WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS (1950)

Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, 94m 49s

Set in nonaffluent sections of New York City, producer/director Otto Preminger's WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS opens with an emphasis on the city streets and the characters who navigate them. Like the Western's frontier, the film noir city often becomes something of a character, one with its profound influence on everybody who inhabits it. This particular city's featured noir protagonist is Mark Dixon (Dana Andrews), an experienced detective who perhaps brings a little too much passion to his work. In fact, a dozen citizens have registered formal complaints against Dixon recently. Inspector Nicholas Foley (Robert F. Simon) lectures Dixon about the rogue detective’s penchant for beating up thugs. Foley reduces Dixon to second-grade status in the hope the volatile cop will mend his ways. Another potential level of stress for Dixon is introduced before the demotion, when Foley announces all cops now answer to Lieutenant Thomas (Karl Malden). While he points to the leadership Thomas will provide, Foley looks upon Dixon with obvious disdain.

A serious man

The uniquely urban storyline is rooted in a floating craps operation gone wrong. Mr. Morrison (Harry von Zell) tries to slither out of the illegal dice game after scoring $19,000, but it is not a good idea to take the money and run when gambling with Tommy Scalise (Gary Merrill), a smug little bastard and noted area crime magnate. The man who brought Morrison to the dice game is Kenneth Paine (Craig Stevens), who slaps up his wife Morgan Taylor (Gene Tierney) before knocking out Morrison. When the 16th Precinct representatives arrive, Morrison has been pronounced dead thanks to a knife through the heart. Dixon is quick to assign blame to Scalise, a slippery hood who walked after Dixon got him in court two years back. But when Dixon attempts to question the hopeless drunk Paine, the conversation turns violent and Dixon accidentally kills him. Then Dixon learns Paine was a war hero. Through no fault of his own, at the time anyway, Dixon falls into one of those untenable noir situations. Given his reputation as a cop who crosses the line when it comes to police procedure, who would believe what actually happened? The detective attempts to cover up his connection to Paine by pretending to be dead man, never a sensible practice in the film noir (i.e. DOUBLE INDEMNITY [1944], NORA PRENTISS [1947], HOLLOW TRIUMPH [1948]). In one of the genre's great moments of palpable tension, Lieutenant Thomas asks Dixon to re-enact his impersonation of the fallen Paine!

Painekiller

The film's brisk first act ends as New York City exercises its power over the individual. By way of a window, the nighttime urban landscape dissolves into daylight as Dixon sweats it out. Widespread physical trauma and sickness characterize the corrosive urban milieu, a place where the disposal of a human body occurs with classical music audible in the background. Due to shrapnel, the decorated veteran Paine returned to civilian life with a silver plate in his head. Per film noir norms, after surviving wartime combat the veteran is far worse off within the American city, where arch criminal Scalise addictively relies on a nasal inhaler to breathe. Further evidence of physical suffering is associated closely with the family, which often is in jeopardy in the film noir, as it certainly is in this instance. Scalise was sponsored by Dixon's father, a thief who died in an attempt to shoot his way out of incarceration. Dixon claims he always endeavored to be different from his father, but how different is he? According to Scalise, Dixon is "half cop and half killer." The product of the same father figure, Scalise embodies Dixon’s dark half. Maybe the shadowy past of Dixon's family explains his attachment to cafe owner Martha (Ruth Donnelly), who was victimized in the past by a wife-beating husband, now in prison thanks to the efforts of Dixon.

The Taylor family is under considerable strain as well. Morgan Taylor is married to the abusive drunkard Paine, though they are separated. Her pop Jiggs Taylor (Tom Tully) is furious with Paine for striking his daughter, which leads to the angry father’s detention. Ironically, years ago the cab driver Jiggs was commended for aiding Dixon's pursuit of gun-toting criminals, but the dysfunctional relationship between his daughter and her husband causes the innocent man Jiggs to become a murder suspect. The requisite moment of existential recognition, so crucial to the downbeat tone of the film noir, occurs when Dixon laments, "Innocent people can get into terrible jams...one false move and you're in over your head." In the cruelly indifferent noir universe, even the innocent can be accused of a capital offense, both harmless people like Jiggs Taylor and well-meaning if overzealous detectives like Dixon. WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS suggests there is a cost associated with bending the rules in the interest of crime deterrence, but in a scene that willfully contradicts that notion, Foley tells Thomas to interrogate Steve (Neville Brand, D.O.A. [1950]) with the strong-arm methods for which Dixon is noted. The implication is, like it or not, tough tactics sometimes may be necessary to get results. Such thinking is not in vogue today, but the flawed detective Dixon of WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS is redeemed by the moral code that guides so many noir protagonists. In his letter to Inspector Foley, the obsessed Dixon is prepared to die to incriminate Scalise and free Mr. Taylor. The narrative wraps with an emotional resonance unusual for the noir film, especially one that revolves around a morally ambiguous cop.

The examination of gritty detective work in WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS anticipates the better-known film noir ON DANGEROUS GROUND (1951), in which Jim Wilson (Robert Ryan) struggles with anger management when it comes to his police work. Subsequent "bad cop" noirs included THE PROWLER (1951) starring Van Heflin as scheming cop Webb Garwood and PUSHOVER (1954) with Fred MacMurray in one of his rare heel turns. But today when Dixon is asked to take a one-week vacation for consistently annoying his superiors, the viewer immediately recalls the plot mechanics of DIRTY HARRY (1971) and its four sequels, all of which made the same general point that the detective must employ tough tactics to fight crime, yet the detective's various bosses invariably frown on those measures.

Despite the reunion of stars Andrews and Tierney from Preminger’s commercially successful LAURA (1944), WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS was the poorest box office performer released by Fox in 1950. Thankfully the film’s reputation has improved since the time of its theatrical release, and now we have a gorgeous Twilight Time Blu-ray version derived from a recent 4K restoration. Framed at 1.33:1, this 1080p interpretation of the 35 mm film provides a superior presentation in comparison with the Fox Film Noir DVD released in 2005, in terms of both image quality and information within the frame. With interior compositions and location work combined, the production serves as a veritable showcase for the skill of director of photography Joseph LaShelle, who also covered such genre staples as LAURA, FALLEN ANGEL (1945), ROAD HOUSE (1948) and the noir straggler STORM FEAR (1955).

Twilight Time Blu-ray

Fox Film Noir DVD

Supplements include the audio commentary track with noir expert Eddie Muller, which was ported from the Fox DVD. Muller draws the viewer's attention to the "bookend composition" framing style frequently employed by Preminger, as well as the director's fondness for fluid camera movement and minimal cuts. The understated filmmaking style of the famously cranky Preminger blended well with Andrews, who had the ability to convey multiple thoughts simultaneously. Close-ups are used sparingly and are seldom static. Muller notes prolific screenwriter Ben Hecht wrote the story for UNDERWORLD (1927), thought by some to be the very first American film noir. In the case of WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS, according to Muller, noir credentials are certified when Dixon briefly considers reporting the accidental death of Paine before proceeding with a plan to conceal the truth. When faced with crises, noir characters often make bad decisions that invite a whirlwind of increasingly complex troubles.

An isolated score track and an original theatrical trailer (1m 47s) are selectable, and the disc's packaging includes a booklet with an essay by Julie Kirgo.

THE MALTESE FALCON (1941)

Warner Bros., 100 minutes

TCM Big Screen Classics 75^th Anniversary Event

2/21 and 2/24 at over 650 cinemas nationwide

Introduction and closing from TCM host Ben Mankiewicz

In recognition of the film's 75th anniversary, Turner Classic Movies in conjunction with Fathom Entertainment has returned THE MALTESE FALCON to theatrical exhibition this week. All movies are best witnessed on the big screen, especially the greatest movies. That is the premise of this year's TCM Big Screen Classic presentations each month, along with the related idea there are enough people willing to pay for the experience to justify re-releases of classic cinema in the digital age. We can only hope there is enough public interest to keep the presentations flowing throughout select theaters for years to come.

THE MALTESE FALCON marked the directorial debut of John Huston, who would team with its star Humphrey Bogart again for ACROSS THE PACIFIC (1942), THE TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE (1948), KEY LARGO (1948), THE AFRICAN QUEEN (1951) and BEAT THE DEVIL (1953). Whether THE MALTESE FALCON constitutes the best effort of that group I will leave for others to debate, but there is little doubt that it was their most important collaboration. Many of the key elements that would define the film noir movement are there:  the narrative's origin in a hard-boiled detective novel (this one authored by Dashiell Hammett), a complex web of a story, a gritty urban setting, a tough-as-nails PI whose moral code trumps the rules established by society's institutions, a duplicitous dame, exotic villains, a dark and sinister atmosphere, and not the happiest of conclusions. All of these genre conventions would gather steam throughout the 1940s and 1950s. One of the best is THE ASPHALT JUNGLE (1950), also directed by Huston. But the more crucial film noir was THE MALTESE FALCON since it impacted every crime film that came after it.

Production Photo

For a film originally released 75 years ago, during a time when the rigors of the Production Code monitored Hollywood content, it is remarkable how tough a cookie Samuel Spade (Bogart) really is, and how little he is bothered by things that would make the average man shake in his boots. When he learns his smarmy PI partner Miles Archer (Jerome Cowan) has been found dead, Spade's only initial reaction is, "Where?" Maybe that is because Spade had been fooling around with Archer's wife Iva (Gladys George), but it is more about a cynical world view that permeates the entire film. Later when Captain Jacoby (Walter Huston, uncredited) staggers into Spade's office and dies, Spade only regrets the man did not live a bit longer so he could have been questioned. Not even his love for a woman can alter the course that Spade's moral compass provides ("If they hang you, I'll always remember you."). So closely associated with the role is Bogart it is hard to believe he only became involved with the project after George Raft declined the role.

The invaluable falcon statuette that causes the film's characters to collide is a lot less interesting than the characters themselves. With her portrayal of Brigid O'Shaughnessy, Mary Astor established the femme fatale archetype that would distinguish the film noir cycle, especially in the mid-to-late '40s. O'Shaughnessy is a great-looking woman, but cannot be trusted for anything but endless betrayal. At one point she even admits she is a chronic liar. Despite all of her obvious flaws, Spade still struggles with handing her over to the cops. That is what makes her so dangerous—men want to believe in her, even when they know she is thoroughly deceptive. Iva Archer is not a much better representation of woman; she seems fine about her husband being out of the way since she prefers Spade anyway. Spade's faithfully attentive assistant Effie Perine (Lee Patrick) embodies the film’s ideal female, one with traits Spade considers more representative of a trustworthy male. Interestingly, she does not see O'Shaughnessy to be the menace she actually is. The assortment of criminals is led by Kasper Gutman, a man of culture as portrayed by Sydney Greenstreet, a veteran of the stage making his screen debut. Gutman's gunman/boyfriend Wilmer Cook is perfectly realized in a supporting performance by Elisha Cook Jr., who made a long career of playing wannabes not built to last.

Scene Still

I have screened THE MALTESE FALCON in many different home video incarnations, but the large screen experience made me more aware of the film's finer details, especially in terms of its exceptional performances. O'Shaughnessy comes close to cracking up when Spade bamboozles the police. Wilmer Cook indeed looks like the "boy" he is accused of being when he realizes he has been deemed the most expedient fall guy. With his scented calling card, the flamboyant Joel Cairo (Peter Lorre) makes a perfect nemesis for Spade; talk about two polar opposites in one room! In a film absolutely loaded with great lines, Cairo probably has the best one when he tells Spade, "Our private conversations have not been such that I am anxious to continue them."

Hammett's 1929 novel was filmed twice before the Huston interpretation. Director Roy Del Ruth's early "talkie" THE MALTESE FALCON was released in 1931, followed by William Dieterle's SATAN MET A LADY in 1936. The second film's cinematographer Arthur Edeson served in the same capacity for the Huston film, definitely the standout of the three adaptations. Academy Award nominations included Best Picture, Best Screenplay, and Best Supporting Actor (Greenstreet).

GILDA (1946)

Columbia Pictures Corporation, 110m 23s

"You do hate me, don't you Johnny?"

"I don't think you have any idea how much."

On a dock in Buenos Aires, Argentina, loaded-dice gambler Johnny Farrell (Glenn Ford) is rescued from an attempted holdup by Ballin Mundson (George Macready), who diffuses the situation with a walking cane that doubles as a dangerous dagger. The dual nature of the cane introduces GILDA's recurring motif in regard to things that may be something other than what they at first appear, and certainly the cane's owner represents another ambiguity factor. "I lead the life I like to lead," Ballin assures Johnny, as the two carry on a conversation rich with homoerotic connotations. Ballin invites Johnny to his casino, and almost instantly Johnny becomes Ballin's most trusted man. As the two build a close relationship, Johnny even compares himself to Ballin's phallic cane. Though Ballin openly theorizes "gambling and women do not mix," complications are triggered when Ballin violates this doctrine and impulsively weds Gilda (Rita Hayworth), to whom Johnny is stunned to be introduced.

Gilda and Johnny became acquainted long ago, but the background of their relationship is left as the film's variation on the MacGuffin plot device. What went wrong, disastrously wrong it seems, is never explained. All that matters is they hate each other. What is more clear is Ballin's new bride is one high-maintenance babe. Apparently having married him for the money, Gilda spends a minimum of time with her new husband, instead showing preference for the willing company of both attractive local men and free-wheeling out-of-towners. At the same time, Gilda has no issue with the idea of being a kept woman. Johnny has a big problem with that moral accommodation, no doubt because of his own ties to the same benefactor.

Though the story is easy enough to follow as directed by Charles Vidor, the love triangle between Gilda, Johnny and Ballin is geometrically complex in terms of unresolved feelings, sexual repression, sexual freedom, and shame. Johnny's devotion to a male partner in part may be connected to his deep disappointment with Gilda, and his exasperation about her choice for a new husband. Whether Johnny is jealous of Ballin or Gilda sometimes is left to viewer conjecture, but the romantic connection between Johnny and Ballin is granted far too much screen time to be dismissed as a hazy subtext. During a dinner table conversation that serves a hearty main course of sexual tension for subjective consumption, Johnny registers resentment that Gilda has returned to inject turmoil into his life. Ballin proposes a toast to the three of them that echoes his earlier toast to the union of Johnny, himself, and his dagger-cane, Ballin's "little friend." Johnny notes Ballin's cane must be female "because it looks like one thing, then right in front of your eyes it becomes another thing." Though Johnny seems to be taking a shot at his ex, he just as easily could be referring to Ballin. Later Ballin is the jealous half of the male couple, as the two converse obliquely about "swimming." As the intensity of the fire between Johnny and Gilda heats up, the cane comes to stand for Ballin's sexual confusion and probable impotence. The cane-wielding Ballin recalls another cane, the ambitious Charles Foster Kane (Orson Welles) from CITIZEN KANE (1941). Ballin hopes to control the global supply of tungsten necessary to incandescent lighting, but much like Kane, his professional struggles are tied to losing control of one woman.

Working from Jo Eisinger's adaptation of a story by E.A. Ellington, screenwriter Marion Parsonnet's finished product is embedded with lots of uncertainties and false appearances. A cynical "peasant" becomes the manager of an upper-scale casino, games that appear legit are rigged, businesses that appear legal are illegal, and life is confused with death. Of course the film's greatest enigma is Gilda, whose flirtatious antics would drive any husband nuts, especially a certain ex-husband; Johnny gets pretty rough with Gilda on more than one occasion. But when her second rendition of "Put the Blame on Mame" degenerates into a striptease, is she really the thoughtless tramp she projects? Hate and love are so intermixed in GILDA, one wonders if it is precisely Johnny's dark half that appeals to her. During an embrace, she tells him, "I hate you so much that I think I'm going to die from it." Those are some strange words of adoration. Johnny's occasional narration includes one of the genre's great lines, "She was in the air I breathed, in the food I ate."

Contextualized by the presence of post-war Nazis with big plans deep within the international business underworld, GILDA was released within the classic film noir period of the last '40s. Oddly enough, there has been some critical debate as to whether GILDA is representative of the film noir movement, which I find puzzling, even if you do not buy into the notion that Gilda qualifies as a femme fatale. For unquestionably noir material, one need only look to the perverse sexuality of the film's final act, when Johnny endeavors to keep Gilda faithful to a dead man! If that is not film noir, nothing is.

The unsatisfying concluding sequence attempts to remedy almost two hours of incivilities. Unfortunately, the resolution phoned in from CASABLANCA (1942), the narrative's obvious source of inspiration, does not dovetail very well with the bitter love/hate dynamic that makes GILDA so resonantly noir for most of its runtime. With the threat of the liberated sexuality Gilda embodied for most of the film neutralized, Johnny safely can leave for America with the Gilda he still loves (hates?). Despite a conclusion without a kernel of truth to it, there is precious little else to bother a film noir fan. The performances by the leads are nuanced enough to offer something new upon every viewing, and the B&W cinematography only adds to the sense of intrigue. Director of photography Rudolph Maté later shot THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI (1947), another justly famous Hayworth noir vehicle, and would himself direct the important noir works THE DARK PAST (1948), UNION STATION (1950) and the unremittingly bleak D.O.A. (1950). Prior to GILDA, Ford and Hayworth already had teamed up for THE LADY IN QUESTION (1940). Again they would work together in THE LOVES OF CARMEN (1948), AFFAIR IN TRINIDAD (1952) and THE MONEY TRAP (1965).

The Criterion Collection's new 1080P dual-layered Blu-ray presentation of GILDA boasts a new 2K digital restoration framed at 1.33:1. The new HD transfer utilized a 35mm fine-grain master derived from the original camera negative. The restorative work was completed by UCLA Film and Television Archive in cooperation with Sony Pictures Entertainment, the Library of Congress, and the National Film and Television Archive (U.K.). With solid film grain representation and excellent contrast, a Hollywood studio system classic is upheld. The film's production design really comes to life in this restored version, with director Vidor's masterful grasp of mise-en-scène always evident. "The Long Shadow of GILDA" essay included from critic Sheila O’Malley gives the viewer an indication of just how far the influence of GILDA extended:

"The shadow of Rita Hayworth in GILDA has stretched across the culture for almost seventy years now. In 1946, the United States conducted a couple of atomic bomb tests on Bikini Atoll in the Marshall Islands. The first bomb dropped was named Gilda."

Foremost among the assorted extras is an interview (22m 13s) with film noir historian Eddie Muller. Recorded in 2015 for The Criterion Collection, the author of DARK CITY DAMES: THE WICKED WOMEN OF FILM NOIR (2001) wonders what type of impression viewers were left with after GILDA's original theatrical run. With its dark tone and strong suggestion that the Glenn Ford character is bisexual, was GILDA the Production Code era's MULHOLLAND DRIVE (2001)? Muller is in top form throughout, especially when he advances the notion that producer Virginia Van Upp may have considered the Ballin Mundson character an interpretation of Columbia Pictures Corporation boss Harry Cohn, who constantly reminded Hayworth she was his "property." In what amounts to a special treat for those who notice subtextual meaning in film, Muller recalls screening GILDA with its director Vidor's ex-wife Evelyn Keyes, who confirmed the scene that shows Hayworth bending over to reach a waist-high cigarette lighter held by Ford indeed was constructed to suggest fellatio.

A welcome vintage extra is an episode of the NBC television documentary series HOLLYWOOD AND THE STARS that originally aired in 1964. Narrated by the familiar voice of Joseph Cotten, "The Odyssey of Rita Hayworth" (25m 11s) explores the early career of Margarita Carmen Cansino, who became a professional dancer at the age of 12. Her dancing ability led to roles in B-films at Fox as Rita Cansino before she became Rita Hayworth while under contract at Columbia. At the age of only 23, she appeared in YOU'LL NEVER GET RICH (1941) with Fred Astaire, who later said Hayworth was his favorite dancing partner. The episode pays a lot of attention to the dancing ability of the "love goddess," her marriages to Orson Welles and then Prince Aly Khan, and her transition to dramatic roles, i.e. FIRE DOWN BELOW (1957), SEPARATE TABLES (1958) and CIRCUS WORLD (1964), in which she portrays the mother of Claudia Cardinale's character.

Additional supplements were extracted from the 2010 edition of GILDA released by Sony Pictures Home Entertainment. The audio commentary track features Richard Schickel, the former film critic for TIME magazine. Despite numerous lapses in his comments, Schickel adds a fair amount of critical insight. He recognizes film noir as a specifically post-WWII development, with male fears and anxieties about the liberation of women central to the genre. He notes women play more active roles than they had in the past, with men oddly passive. My favorite Schickel comment recalls his memory of quoting the line about women and insects among his high school pals. In another reflection on the movie under review, filmmakers Martin Scorsese and Baz Luhrmann discuss the historical significance of GILDA, particularly in terms of Hayworth's performance and her heightened level of glamour (16m 6s). A theatrical trailer (2m 9s) is also included.

PITFALL (1948)

Regal Films, 85m 55s

After storming film noir gates with MURDER, MY SWEET (1944), Dick Powell brought his diverse acting talents to other important noir works, including CORNERED (1945), JOHNNY O'CLOCK (1947) and CRY DANGER (1951). He also made his directorial debut in the genre with the tense SPLIT SECOND (1953). Roughly in the center of his noir output lies PITFALL, an independent production that recalls plot mechanics of the classic noir DOUBLE INDEMNITY (1944) and the structural framework of the prior year's NORA PRENTISS (1947). That is not to suggest similarities to other noir titles diminish the obvious worth of PITFALL, one of the most realistically dramatic instances of the sometimes surreal genre.

PITFALL opens with the traditional family breakfast, where LA-based insurance man John Forbes (Dick Powell) expresses discontent with the daily rat race. His frustrated train of thought continues at the workplace when he comments he will require a heavy dose of alcohol to make it through yet another weekly bridge game. The new path Forbes seeks is cleared by private investigator J.B. MacDonald (Raymond Burr), who reluctantly points Forbes toward a blonde temptress.

Firmly within the context of film noir conventions, Forbes gets his first look at Mona Stevens (Lizabeth Scott) via flattering glamour pictures and body measurements. When the real Stevens enters the room adorned in short shorts, the potential problem she presents to the married man is beyond debate. Temptations aside, Forbes has justification for being in her apartment. Stevens's embezzling significant other Bill Smiley (Byron Barr, DOUBLE INDEMNITY [1944]) was bonded by the firm where Forbes is employed. Especially surprising for any film noir exercise, Stevens is a temptress only in terms of her attractive appearance. She explains Smiley was mistaken when he thought the way to her heart was through the acquisition of ill-gotten material items. The afternoon conversation shared by Forbes and Stevens is convincingly well-written; in effect the two make a silent contract. Each is exactly what the other needs, if only for the moment.

Director André De Toth, Veronica Lake's husband and also the director of the revered film noir CRIME WAVE (1954), brings noir concerns to a suburban atmosphere mostly void of the genre's forbidding urban settings and nightmarish visual setups. Karl Kamb's screenplay, adapted from the novel THE PITFALL by Jay Dratler, stands unwaveringly on the side of the story's major female characters, a fairly unique treatment in respect to noir releases of the late 1940s. The hapless model Stevens is far from the ball-busting femme fatale suggested by the film's theatrical poster. Her only flaw, a tragic one, revolves around the males who are drawn to her, though that magnetic quality is not advanced as her fault. The narrative also sympathizes with the strong wife and mother Sue Forbes (Jane Wyatt, BOOMERANG! [1947], HOUSE BY THE RIVER [1950], THE MAN WHO CHEATED HIMSELF [1950]). By virtue of its startlingly frank concluding scene, PITFALL imparts a guardedly optimistic outlook on marital infidelity and its troublesome aftermath.

The dark personality of this film noir is the sexually obsessed detective character portrayed by Burr, a corpulent actor noted for playing film noir heavies, i.e. DESPERATE (1947), RAW DEAL (1948), THE BLUE GARDENIA (1953). His sinister stalker MacDonald is the type of conniving creep any woman would despise. Burr plays MacDonald as a relentless man in a trance, glass-eyed over his lust for a woman who conveys no interest in him. He somehow has it in his head that Stevens will learn to love him. At his most rotten, MacDonald inflames the hot temper and brooding jealousy of the imprisoned man Smiley. As good an example as any of the noir doppelgänger, the shadowy figure MacDonald embodies the repressed desires of the disillusioned veteran Forbes, who, interestingly, saw no action during the course of his service.

The single-layered Blu-ray version of PITFALL recently made available through Kino Lorber was mastered in HD from a 35mm negative preserved by the UCLA Film & Television Archive. The result is a noticeable improvement over the various public domain renditions of the film that have accumulated over the years, though contrast is a bit soft and surface scratches intrude at times. The correct original 1.37:1 theatrical aspect ratio with rounded corners is observed, despite Kino's packaging indication of 1.33:1.

The audio commentary track is anchored by the always reliable Eddie Muller, who directs the viewer's eye to the many subtle filmmaking efficiencies of De Toth, as well as the director's occasional shortcomings. Muller sees Stevens as the archetypal noir protagonist whose past events threaten the present, as is the case in OUT OF THE PAST (1947). Working toward a definition of film noir, Muller notes Forbes feels compelled to return to the apartment of Stevens despite knowing full well that is the exact opposite of the right thing to do. In the noir world, knowingly doing the wrong thing is standard behavior.

BIG HOUSE, U.S.A. (1955)

United Artists, 83m 19s

Released toward the end of the classic film noir period, the relatively obscure title BIG HOUSE, U.S.A. warrants no mention in the indispensible book FILM NOIR: AN ENCYCLOPEDIC REFERENCE TO THE AMERICAN STYLE (3rd Edition, The Overlook Press, 1992). The omission is understandable on some grounds, especially since the noir straggler does not employ quite the same visual iconography associated with the best-remembered examples of the genre. As directed by Howard W. Koch (UNTAMED YOUTH [1957], VIOLENT ROAD [1958]), the straightforward narrative plays out under primarily bright exteriors, including impressive location footage captured in Royal Gorge, Colorado, without one detour into shabby urban locales where shadowy figures so often dominate noir geography. From the very beginning, though, persistently low camera angles consistent with the noir cycle subtly hint of things to come in the screenplay written by John C. Higgins, whose writing energized some of the grittiest noir films of the prior decade, including RAILROADED! (1947), T-MEN (1947), RAW DEAL (1948), HE WALKED BY NIGHT (1948) and BORDER INCIDENT (1949), all directed by the great Anthony Mann.

After the opening credits, a gunshot signals the start of an athletic event at a children's camp. Fragile participant Danny Lambert (Peter J. Votrian) collapses from severe asthma symptoms. When camp nurse Emily Evans (Randy [Felicia] Farr) attempts to calm the boy with an injection, Danny's acute fear of needles prompts him to flee into the wilderness. A wandering fisherman named Jerry Barker (Ralph Meeker) happens on the lad, and we fear the worst since that character is portrayed by Meeker (KISS ME DEADLY [1955]). The idea that Barker could be a man of impeccable integrity seems doubtful.

Jerry Barker (Ralph Meeker) seldom looks innocent

The film's second act introduces prison film conventions that nudge the film deeper into noir terrain. The focus shifts to the incarceration of Barker, deemed "The Iceman" for his ability to keep his mouth closed. He is sent to Cascabel Island Prison, where the inmates are aware he is a reputed child killer, the worst type of criminal. Barker is assigned to a "Lion's Den" packed with hardened criminals, led by infamous bank robber Rollo Lamar (Broderick Crawford), who is complemented by a convincing assembly of noir thugs:  William "Machine Gun" Mason (William Talman), "wetback smuggler" Alamo Smith (Lon Chaney Jr.) and the dangerously volatile Benny Kelly (Charles Bronson). The institution's boiler room provides a particularly appropriate noir crucible for such a salty crew; the sweat and grime of the hard labor performed within the underground mechanical facility is palpable.

Accompanied by sometimes intrusive narration, BIG HOUSE, U.S.A. is a procedural noir in the spirit of T-MEN and HE WALKED BY NIGHT. Productive cooperation is emphasized between Chief Ranger Will Erickson (Roy Roberts) and Special FBI Agent James Madden (Reed Hadley, PUBLIC DEFENDER [1954-1955]). Police procedural exercises almost always convey the identical meaning:  the law-abiding public is in good hands with the local and national law enforcement systems. No stone is left unturned in the pursuit of criminals who make the general populace feel unsafe. In the film's resolution, a big-time criminal who callously calls for the death of anyone not useful to him is shown to be a complete coward when confronted by organized authority.

Additional film noir tropes are observed by way of the narrative's criminal couple. An attractive woman with a checkered past, Nurse Evans certainly fits the bill as the resident monstrous feminine personality. Not only does she set the stage for Danny's disappearance, she presciently figures in his connection with Barker, the doomed male disliked equally by law enforcement officials and criminals. Fate brings Barker to the wounded bird Danny, each predestined to encounter the other. But the most impactful noir moments of BIG HOUSE, U.S.A. are the darkly disturbing ones:  Barker's unceremonious disposal of a small, lifeless body, a painful death within the prison's titanic boiler system, the blunt-force murder of an escaped convict and the subsequent disfigurement of his facial features. No wonder the film's theatrical poster advised, "SUITABLE ONLY FOR ADULTS."

The elder Rollo Lamar (Broderick Crawford) in charge

While not without its imperfections, BIG HOUSE, U.S.A. is tightly-crafted and surprisingly intense at times. I found myself thinking about it over the next few days after first watching it and that always means something. Framed at the original theatrical aspect ratio of 1.75:1, the single-layered Blu-ray version recently made available through Kino Lorber presents the film in a newly re-mastered HD transfer that does justice to the assured B&W cinematography of Gordon Avil (THE CHAMP [1931]).