintessential noir heist film tends to get short shrift when critics discuss his oeuvre, especially from an auteur perspective. With THE KILLING, Kubrick proved at the age of 27 he understood Hollywood genre conventions as well as anyone, which is to say he could pull off a standard genre film just as well or better than any of his contemporaries. His later films demonstrated he could make films like nobody else. So many have tried to emulate his trademark themes (filmmaking at an emotional distance, human characters as borderline mechanical entities, and above all else, a pessimistic view of human progress, which happens exclusively in violent terms) that the Kubrick style has become an obvious cliché of the indie film, especially when filmmakers emphasize the space between spoken words. Perhaps Kubrick's most accessible film, THE KILLING also stands as one of the most intense film noir thrillers on record, with ambitious detail compressed into a runtime just shy of 84 minutes.

Like any effective heist film, and this one certainly qualifies, Kubrick gives emphasis to distinct character types through a cast more than up to the task. His crime story is constructed around Johnny Clay (Sterling Hayden), who just served five years in prison and is anxious to test his ability to orchestrate a crime with a different end result. Of course that notion is the fatal flaw of the career criminal; the thought that next time will be different than the last time. Interestingly the crew assembled by Johnny is not exactly composed of hardened criminals, but rather an assortment of average people, some with bigger problems than others, but all with some sort of motivation for taking the risk of the robbery. The hard-luck lead protagonist Johnny and the people he surrounds himself with all are in one sense or another infected by a stubborn post-WWII social paralysis in which no one is quite happy where they are or with what they have.

Johnny's girl Fay (Coleen Gray), a demure young lady of limited self-esteem, has known her man since childhood. The metric of morality but also a byproduct of entrenched patriarchal authority, Fay embodies the wholesome female counterbalance to the threat posed to society by the scheming femme fatale (more on that person later). Fay is submissive, lacks confidence and appears 100% dependent on Johnny. Marvin Unger (Jay C. Flippen), a bookkeeper who owns the apartment where Johnny and Fay stay, fronts the money necessary to execute the elaborate racetrack heist. He seems to have personal reasons for his involvement in the job; the hints are numerous and not all that subtle that he is in love with Johnny. Notice the way Marvin interrupts the embrace between Johnny and Fay when he walks into their apartment early in the film. Far more suggestive is a later sequence, which features Marvin lying in bed while talking with Johnny, who sits in bed with him. Marvin suggests he and Johnny get away together after the caper in the most romantic of terms:  "Wouldn't it be great if we could just go away, the two of us, and let the old world take a couple of turns..." That fantasy of Marvin's has no possibility of happening and he realizes it. That is the only reasonable explanation for why he gets drunk at the track the day of the heist after Johnny had cautioned him to stay away.

The narrative's other relationship given significant screen time involves track cashier George Peatty (has anyone been slapped around in the movies more than Elisha Cook Jr.?) and his statuesque wife Sherry Peatty (Marie Windsor), one of the greediest bitches in cinematic history. A most unlikely couple in terms of appearances, George and Sherry have been married five years. Not coincidentally, that happens to be the identical amount of time Johnny spent behind bars; the noir film seldom paints a flattering portrait of the institution of marriage. As Sherry repeatedly registers objections to the life she has reduced herself to through her wedding vow to George ("This crummy apartment and a hamburger for dinner."), one gets the feeling she has voiced similar complaints since the first day of their relationship. In terms of more recent developments, she recurringly makes her bullied husband feel small for allowing himself to be roughed up by his associates (which naturally was mostly her fault). When not looking in the mirror, Sherry's favorite hobby apparently, she is two-timing George with Val Cannon (Vince Edwards), who treats her like the tramp she is and is very up front about his need for an open relationship. The dangerous female Sherry causes the gears of the heist to seize not long after she learns her husband has a big score in the making. Her unwelcome presence outside Johnny's apartment instantly creates doubt about the viability of the crime while in its planning stages.

Less time is devoted to the other characters, yet all of them make an impact and nobody seems extraneous. Probably the most sympathetic among them is Mike O'Reilly (Joe Sawyer), a racetrack bartender devoted to his invalid wife Ruthie O'Reilly (Dorothy Adams), a woman even more reliant on a man to take care of her than Fay. Patrolman Randy Kennan (Ted de Corsia) is a dirty cop and Leo (Jay Adler) is Randy's no-nonsense creditor. Nikki Arcane (Timothy Carey never moves his jaw when he talks) is the heist crew's weapons man who shares a WWII injury connection with a track parking attendant (James Edwards). Kubrick regular Joe Turkel (THE SHINING [1980]) makes an appearance as Tiny. Most memorable of the heist team's specialty guys is Maurice Oboukhoff (Kola Kwariani), both an intellectual (a chess player) and a brute (a hairy pro wrestler). In fact the same could be said about Kwariani.

As Kubrick shifts his film back and forth in time in the interest of illustrating each heist member's contribution to the crime, the narrative can be followed easily and every plot thread is simple to understand. The time element is a recurring motif that begins with the narration supplied by Art Gilmore (a real-life radio announcer), who makes the viewer aware of dates and times. Reminders of the film's time-sensitive nature include time ticking away at the Peattys' breakfast the day of the heist. After the heist takes place, a delay due to heavy traffic causes Johnny to be 15 minutes late for the post-heist rendezvous, enough time for a devastating gun battle to finish off everyone present. And talk about a tense moment with an inflexible deadline:  Johnny and Fay at the American Airlines service desk discussing the rules that govern carry-on luggage!

As the film progresses, noir ironies accumulate while the not-quite-perfect plan reveals its limitations. Consider the film's early moments, when Randy informs his impatient creditor Leo that he soon will make good on his obligations. "I'll be able to pay off like a slot machine," boasts Randy. He ends up being right about that, but definitely not the way he thought. As any slot player will tell you, the most probable result is the machine gets the better of you, especially when you could benefit most from some winnings. Randy also stresses, "I'll take care of myself...that's my specialty." In the long run that philosophy does not pan out for him, though he proves his commitment to that logic when he ignores a citizen's plea for help. Rather than follow up on a distraught woman's story as any dutiful law enforcement official should, Randy remains committed to a doomed script designed to enrich himself. Another sequence steeped in irony involves a car tire punctured by a gifted horseshoe, a rejected symbol of racial harmony that symbolizes Nikki's demise. And of course the concluding sequence is imbued with ironic meaning, with Johnny enveloped by the absurd forces for which the noir universe is characterized. Despite the "methodically executed" heist, Johnny fails to recognize the second-hand suitcase he purchases that is bulky enough to handle $2 million in cash makes for inappropriate carry-on luggage. That error in judgment gives rise to the film's major theme:  the futility of an elaborate plan in a random world. The numerous ironies that populate THE KILLING find close association with an irrepressible element of fatalism, a concept that provides the foundational ideological premise of film noir. A seemingly innocuous lady (Cecil Elliott) who fusses over her little dog at the airport hardly seems likely to become a significant factor on heist day, yet her presence leads to the exposure of the heist's architect (is there a woman in the film who is helpful to masculine endeavors?). Johnny stands helplessly at the airport, positioned perfectly to watch his score escape his grasp. "What's the difference?" he summarizes as he sees no point in even attempting to escape the hand of fate. The concluding shot recalls the final moments of NOTORIOUS (1946), with the condemned villain completely out of options. The most pure instances of the noir formula tend to wrap up accordingly, with at least one major character fully aware of his (or sometimes her) irreversible situation.

THE KILLING was based on the novel CLEAN BREAK by Lionel White. The adaptation's various working titles included “Bed of Fear,” “Clean Break” and “Day of Violence.” Kubrick's screenplay was seasoned with dialogue by Jim Thompson (witness the terrific hard-boiled language when Johnny breaks down Sherry, also when Johnny explains to Nikki why killing a horse is no big deal). The $330K budget was attached to a 28-day shooting schedule. Director of photography Lucien Ballard's studio-shot material meshes well with the stock footage assembled from the Bay Meadows Racetrack in San Mateo, California. Location footage was filmed in Bunker Hill, Culver City and Los Angeles International Airport. Leading man Sterling Hayden delivered a fascinating performance in director John Huston's THE ASPHALT JUNGLE (1950), the original noir heist classic. Hayden would return to work in a major role for Kubrick in DR. STRANGELOVE OR: HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE BOMB (1964). With those bedroom eyes and her tall, erotic body, actress Marie Windsor was born to portray femme fatales, and Sherry is about as caustic an example of one as the noir aficionado is likely to encounter. It is impossible not to sympathize with her bullied husband. Similarly, Elisha Cook Jr. was predestined to play the milquetoast (my favorite instance that leaps to mind is SHANE [1953]). Fittingly, the two would be reunited for the television mini-series SALEM'S LOT (1979). After THE KILLING was sold to United Artists, Kubrick and producer James B. Harris formed their own production company. Harris co-produced Kubrick's antiwar vehicle PATHS OF GLORY (1957) along with that film's star Kirk Douglas. Later Harris-Kubrick Productions released LOLITA (1962), based on Vladimir Nabokov's controversial 1955 novel. It also should be mentioned THE KILLING surely influenced Quentin Tarantino's terrific throwback crime film RESERVOIR DOGS (1992). And the element of a mature woman with a love for dogs would be inserted into A FISH CALLED WANDA (1988), my favorite of all heist films, for terrific comedic effect.

THE KILLING joins the 4K UHD club by way of the Kino Lorber Studio Classics product line. The new Dolby Vision HDR Master derived from a 4K scan of the original camera negative looks razor sharp and stands with confidence alongside the very best transfers of noir films currently available on physical media. Framing is at the intended aspect ratio of 1.66:1. Grain level is superb and should please anyone who purchases this release as a collection upgrade, no question. Below is a screen snapshot of the new Kino Lorber 4K edition:

http://www.dvdbeaver.com/21/the_killing_4K_UHD_/large/large_07_the_killing_4K_UHD__4K_UHD__blu-ray.jpg

The freshly recorded audio commentary track was contributed by incisive film historian and author Alan K. Rode, who is among the most accomplished voices when it comes to commentaries. He is always at the ready with everything one possibly could hope to learn about each sequence in terms of filming locations then and now, as well as contributions of everyone in front of and behind the camera. His best attribute is his ability to tell entertaining stories about contributors he either knew directly or understood from conversations with people who knew them well. Rode's coverage includes the peaks and valleys of Vince Edwards, who struggled with addictions to gambling and alcohol. Timothy Carey was fired off the set of ACE IN THE HOLE (1951) for the sort of scene-stealing antics he had on full display in CRIME WAVE (1953). Carey was fired from PATHS OF GLORY as well and had to be doubled. James Edwards was noted for being the first black actor to break away from long-entrenched stereotypes, most notably with his portrayal of Private Peter Moss in HOME OF THE BRAVE (1949). He set the stage for Sidney Poitier's emergence in the social problem film noir NO WAY OUT (1950). Real-life pro wrestler Kola Kwariani was a chess partner of Kubrick's. Together with Sterling Hayden they appeared on the cover of CHESS REVIEW (March 1956). A tough guy all his life, Kwariani died at the age of 77 after a brawl with five youths. Sterling Hayden, a member of the Communist Party for a short period of time, named names before the House Un-American Activities Committee to ensure he could continue working, though his testimony bothered him the remainder of his life. Rode also discusses the amputation of Jay C. Flippen's leg due to an infection and the career of Tito Vuolo, an ethnic character specialist and film noir fixture. Rode also identifies Rodney Dangerfield in an uncredited role as an extra at the racetrack (in those days Dangerfield was known as Jack Roy).

Kubrick's main obsessions as a young man were watching movies, photography (he was a LOOK photographer for 4 years) and playing chess (he would become a tournament-level player). He maintained creative involvement in every detail of his films, which in this case created tension with cinematographer Lucien Ballard. Rode notes Kubrick's camera moves only when necessary, a trait he probably picked up from watching the work of German-French filmmaker Max Ophüls (LETTER FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN [1948], LA RONDE [1950]). Despite the fact Kubrick did not take a salary, THE KILLING was not a profitable title for United Artists, though the gritty noir absolutely cemented Kubrick's reputation as a young filmmaker to watch.

A theatrical trailer (1m 46s) is the only other supplement.

Note:  Unless otherwise indicated, the screen captures above were snapped from the Criterion DVD released in 2011. For 4K screen captures of the Kino Lorber Studio Classics version of THE KILLING, visit Gary Tooze's DVDBeaver website:  THE KILLING