United Artists, 83m 54s
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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.
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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.
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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:
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| 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).
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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
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