THE DESPERATE HOURS (1955)

Paramount Pictures, 112m 32s

A home invasion thriller set in the heart of Midwestern suburbia, THE DESPERATE HOURS employs the idyllic middle-class American family as organizing principle of the film noir. Intelligently sustained by producer/director William Wyler, hostile intruders take up residence in an otherwise stable household, where routine family matters suddenly become anything but routine. The family is tested to the max by the destabilizing force of the trespassers, but ultimately proves its resolve, bravery and long-term viability.

After family patriarch Daniel Hilliard (Fredric March) leaves his wife Ellie (Martha Scott) at home to tend to daily housekeeping rituals, the Hilliard family is left vulnerable to members of quite a different social stratum:  the Griffin brothers, recently escaped from the Indiana State Prison. In an instructive instance of film noir fatalism, the outfit's leader Glenn Griffin (Humphrey Bogart) targets the Hilliard property as a suitable hideout when he notices a kid's bicycle accents the otherwise unsullied front lawn. Glenn's safe assumption is that responsible parents never would take any chances with the safety of their children always in check. And so the unwelcome Griffin crew occupies the Hilliard property, where they challenge the strength and togetherness of the Hilliard family.

Good neighborhood gone bad

A mirror speaks to the duality of man:  the family
patriarch must access the side of himself normally suppressed

Pretty as a painting:
all the hallmarks of a carefully-staged William Wyler composition

Predictably, the social pariahs led by Glenn cause an instantly repellent disruption to this normally safe, antiseptic family environment situated in Marion County, Indiana. The three escaped convicts desecrate the neatly arranged family dwelling without much delay, their actions often characterized by the expected absence of moral constraints. A corpulent, clumsy oaf, Sam Kobish (Robert Middleton) is the most obnoxiously intrusive and upsetting to the established family framework. He starts trashing the Hilliard place minutes after he is inside. In contrast, Glenn's younger brother Hal Griffin (Dewey Martin) is too envious of the Hilliard home to cause the sort of upheaval Kobish accomplishes. Glenn falls somewhere between Kobish and Hal in his lack of refinement, as when he deposits his cigar in a teacup or stomps out a cig on the floor. It is as if the house itself is being challenged, not just the family that resides there. Before long the Griffin gang converts the Hilliards into servants within their own home.

The narrative is intensified by a Hilliard family in a state of transition. During the early moments of the film, the two children show signs each would like to break free from the family system and its somewhat regimented aspects. Little pipsqueak Ralphy Hilliard (Richard Eyer) wants to be treated more like a man, starting with being addressed as Ralph. Comically assertive, he is emboldened by the danger the gang represents, too youthfully energetic to recognize danger as he should. Ralphy's teenage sister Cindy Hilliard (Mary Murphy) takes a glance at her blossomed female physique in the mirror and deems herself ready for marriage. Neither of the siblings yet understands the complexities of maturity, that the transition to adulthood involves tough decisions that sometimes come with unexpected or wildly unfair consequences. Each energized by a certain amount of gumption, Ralphy attempts a daring escape and Cindy (tagged "spitfire" by Glenn) sinks her teeth into Hal's hand, but neither of the Hilliard children proves to be equipped to confront the menace exhibited by the unshackled convicts.

Night terror

Caught

The man who knew too much

The Hilliard family is headed by Daniel, a man of quiet demeanor who must face his antithesis in Glenn. Much of the narrative's momentum revolves around the question as to whether Daniel is able to protect his family and expel the unwelcome criminals from his home. In a crucial sequence, Daniel admits to his impressionable son he is dealing with fear. Nobody is more aware of Daniel's internal struggle than Glenn, who openly mocks Daniel's masculinity. A major turning point transpires when Daniel acknowledges his potential to become a killer, to think exactly like Glenn should there be no better alternative. Glenn acknowledges the base similarities the two men share when he declares Daniel would make a great confidence man. Like a transcendent mythological figure who must cope with adversity and grow stronger, Daniel becomes a different man by the end of the film compared to who he is at the outset. That he must somehow defeat the threat embodied by the Griffin band, however, is not to say he must harness his most primitive impulses, as sometimes plays out in such stories. Instead he must outthink both the hardened criminal and the seasoned crime fighters who seek the escaped inmates. His ascendancy is made possible through quick thinking, not from getting immersed in the gutter with his adversaries. A beacon of unmuddied reasoning and clarity of purpose, Daniel outlasts the chaos presented by Glenn through mental fitness, not force, all while putting the safety of his family ahead of his own.

As Daniel and his family are pressured to prove they belong in their home, so the Griffin party reveals they have no proper place in such surroundings. While the Hilliards cope with the unenviable circumstances that cause them to become prisoners of former prisoners, they must adapt and change in ways they likely never considered would be necessary. The archetypal middle-class family unit strengthens as the Griffin outfit gradually unravels. The gang is dysfunctional by comparison, unable or unwilling to demonstrate the same sense of unity. Much of their conversation results in disagreements and outright arguments. Glenn is sometimes crude in his expressions, a victim of his own self-limiting belief system. Perhaps he is too old and battle-scarred to do anything other than what he has done in the past. His brother Hal shows his lack of maturity when he acts childish once in possession of the Hilliard family handgun. Hal's determination to be his own man, to break from his family unit, will ensure the gang's destruction. The uncouth Kobish acts like an undisciplined little kid that seems to legitimize the maturity of young Ralphy. In elementary school, Kobish might have been that poor kid who just could not do anything right; the type of misfit who couldn't tie his own shoes or follow the most basic set of instructions. As an adult, he is a childish brute who is far too mean to earn any of the viewer's sympathies, especially when he foolishly risks his own neck to encourage a vehicle's collision with a loose dog. To solidify his outcast status, Kobish later guns down "local trashman" George Patterson (Walter Baldwin), an obviously harmless man. Ultimately the outdated criminal family led by Glenn proves itself more error-prone and less cohesive than the stable and supportive Hilliard family.

If a sense of fatalism brings the Griffins and the Hilliards together, the hand of fate also is in effect when Glenn's moll Helen gets pulled over for a traffic violation. No longer en route with Glenn's cash, she arranges to mail him the money, which causes the gang to remain at the Hilliard residence much longer than originally planned. Glenn and the boys could have departed with the fistful of cash Daniel forks over, but the notion additional funds are in transit ensures the gang will remain right where they are at. It is nothing more than greed, that essential noir motivator, that keeps the Griffin bunch hanging around past their expiration date.

Idealized family photos emphasize a man's priorities

Road kill

This composition implies a divide between the gang members

A time of social cohesion and financial discipline, the entrenched family-based ideology of the mid-1950s was at odds with classic film noir pessimism that persistently questioned the feasibility of the family. Consider the vast array of crucial noir films that challenge the very concept of marriage and its traditional family structure, i.e. SHADOW OF A DOUBT (1943), DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944), LEAVE HER TO HEAVEN (1945), MILDRED PIERCE (1945), THE STRANGE LOVE OF MARTHA IVERS (1946), THE BIG CLOCK (1948), CAUGHT (1949), SUDDEN FEAR (1952), ANGEL FACE (1953). With its focus on the sturdiness of the traditional American family and the human gravity embodied by its family patriarch, in terms of family values THE DESPERATE HOURS seems to signal the end of the film noir movement. As the noir film moved from the 1940s into the 1950s, its skepticism in regard to the American family's enduringness was at odds with the new normal:  the American rate of divorce was lower in the 1950s than the prior decade. Historically speaking, the America of the 1950s was known for social conformity and its stable, idealistic nuclear family, epitomized by popular television programming like I LOVE LUCY (1951–1957), THE ADVENTURES OF OZZIE AND HARRIET (1952–1966), FATHER KNOWS BEST (1954–1960) and LEAVE IT TO BEAVER (1957–1963), all enriched with moral lessons intended for broad public consumption. How interesting that the front of the Hilliard home was utilized for LEAVE IT TO BEAVER! Notable films of the mid-1950s that were more cynical about the supposed strength of the nuclear family tend to fall within the emotional excesses of the melodrama category, i.e. ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS (1955), REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE (1955), BIGGER THAN LIFE (1956), WRITTEN ON THE WIND (1956). It is probably fair to assume the vibrant color palettes of the Sirkian melodrama displaced the film noir in some respects, especially in terms of the genre film as manifestation of the dark side of the American Zeitgeist.

In harmony with the times, THE DESPERATE HOURS repeatedly validates the importance and resilience of the family as a team. Family members can be counted on to look out for each other, unlike the criminal family, which is shown to be undisciplined and less structured in comparison. The common criminal still might be able to eke out his livelihood in the big city, though that type of individual is shown to have no ideological place in the suburban world depicted in THE DESPERATE HOURS, where consequential family values crystallize with a collaboration of law enforcement officials in the shared interest of delivering a kick in the pants to the criminal minded. But even the finest of families can invite danger into their lives through complacency, a theme repeatedly underscored by references to Ralphy's bicycle left conspicuously in the front yard. One cannot take suburban middle-class safety for granted. No matter, the Hilliards confirm they can stick together when it matters most, as when Cindy instinctively returns to her home base. Conversely, when Hal acts on his instincts to abandon his family, his reward is a gun battle with the law that leaves him in the path of a punishing semi-trailer truck. In other words, the first of the Griffin gang to part ways with his family is the first to be exterminated. Though the difference in Hal's lifespan well might have been academic, it is implied he and his mates would have been better off had he remained with his group, its emotional emptiness notwithstanding. Even the Griffins are better off together than separated.

Window surveillance shots often underscore the classic noir
chiaroscuro visual style while implying a sense of entrapment

The home invasion story is intertwined with police procedure intended to reinforce the ultimate triumph of patriarchal family values, though competing pressures create conflict between the lawman and the citizen. Policemen are highly motivated to capture the fugitives at large, especially after one of them kills a local man. Daniel must be more concerned with the preservation of his family than whatever happens to Glenn and his men. That understandable concern causes Daniel to be reluctant to involve the police. What if the cops lose control of the situation and bust into his home all guns blazing? Indeed the final resolution to the social problem presented by the three convicts supports Daniel's concern that a police presence on his property could cause irreparable harm to his family. As it turns out there is no rehabilitation program in the future for the members of the Griffin gang. In testimonial to their collective lack of worth, all three gang members are gunned down by the police, not arrested. Along with the moral goodness represented by the Hilliard family comes a validation of the law-abiding citizen who makes it possible for the police to move in on nefarious forces:  it is the discovery of the registered Hilliard handgun that works to restore law and order to the Hilliard family home (unregistered firearms could bring about no such positive outcome).

Screenwriter Joseph Hayes also wrote the novel (1954) and the play (1955). The novel was based on actual events that began on (of all dates) 9/11 of 1952, when the Hill family of Whitemarsh, Pennsylvania was invaded by three escaped convicts. The Hills were held hostage by the trio for nineteen hours. Later in 1952 LIFE magazine dramatized the story, which resulted in a lawsuit that had right to privacy implications; the Hills did not appreciate that the terror they experienced became fodder for entertainment. Moreover, they claimed the magazine article was an inaccurate portrayal of the events that transpired. In 1967 the U.S. Supreme Court sided with LIFE magazine, which made the Hill lawsuit an important First Amendment victory for media outlets. The Hill case might have inspired numerous variations on the home invasion thriller; a number of such films cast in the noir form populated the 1950s and some of them came before THE DESPERATE HOURS. Noir films that explore the invasion theme include HE RAN ALL THE WAY (1951), SPLIT SECOND (1953), BLACK TUESDAY (1954), SUDDENLY (1954), WITNESS TO MURDER (1954), CRASHOUT (1955), THE NIGHT HOLDS TERROR (1955) and VIOLENT SATURDAY (1955).

The stage version of THE DESPERATE HOURS made its Broadway debut February 10, 1955 at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre. It ran for 212 performances and featured Paul Newman as Glenn Griffin and Karl Malden as Dan Hilliard. On October 12, 1955, master filmmaker William Wyler's adaptation of THE DESPERATE HOURS was in wide release in the United States. Wyler’s modes of expression sometimes remind us the stage version came first, though his coverage is always cinematic and imparts craftsmanlike thought on the part of the man at the helm of the production. There are nice little touches along the way, as when Chuck Wright (Gig Young) lifts up the armrest of his convertible in the hope his date Cindy wants to snuggle up to him (she doesn't, and he fails to realize it). A creepy Wyler moment plays out when Kobish rises from the darkness, his sexual appetite stirred by the appearance of the attractive young Hilliard daughter. And in one of my favorite Wyler sequences, Hal observes the assembly of fun-loving young people in the neighborhood. Hopelessly detached from basic human wants and needs, on the outside the escaped prisoner remains on the inside. The only error in judgment that leaps out at me is the way Glenn repeatedly says "clickety clickety click" to Daniel (the reference is to Daniel's brain on overdrive trying to outwit the ruffians). The phrase grows stale by the second reel. Though his filmmaking career covered 45 years from the silent film into the New Hollywood era, Wyler was not noted for extensive work in the film noir genre. He did direct DETECTIVE STORY (1951), another noir narrative ported from the stage, and THE COLLECTOR (1965), a noirish captivity narrative with a claustrophobic sense of alienation. Director of photography Lee Garmes is probably the bigger name in terms of experience with noir productions. His most important credit in that vein undoubtedly is NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947), and he also handled the cinematography for CAUGHT (1949), THE CAPTIVE CITY (1952) and Wyler's DETECTIVE STORY.

Low-angle shots work to close in on the gang led by Glenn Griffin

Trapped

The Hilliard home minimizes Glenn,
even as he attempts to make a last stand

Reduced to a news story

Of course the Wyler interpretation of THE DESPERATE HOURS benefits from the presence of film noir royalty in Humphrey Bogart, one of the foremost figures to inhabit the genre from beginning to end. After starring in the two genre-shapers HIGH SIERRA (1940) and THE MALTESE FALCON (1941), Bogart left his charismatic mark on the 1940s with CONFLICT (1945), THE BIG SLEEP (1946), DEAD RECKONING (1946), DARK PASSAGE (1947), THE TWO MRS. CARROLLS (1947) and the superb KEY LARGO (1948). He would grace the 1950s with IN A LONELY PLACE (1950), one of the most iconic of all noir films, and follow up with THE ENFORCER (1951), DEADLINE - U.S.A. (1952), THE DESPERATE HOURS and his final project THE HARDER THEY FALL (1956). Before all of that, Bogart found his star-making vehicle in THE PETRIFIED FOREST (1936) thanks to his inspired performance as gangster Duke Mantee. The following year, DEAD END (1937) was directed by William Wyler and featured Bogart as "Baby Face" Martin. Roughly 18 years later, Wyler's THE DESPERATE HOURS brought the curtain down on Bogart's gangster persona. Obviously a lot of time had passed since Bogart's gangster films of the 1930s, and that passage of time is apparent within the actor's appearance. The lines that accent his facial features have deepened, etched with an accelerated aging process one might associate with the frequently incarcerated (and the heavy smoker). One gets the impression his Glenn has been beaten with the hammer of oppression all his life. As forces opposed to Glenn converge toward him, Bogart's dour mug conveys a deadening sense of purpose as a life marked by existential choices grinds down. On the wrong side of a handgun brandished by Daniel, Bogart's Glenn makes his existential declaration:  "What are you waiting for?" The viewer is met with the feeling it is not just a character recognizing the end of the line, but a genre personality drained of his vitality. We are witness to the exhaustion of a tradesman who’s walked a genre from beginning to end. Indeed Bogart would pass away just a few years after his memorable turn in THE DESPERATE HOURS. In retrospect the genre died with him, at least in terms of film noir as a highly active Hollywood filmmaking formula. Somewhat surprisingly, THE DESPERATE HOURS also accounted for the only occasion Bogart and Fredric March worked together.

Thanks to a highly questionable casting decision, Gig Young seems light years out of place in his supporting role as Cindy's suitor Chuck. Young was about 18 years older than Mary Murphy, which strains credulity in terms of his relationship with the vulnerable Hilliard daughter. As time marched on, Young would be an odd choice for another reason to portray the man invited into the Hilliard home during the narrative's concluding scene:  on the 19th day of October, 1978, Young and his wife were found dead in their Manhattan apartment. It was believed Young shot his wife before turning the gun on himself. Other supporting roles allow some familiar faces to lend credibility to the proceedings, especially among the law enforcement crew, which features Arthur Kennedy as Deputy Sheriff Jesse Bard, Whit Bissell as FBI Agent Carson and Ray Collins as Sheriff Masters. Beverly Garland also appears in an uncredited role as Miss Swift (a schoolteacher).

Arrow Video issued a "Limited Edition" dual-layered Blu-ray edition of THE DESPERATE HOURS in the fall of 2023. Framed at 1.85:1, this new restoration was completed by C Films from a 6K scan of the original VistaVision negative. Paramount's proprietary widescreen film process, the VistaVision format ran film horizontally through the camera instead of vertically. This process allowed for a larger image area and thus higher image resolution that became apparent when projected on large theatrical screens. The restorative work results are easy for the home video collector to appreciate; this is one of the sharpest Blu-ray versions of a film noir a genre fan is likely to encounter. I did notice a glitchy moment around the 75m 33s mark, either an editing imperfection or perhaps some frames were missing. The restoration also features the original lossless mono audio. THE DESPERATE HOURS was the first black & white film shot in VistaVision. The difference between the Arrow Blu-ray and the DVD issued by Paramount Pictures in 2003 is downright shocking:

Paramount DVD (2003)

Arrow Blu-ray (2023)

The impressive Arrow Video presentation of the feature film gets an added boost from an informative range of supplemental material. The newly-recorded audio commentary track by filmmaker and film historian Daniel Kremer covers the penultimate Humphrey Bogart film from a variety of angles. Kremer explores the trademarks of director William Wyler, which include deep focus cinematography to best capture his "stacked staging." There is always a lot going on in a Wyler frame. His carefully considered blocking suggests a seasoned filmmaker at work who takes his job very seriously. Wyler always maintains a perspective as he guides the viewer into a perception; the audience is meant to experience a setup a predetermined way. Wyler was noted for making his actors perform many, many takes. This was especially true for Fredric March, whom Wyler wanted to beat down enough to look appropriately frazzled. In one of my favorite moments of the film, March's efforts as an actor reach their apex when his character finally reclaims his family home. In terms of auteur theory, THE DESPERATE HOURS follows a recurring Wyler template in which non-violent people are forced into action. The March character is on common ground with pacifists who rise to the occasion in FRIENDLY PERSUASION (1956), THE BIG COUNTRY (1958) and BEN-HUR (1959).

The supplements continue with "Trouble in Suburbia:  José Arroyo on THE DESPERATE HOURS" (38m 51s, 2023), which provides a thoughtful cultural/historical look at the feature film, along with a deep dive into some of the film's major thematic elements. The Associate Professor in Film and Television Studies at the University of Warwick, Arroyo reviews the dealmaking that led to the production of THE DESPERATE HOURS. Its origin rests in Liberty Films, the independent production company founded by Frank Capra and Samuel J. Briskin in April of 1945. Filmmakers George Stevens and William Wyler soon became partners. The debut offering from Liberty Films was Capra's IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE (1946), which lost $400K, a hefty amount at that time. Suddenly in a perilous position, Liberty Films was acquired by Paramount Pictures in May of 1947. As part of the deal, Capra, Wyler, and Stevens received five-picture contracts at Paramount. Each Wyler film was budgeted at $150K. Looking back, the result was a rather impressive assortment:  THE HEIRESS (1949), DETECTIVE STORY, CARRIE (1952), ROMAN HOLIDAY (1953) and finally THE DESPERATE HOURS. His noir thriller was a modest success, but not the smash hit Paramount hoped it would be. Humphrey Bogart's production company Santana Productions had bid for the rights to make THE DESPERATE HOURS, but ultimately lost out to Paramount. An excellent Arroyo observation is that Hal likes to touch things in the Hilliard home that represent the type of lifestyle he could never have. So for Hal, with generational gang membership comes the recognition of displacement and an accumulation of resentment. Arroyo is on to something when he discusses the film as a reaction to the House Un-American Activities Committee hearings. With Daniel Hilliard anxious about both the criminal gang and the police, there is indeed a sense of paranoia to the atmosphere. In terms of Wyler compositions, Arroyo notes the director positions Glenn Griffin in setups that comment on his position of strength. As Glenn's prospects weaken, so does his presence in terms of compositional emphasis, which is systematically reduced as the narrative unspools.

Next up is the featurette "The Lonely Man" (14m 54s, 2023), a visual essay written and narrated by Eloise Ross, co-curator of the Melbourne Cinémathèque. Ross examines the consistent, expressive persona of Humphrey Bogart across a wide body of work, in particular as the "ambiguous hero." The featurette also focuses on class distinctions that add texture to the drama that plays out in THE DESPERATE HOURS. "Scaled Down and Ratcheted Up:  An Interview with Catherine Wyler" (11m 47s) gives a voice to the daughter of director William Wyler. She recalls her father very much wanted Spencer Tracy in the role of Daniel Hilliard, but neither Tracy nor Bogart would accept second billing. Catherine explains her father's tendency to demand repeated takes from his actors was driven by his wish for the actor to discover the best approach to an acting problem from within, rather than be instructed by the director how to play the scene. She suggests the title THE LIBERATION OF L.B. JONES (1970) is the Wyler film most deserving of rediscovery. Also selectable is a theatrical trailer (2m 19s) and a lobby cards gallery. The Blu-ray packaging features a reversible sleeve with original artwork by Jennifer Dionisio. Also included is a booklet with essays by film historians Philip Kemp and Neil Sinyard.

THE DESPERATE HOURS was remade as a TV movie in 1967 directed by Ted Kotcheff (WAKE IN FRIGHT [1971], FIRST BLOOD [1982]). George Segal portrayed Glenn Griffin and Arthur Hill played Dan Hilliard. I have not had the opportunity to watch this version of the story. The more readily available remake DESPERATE HOURS was released in 1990, directed by Michael Cimino (THE DEER HUNTER [1978], HEAVEN'S GATE [1980]). The Cimino interpretation of the source material written by Joseph Hayes was among the first of numerous titles that resurrected film noir themes and motifs released in the early-to-mid 1990s. These neo-noir thrillers include AFTER DARK, MY SWEET (1990), SHATTERED (1991), BASIC INSTINCT (1992), FINAL ANALYSIS (1992), ONE FALSE MOVE (1992), RESERVOIR DOGS (1992), RED ROCK WEST (1993), ROMEO IS BLEEDING (1993), THE LAST SEDUCTION (1994), PULP FICTION (1994), SEVEN (1995) and THE USUAL SUSPECTS (1995). Also in the mix were a number of remakes such as CAPE FEAR (1991), A KISS BEFORE DYING (1991), GUNCRAZY (1992), NIGHT AND THE CITY (1992), KISS OF DEATH (1995) and THE UNDERNEATH (1995). DESPERATE HOURS of course falls into the remake bucket, but unfortunately stands as one of the least impactful of the group. It is as if the premise engineered by Hayes were forced at gunpoint to move from 1955 to 1990. More plot-driven than character-driven, the Cimino film lacks the character development necessary to gain the viewer's commitment. The family in peril is ill-conceived, with Anthony Hopkins and Mimi Rogers combined to form one of the genre's least plausible couples. Another problem is the casting of Mickey Rourke as the leader of the home invasion team. Rourke at times seems to have emerged from the set of another production. Whatever motivates his lawyer Nancy Breyers (Kelly Lynch) is particularly hard to follow. Worst of all is with Cimino at the helm, the basic themes that were so central to the Wyler original become murky at best. If all of that were not disappointing enough, Cimino should be ashamed of the highway sequence that highlights young actresses obviously selected for their ability to fill out skimpy jean shorts.

At the time of this post, the Arrow Video release of William Wyler's THE DESPERATE HOURS is still available through online retailers and should be purchased by film noir fans without hesitation.