Host
Eddie Muller introduced CONFLICT and
ESCAPE IN THE FOG yesterday
afternoon to kick off the weekend of film
noir titles at NOIR CITY: CHICAGO 2018. This year's theme is the
reinstatement of the double feature, which means a proper A title is followed
by a B selection.
Marital
discord strikes a sour note in some of the most famous of film noirs, such as DOUBLE
INDEMNITY (1944), MILDRED PIERCE
(1945) and SCARLET STREET (1945), to
name just several. The presence of the crippled man—Richard in this case—is an
important interrelated motif. Wheelchairs, canes and crutches assist such men
who cannot or will not find a healthy release for sexual energy. The car crash
coincides with a trip inside Richard's warped mind and marks a major turning
point with no way back. His internal conflicts become externalized, and the
wife he no longer loves will not be in the way much longer, or so he thinks.
The
application of psychoanalysis would become a fixture of 1940s Hollywood cinema,
and was particularly prevalent in the noir
production, with its focus so often on the mental anguish of its lead
protagonist. CONFLICT was among the
first noir narratives to exploit the
theme, followed by many others such as THE
DARK MIRROR (1946), SHOCK
(1946), NIGHTMARE ALLEY (1947) and THE DARK PAST (1948). Richard plans the
murder of his wife cleverly enough to avoid prosecution through traditional
police investigation work, but psychology is used to disorient him, to make an
already unstable personality increasingly more brittle. In yet another theme
that would work its way into various film
noirs, Richard is forced to question whether his wife is really dead or if he
is going insane. Such confusion between the living and the dead is associated
more commonly with the horror film, in many ways the noir film's closest cousin. In its resolution, CONFLICT sounds the alarm for the union of police procedure with
psychoanalysis.
Director
Curtis Bernhardt would add to his film
noir credentials with POSSESSED
(1947) and HIGH WALL (1947).
Cinematographer Merritt B. Gerstad had shot THE UNKNOWN (1927), a fantastic silent horror film. The screenplay
was written by Arthur T. Horman and Dwight Taylor. Source material is credited
to the original story THE PENTACLE by Robert Siodmak and Alfred Neumann.
Humphrey Bogart would return to similar grounds in THE TWO MRS. CARROLLS (1947), where he again would portray a man
who prefers the Alexis Smith character over his wife.
CONFLICT is
available on DVD via Warner Archive and should be added to all film noir collections.
The
B portion of the double feature was ESCAPE
IN THE FOG, released the same year as CONFLICT,
but without the heavy dose of film noir
themes and motifs to be found in its A partner. The bottom half of the double
feature is a forgettable espionage thriller, with too many improbabilities for
its own good. It is mainly notable for being an early directorial effort from
Budd Boetticher (credited here as Oscar Boetticher Jr.). Boetticher would helm
a couple of proper noirs in the
future:BEHIND LOCKED DOORS (1948) and THE
KILLER IS LOOSE (1956). By his own admission, ESCAPE IN THE FOG is evidence of a filmmaker learning his trade on
the job.
As
our host Muller pointed out, screenwriter Aubrey Wisberg had a knack for
grinding out wartime B scripts, with credits that include THEY CAME TO BLOW UP AMERICA (1943), U-BOAT PRISONER (1944) and BETRAYAL
FROM THE EAST (1945). Lead actress Nina Foch would grace us with her
presence in some of the better film noirs
of the decade:MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS (1945), JOHNNY
O'CLOCK (1947) and THE DARK PAST
(1948). Top-billed Otto Kruger (SABOTEUR
[1942]) has precious little screen time. Shelley Winters jumps out at the
viewer in an early uncredited role as a cab driver.
ESCAPE IN THE FOG is
available on DVD from Sony Pictures.
Undoubtedly
one of the great film noir title
treatments, I WALK ALONE denounces unchecked
capitalism in a decadent post-WWII society. Cruel selfishness as the essence of
successful American business is the overriding theme of this historically
significant if somewhat routine genre entry, released within the classic stage
of the noir movement (1944-1950). It
features Burt Lancaster, who already had earned his noir street cred with THE
KILLERS (1946), BRUTE FORCE
(1947) and DESERT FURY (1947).
A
free man in New York City after 14 years of exclusion from law-abiding folks,
the embittered, short-tempered Frankie Madison (Lancaster) looks to reinsert
himself into his only familiar equation. He boldly heads to the Regent Club,
where his old bootlegging buddy Noll "Dink" Turner (Kirk Douglas) has
prospered since Frankie's prison stretch. Noll never bothered to visit his whiskey-running
partner while Frankie took the rap for a killing in which they both factored,
but Frankie nonetheless fully expects Noll to honor a handshake agreement the
two made. As the film’s title foretells, Noll's recollection of the spirit of
the agreement differs from that of Frankie, whose temerity will be squashed.
Like
BODY AND SOUL (1947), FORCE OF EVIL (1948), NIGHT AND THE CITY (1950) and many
other examples of noir, I WALK ALONE adopts a Marxist view of
capitalism that reflects ideological anxieties of the day, as well as the
looming presence of The House Committee on Un-American Activities. If the Noll
character provides any indication, the dirtier the American businessman
operates, the greater his potential reward. He turns on everyone sooner or
later and acts only in the interest of maintaining his lofty position in the
Regent Club's organizational structure, which gradually is revealed to be quite
intricate. The relative simplicity of an illegal depression-era bootlegging
business has been replaced by a night club operation's various levels of
management and ownership, none of which can be deciphered easily. As explained
by the browbeaten accountant Dave (Wendell Corey), the Regent Club was chopped
up between multiple corporations, with a board of directors that would have to
approve the new deal Frankie seeks. In other words, even if he so desired, Noll
could not give half of the club's business to Frankie. It seems the legitimate
business world has become more corrupt and prone to backstabbing than the age
of prohibition ever was. It is a place where a reprehensible man like Noll can
thrive despite (or, it is inferred, because of) a sordid past riddled with
betrayals. His air of haughtiness is well illustrated by the button under his
desk used to covertly summon assistance whenever necessary. Who but a
megalomaniac would keep such a device at his disposal?
The
difference between the gangster film of the 1930s and the noir film of the 1940s is evident when Frankie foolishly attempts
to use prohibition-era bravado to capture “his” portion of the club. The
deliberately convoluted nature of business finds perfect positioning in the urban
jungle of film noir, where the
average person often feels unfairly excluded. "The old days are gone, and
you're gone with them," a humiliated Frankie is told. Fists clenched in
existential frustration, he throws what amounts to a temper tantrum when
confronted with the confusing reality of the night club's ownership. Frankie's
hopes are deflated like a week-old birthday balloon, as he learns the hard way
the business world is a playground that shuns certain children. The theme of
the alienated protagonist, who finds no dignified path to follow in a land of
social inequality, provides the backbone for a large assortment of film noirs. That recurring message is
reinforced in I WALK ALONE when
Frankie is beaten severely for his attempt to move in on what he understandably
believes to be his rightful piece of the action.
"You're hurting me." "And you love it."
The
source material for I WALK ALONE is
the play BEGGARS ARE COMING TO TOWN written by Theodore Reeves. Producer Hal B.
Wallis (LITTLE CAESAR [1931], CASABLANCA [1942]) acquired the film
rights before the play opened on Broadway in the autumn of 1945. The adaptation
was written for the screen by Charles Schnee, the screenwriter behind the
quintessential noirTHEY LIVE BY NIGHT (1948). Schnee
worked from a treatment derived by Robert Smith and John Bright. The
directorial debut of Byron Haskin, I
WALK ALONE does not serve up as crisp a narrative as similarly structured noirs like KISS OF DEATH (1947) or RAW
DEAL (1948). Nonetheless, the simple plot mechanics are built to last, and
the credits boast a murderers' row of dependable names instantly familiar to film noir followers. Any seasoned cinema
fan knows better than to trust a character portrayed by Kirk Douglas, who so
often plays the bad apple, as he did here in his fourth screen role. I WALK ALONE was the first of seven films that teamed Douglas and Lancaster. The two make for an interesting combination
in their first pairing, and contributions from Wendell Corey, Marc Lawrence and
the big dog Mike Mazurki are easy to appreciate. Lizabeth Scott for whatever
reason appears a bit lost at times as Kay Lawrence. Too often, Liz resorts to
her deer-in-the-headlights look, and her unconvincing lip sync of "Don't
Call It Love" (performed by Trudy Stevens) hardly helps matters. In the
following years, she would rebound with some of her finest work in PITFALL (1948) and TOO LATE FOR TEARS (1949), the latter also helmed by Haskin. I WALK ALONE was a commercial success
and inspired a 60-minute radio adaptation by Lux Radio Theater on May 24th,
1948, with Lancaster and Scott on board.
Brand
new to the domestic home video scene, I
WALK ALONE recently has been made available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber.
The single-layered disc features a new HD Master from a 4K scan of the 35mm
safety dupe negative held by Paramount Pictures Archive. The film is framed at
the correct theatrical aspect ratio of 1.37:1, though the packaging claims an
incorrect 1.33:1. Grain level is palpable, perhaps a little too much of a good
thing, but that does not diminish the cinematography effort of Leo Tover, the
director of photography behind two other film
noirs released in 1947:DEAD RECKONING and THE WOMAN ON THE BEACH.
The
newly recorded audio commentary track features film historian Troy Howarth, a
specialist in the Eurohorror field, with numerous books to his credit on the
subject. Some of his other recent commentary tracks include THE HOUSE THAT DRIPPED BLOOD (1971), WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOUR DAUGHTERS?
(1974), THE PAJAMA GIRL CASE (1977)
and ZOMBIE (1979), but in no way is
that meant to suggest he is out of his element here. A voice of contagious
enthusiasm, Howarth frames his discussion of I WALK ALONE well within the generally accepted body of film noir knowledge. He effortlessly
glides back and forth between insightful play-by-play, historical footnotes,
and cast and crew filmographies. Obviously a tremendous amount of research goes
into a 97-minute commentary, but it does not seem like work to Howarth, who
makes it sound like a pleasant conversation. Classic film fans are sure to side
with his fondness for the studio system era and its many hallmarks that have
vanished (most actors smoke, wear sophisticated attire and navigate attentively
detailed sets). Lots of care went into making every person and every thing look
as good as possible. Some of his best points revolve around the Frankie
character's challenge to the Production Code. Frankie is not an innocent man
who was imprisoned, yet is presented in sympathetic, borderline heroic
capacity. Thus I WALK ALONE is a film noir laced with more optimism than
the genre tends to grant, especially at this stage of its development. After the lead protagonist deals with significant adversity, the denouement salutes his rugged individualism.
In
his tangential review of the "wrong man" film noir subgenre, Howarth draws a connection with the Alfred
Hitchcock oeuvre, and cites I CONFESS
(1953) and THE WRONG MAN (1956) as
straggler instances of Hitchcockian noir.
After a minor buildup, it comes as a bit of a surprise Howarth does not
recognize Hitchcock as a major contributor to the noir category, despite overtly noir
Hitchcock products he does not mention, namely SHADOW OF A DOUBT (1943), NOTORIOUS
(1946) and STRANGERS ON A TRAIN
(1951). Those three films represent some of the most satisfying storylines
Hitchcock ever committed to celluloid, as well as some of the most complete
cinematic achievements film noir has
to offer. The remaining supplemental material is limited to an assortment of
trailers.
Despite
its absence until recently on physical media, I WALK ALONE had its influence on a couple of crime film parodies
released in the 1980s. Via editing, the Kirk Douglas character
"meets" Rigby Reardon (Steve Martin) in DEAD MEN DON'T WEAR PLAID (1982). Along with FAREWELL, MY LOVELY (1975), I
WALK ALONE is another film that obviously was perused before the writing of
THE NAKED GUN: FROM THE FILES OF POLICE
SQUAD! (1988).
After
he sees his family out of town, Richard Wanley (Edward G. Robinson) plans to
enjoy a few drinks and cigars amongst friends. On his way to The Burgher's
Club, the somewhat meek assistant psychology professor becomes enchanted with
an idealistic portrait in a gallery window of a lovely young woman. He seems a
bit uncertain as to why he is so drawn to the image, but so he is, and his
amused friends cannot blame him. Sometimes the woman's portrait in the film noir acts as a gateway drug to the
dark side, where an inexorable downward spiral ensues. That is the underlying
theme of this finely crafted noir
work from 1944, one of the most important years of the genre, frontloaded with
such gems as DOUBLE INDEMNITY, MURDER MY SWEET, LAURA and PHANTOM LADY.
Over
alcoholic beverages that surely influence the story to come, Richard converses
with pals District Attorney Frank Lalor (Raymond Massey) and Dr. Michael
Barkstane (Edmund Breon). The three men lament the aging process and its
associated limitations, especially in terms of the pleasures of younger women.
Frank opines, "We're like athletes who are out of condition. We can't
handle that sort of thing anymore." After his comrades retire for the
evening, Richard opens the book THE SONG OF SONGS WHICH IS SOLOMON'S, a
celebration of unbridled love between man and woman. Later that evening,
Richard cannot resist the magnetic pull next door of the portrait he found so
evocative of female charms. Such framed perfection in the film noir almost always hints at a woman not easily contained or
understood, as is the lesson of the same year's LAURA. With his second viewing of the framed beauty, this time
Richard is stunned to notice the manifestation of the actual countenance of the
model who posed for the oil painting. That woman is Alice Reed (Joan Bennett),
and without a doubt she is better looking than the painting. Despite all the
admiration in the world for her classic looks, Richard has so little idea how
to proceed that Alice picks him up,
not the other way. That is the major tip-off we are watching a male fantasy
unfold, where a reluctant man is targeted by an attractive younger female.
Fantasy meets reality in THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW
A
creature of the night, Alice does not consider 11 PM late, as Richard does. A
drink at a bar soon leads to her apartment, where she promises more artwork
that depicts her. What neither of them foresee is an impromptu visit from
Alice's brutish sugar daddy Frank (Arthur Loft), whose arrival is accompanied
by heavy rainfall, a recurring backdrop of uncertainty in the noir film. Frank promptly attacks the
man he sees as his rival, and Richard defends himself with a pair of scissors
provided by Alice. The net-net is a sizable dead body and an awfully tough
situation for Richard and Alice to consider. The sudden problem of a corpse in
an apartment building catapults the unlikely couple deep into the unforgiving film noir orbit. Richard ever so briefly
considers notifying the police, but it is not long before he makes his debut in
the body disposal business while a thunderstorm rages in the background. As
Richard drives off into the night with a lifeless body to dump, there is a cut
to a fascinating composition of Alice, who observes from her apartment window.
Completely washed away is the romanticized version of Alice depicted in the painting.
Now an accessory to murder, her replacement image is obscured by rainfall and
contradicts what her idealized likeness had suggested early in the film.
Alice through the looking glass
Without
much delay, the discarded body of Alice's benefactor is discovered by a Boy
Scout (George "Spanky" McFarland). The case captures the interest of
Richard's friend the D.A., who soon connects with Inspector Jackson (Thomas E.
Jackson) of the homicide division. What plays out from that point only can be
described as the worst imaginable predicament for Richard, who has little
choice but to observe as the case is investigated right in front of him! Essentially
the same thing happens to Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) in DOUBLE INDEMNITY, with hard-boiled claims investigator Barton Keyes
(Robinson) unaware for much of his search how close he already is to the offender.
The shoe is on the other foot here, as THE
WOMAN IN THE WINDOW casts Robinson in the role of the man under scrutiny
who looks more guilty with every passing minute.
Despite
an ending that smacks of Production Code compliance, THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW encapsulates standard film noir themes throughout its mostly nightmarish narrative. The
film takes a hard line on men who contemplate a life outside of traditional
family values. From the early going, the many temptations that test Richard
revolve around his absent family. Without his wife and children home to keep
him honest, Richard drinks more than usual and stays out later than what would
be typical, which leads to a one-on-one situation with an enticing woman. Fate
often brings a heavy hand down on such errant men in the film noir, where self-assured, sexy women like Alice are best kept
at a distance. Another enormous red flag and noir trope is Alice's mysterious man with multiple identities
(Frank Howard / Claude Mazard). One thing swiftly leads to another in Richard's
parabolic decline, as advanced police investigation techniques all but assure
his eventual arrest and conviction. Beyond THE
WOMAN IN THE WINDOW and its progenitor DOUBLE
INDEMNITY, other film noirs in
which a man must watch his own crime case gradually solved include WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS (1950) and SCANDAL SHEET (1952). The template is
well suited to the noir genre, where
the protagonist's sense of paranoia is seldom without validity.
Family pics become more prominent each time Alice calls Richard
Set
in New York, though filmed mostly on soundstages, THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW was written for the screen by producer
Nunnally Johnson, who adapted the best-selling novel ONCE OFF GUARD (1942) by
J.H. Wallis. Johnson had founded his own independent production company
International Pictures, and THE WOMAN IN
THE WINDOW became its top priority. The already incredibly accomplished
director Fritz Lang was the filmmaker behind M (1931), perhaps the very first film noir, and absolutely one of the most influential. This time
out Lang gets plenty out of his leads Robinson and Bennett, and superb
supporting work from Dan Duryea as Heidt, the dirty ex-cop wise to Alice. The
screen chemistry between Bennett and Duryea is sensational, and would continue
in Lang's subsequent noir masterpiece
SCARLET STREET (1945), which
reteamed Robinson, Bennett and Duryea, as well as talented cinematographer
Milton R. Krasner. Besides their common contributors and some shared plot
points, both THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW
and SCARLET STREET revolve around
portraits that come to life (in SCARLET
STREET it happens twice, first literally then figuratively). LUX RADIO
THEATER produced a 60 minute radio adaptation of THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW on June 25, 1945. Robinson, Bennett, and Duryea
assumed their film roles.
Remastered
in HD and framed at 1.34:1, the new Kino Lorber single-layered Blu-ray edition
of THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW vastly
improves upon the screen output generated by the MGM Home Video DVD released
back in 2007. Though an obvious upgrade, this new presentation does fall a
little short of perfection. Gatefloat can be a little nagging, various vertical
scratches are apparent, and damaged film elements are intrusive at times
(especially at 19m 43s).
Kino Lorber Blu-ray
MGM DVD
The
newly recorded audio commentary track features film historian Imogen Sara
Smith, author of IN LONELY PLACES: FILM NOIR BEYOND THE CITY (2011). Smith
labels THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW among
the first of the new type of crime thriller French critics would deem film noir. Though many have derided the
ending that recalls THE WIZARD OF OZ
(1939), she builds a solid case for the conclusion in a Freudian sense. If a
man even fantasizes about an affair with a beautiful woman, he subconsciously
believes he must be punished, thus desire and fear are inseparable. Especially
upon repeat viewings, the ending fits perfectly well given the events that lead
to it. The sequence in which Alice suddenly springs to life from her portrait
is the stuff of dreams, not reality. The same goes for her attraction to
Richard, which even for the movies stretches plausibility. Smith also notes the
repeated use of reflected images that suggest an alternate reality. Another
good point from Smith is that Alice is not a pure femme fatale, since she does
not deliberately set out to destroy men. The classic femme fatale appears weak
only to prove strong later, i.e. Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) from DOUBLE INDEMNITY.
In
a discussion that dovetails with the Me Too movement, Smith confirms Fritz Lang
was one of numerous abusive directors of the studio system era. He would be
particularly tough on those who could not defend themselves, but would be less
domineering over stars who maintained clout with studio brass. Smith also
recounts the scandal that crushed Bennett's career like a steamroller. On the
afternoon of December 13, 1951, Bennett's agent Jennings Lang was shot twice
(below the waist!) by Bennett's husband Walter Wanger, who suspected his wife was having
an affair with her business associate. Wanger served a mere four-month sentence
for his crime, and then returned to a successful career as a movie producer.
Though she denied any romantic involvement with her agent, Bennett found roles
hard to come by after the incident, which sadly suggests implied adultery is
worse than attempted murder.
The
disc includes a trailer for the featured title as well as trailers for DAISY KENYON (1947), CRY OF THE CITY (1948), 99 RIVER STREET (1953) and A BULLET FOR JOEY (1955).
Guns
and sex combine explosively in GUN CRAZY,
a film noir concerned with violence,
lust and greed, in that order. It is the tragic story of a flawed man who falls
for a beautiful woman whose wants are excessive. As the title strongly implies,
GUN CRAZY also signals a stern
warning about the potentially corrosive nature of obsessive gun ownership, and
the horrible impact guns wielded by the wrong people can have on innocents.
The
narrative structure exploits the generally accepted Freudian assertion that
childhood experiences shape adult behavior. Bart Tare's obsession with firearms
has its roots in his early years in the small town of Cashville. As a youth
(portrayed by Mickey Little and Russ Tamblyn), being the best shot in town
makes him feel like "somebody." Bart has not had a male role model in
the house. He was raised by his older sister Ruby (Anabel Shaw) before his
repeated issues with gun possession get him four years of reform school. After
a stint in the military, as an adult (now played by John Dall) his only
civilian ambition is to get a job with a gun manufacturer. His marksmanship is
all that defines his identity. Bart's plans for a simple existence go up in
flames one evening when his mates Sheriff Clyde Boston (Trevor Bardette) and
Dave Allister (Nedrick Young) suggest they check out the carnival, that
cesspool of base human instincts that provides a suitable setting within so
many films noir. When the three men
become enchanted by a couple of gyrating gypsy dancers, it becomes apparent
something is going to change in Bart's life, or perhaps already has changed.
With
Bart and his friends in attendance, "The famous, the dangerous, the
beautiful...so appealing, so dangerous, so lovely to look at..." Annie
Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins) is brought out to circus tent onlookers. How
interesting that the word “dangerous” is declared twice! She is an expert shot
with a revolver and, in essence, a bold challenge to the established patriarchal
order. In what only can be described as a mating ritual, Bart proves his
shooting skills are even sharper than those of Laurie. Rather than pursue a
career with a gun manufacturing outfit, Bart joins the travelling carnival to
be close to his exciting new romantic interest. That profession proves to be
short-lived when Laurie's former beau and carnival owner Packett (Berry
Kroeger) fires both of them out of jealousy. It is clear at that juncture
Packett has a serious drinking problem, and one wonders if Laurie provided some
type of contributory factor. No matter, Packett is old news to Laurie, and
things have heated up quickly for her and Bart, despite the rather pointed
advice of the circus clown Bluey-Bluey (Stanley Prager):
Bluey-Bluey:
"It's just that some guys are born smart about women and some guys are
born dumb."
Bart:
"Some guys are born clowns."
Bluey-Bluey:
"You were born dumb."
That
exchange conveys volumes about not only Bart Tare, but the major dynamic of an
entire film genre. The film noir is a
window into a world mostly controlled by fate, a place where individuals seem
unable to walk a straight line. It may be tempting to argue that troubled noir characters often bring about their
own misfortunes, and on a surface level at least, that seems a pretty reasonable
position. Interestingly, a clown best understands the choices we make may not
be of our own free will. Bluey-Bluey believes it was Bart's genetic destiny
("born") to encounter Laurie. Indeed Bart and Laurie go together like
guns and ammunition, as Bart simplistically summarizes it.
At
Bart's suggestion, the couple seeks out the nearest justice of the peace before
what looks to be a fairly routine sightseeing honeymoon. The connection between
them goes beyond circus showmanship, as the two seemingly share similar social
backgrounds. Bart's history is examined in greater depth, but Laurie provides a
clue to hers when she mentions, "...I've been kicked around all my life.
Well from now on I'm going to start kicking back." Predictably, their
money evaporates rapidly, and that is when a critical difference between the
two is grounded. Laurie convinces Bart his expertise with firearms could be utilized
for greater financial gain than a mere $40 per week at Remington. That salary
would be enough money for the two to make ends meet as far as he is concerned,
but money is important to Laurie, big money, and a substantial sum could be
made through a series of robberies, at least from her point of view. The other
major difference between the two is Laurie does not care if someone gets hurt
or even killed along the way. Bart killed a small creature with a BB gun as a
little boy and was reduced to tears. As a teen, he could not shoot a mountain
lion, despite the sound notion there could be a bounty involved. In direct
contrast to her husband, money would have been all the motivation Laurie would
have needed to kill. She clearly gets off on the thrill of violence, as the
below screen capture reveals in her slightly crazed countenance.
The noir femme fatale Annie Laurie Starr
The
warning signs about Laurie are many, especially in terms of a film noir vocabulary. For starters, she
is a foreigner from London, a big-city outsider who invades Bart's small
hometown. Before her tenure with Packett comes to an end, he pleads with her to
give him another opportunity to provide the endless money fountain she so
clearly requires. "Bart I want things, a lot of things, big
things..." she pours out to her husband. She even reprimands him lightly
for getting them fired before payday.
Prior to the marriage about which Laurie seems somewhat ambivalent, Bart is
embarrassed to confess he spent time in reform school. She couldn't care less,
and assures Bart she is no great prize herself. In defiance of patriarchal
hegemony, she is scolded by her female superior for wearing slacks to work.
Soon after that scene, Laurie kills two at a payroll heist of a meat packing
plant, and later admits she killed a guy in St. Louis during another armed
robbery. In the middle of a chase sequence she tries to retrieve the fur she
dropped, despite the fact the law is right behind her. In an insanely selfish
move with law enforcement closing in, she is prepared to hold a small child
hostage! In a departure from Bart's background, which by way of flashbacks show
him as an outcast even as a boy, it is suggested Laurie's childhood was less
tough when she fondly recalls her father's shooting gallery near Brighton Pier.
She endeavors to recreate that setting when the couple checks in at a hotel by
the Santa Monica Pier. Of course, there is no going back to an idyllic past,
not in real life and especially not in film
noir.
Despite
a number of successful stickups, Bart and Laurie wind up living in isolation
with no one to turn to, nowhere to go and certainly not an overabundance of
wealth. The lack of belonging they feel is accented by the carnival costumes
they wear during one heist, increasingly shoddy accommodations and Bart's sense
of disbelief that he could become so disconnected from what he once was.
"It's just that everything's going so fast, it's all in such high gear, sometimes
it doesn't feel like me...as if nothing were real anymore," he laments. In
her insightful essay "Woman's Place: The Absent Family of Film Noir"
(WOMEN IN FILM NOIR, British Film Institute, 1978), Sylvia Harvey explains how
alienation is a theme central to GUN
CRAZY (and other film noirs):"...the isolation of the couple as well
as their nonconformity to certain social norms is emphasized by the way in
which they are presented as outsiders to the family and family life. Taking
refuge with Bart's family at the end of the film, they so clearly do not
belong; they constitute a violent eruption into the ordered patterns of family
life" (p. 31). That sequence stresses the difference between Laurie and
Bart's sister Ruby, but is not exactly flattering to the honest working class.
Ruby embodies the dignified, law-abiding citizen, yet appears trapped in an
impoverished household. She spends most of her time wearing a smock in the
kitchen in selfless care of her children and their friends. That is not to
assume the filmmakers side with her antithesis Laurie, but the sequence does
provide food for thought as to why Laurie chose a different path. Especially to
a modern audience, it is difficult to imagine female viewers feeling envious of
Ruby's position in her incredibly modest home with never-ending chores. The
"best shots" with guns in genre films tend to be on the right side of
the law, but that is not the case in the universe suggested by GUN CRAZY, where honest work appears to
offer little reward. The film takes on its tragic element when Bart refuses to
turn himself in to his childhood pals, who both have become more traditional
contributors to small town Americana (a cop and a journalist). The tragedy is
culminated when Bart, who swore he never would kill a living thing again, feels
obligated to kill the thing he loves most. Just beforehand, Bart himself
acknowledges the story's tragic component when he declares he "...wouldn't
have it any other way."
A
number of sequences are sure to play quite differently to modern viewers than
they must have to folks who caught GUN
CRAZY in theaters back in 1950. In light of the many mass shootings at
public schools that have gained national attention in recent years, the scene
that shows a middle-school-aged Bart proudly showing his six-gun to fascinated
classmates has an unsettling tone, especially when he refuses to give up the
revolver to his teacher! Another moment that defies modern logic is the
unthinkably dangerous carnival shooting competition between Bart and Laurie.
Come on baby light my fire
The
overarching message regarding guns supports today's liberal convictions. Bart
would have been much better off had he been kept clear of firearms as a child.
Compulsive shooting converted him into an adult man with no other appreciable
skill set, an ironically useless figure as a gun expert who cannot kill. The
only thing he can do better than the next guy leads him to his fatalistic
carnival matchup with Laurie, the instrument of his destruction. Both Bart and Laurie feel compelled to shoot people when scared; the only
difference is Bart is better able to hold that feeling in check than the
clearly more unstable Laurie. Remove the gun from the situation, and any
socially problematic temptation goes along with it. In the final act, Clyde and
Dave go without guns to the home of
Bart's sister in an attempt to convince their old friend to surrender to local
authorities.
The
screenplay written by MacKinlay Kantor and Dalton Trumbo (front Millard
Kaufman) is based on the short story of the same title by Kantor (THE SATURDAY
EVENING POST, February 3rd, 1940). Before its release with the title we know
today, director Joseph H. Lewis's landmark film
noir was released in January of 1950 as DEADLY IS THE FEMALE. The original theatrical release did not
inspire an enthusiastic following and was re-titled GUN CRAZY in August of the same year. The botched nature of the
two-tiered release meant the film would not be respected as the classic it is
until film noir was rediscovered by
American audiences in the 1970s. The other noir
credits of director Joseph H. Lewis include the surprise hit MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS (1945), SO DARK THE NIGHT (1946), CRY OF THE HUNTED (1953) and the
exceptional title of noir's late
stages, THE BIG COMBO (1955). There
is little doubt GUN CRAZY should be
regarded as his most important film in regard to effective storytelling,
technical achievement and memorable performances. For several sequences,
Lewis's camera was placed in the back seat of the outlaw couple’s vehicle,
which brings a certain voyeuristic complicity into play as the viewer is manipulated
to identify with the protagonists. When it later becomes apparent the crimes of
Bart and Laurie will not go unpunished, that camera placement is traded for
more traditional objectivity. In perhaps the best realized vehicular sequence,
Bart finds himself unable to shoot at the cops in hot pursuit of his getaway
car. The motif of water is significant to a great many film noirs, as it definitely is in this case. The opening credits
are accompanied by heavy rainfall, and the accumulated storm water contributes
to a would-be gun thief's capture by a local flatfoot. The story concludes in
murky swamp water, where the conclusion takes place as prior events dictate.
Beyond the many serious themes to be found in GUN CRAZY is an occasional dose of humor, as when an employee in a
diner acknowledges his establishment's coffee tastes awful. One particularly
dark moment of humor occurs when an impatient driver behind Bart and Laurie
inadvertently helps propel the robbers across the California state line. The
implication is that the fugitives from justice are relatively minor
inconveniences to the average person, who cares only about himself. Cinematographer Russell Harlan's other noir
efforts were limited, i.e. SOUTHSIDE
1-1000 (1950), THE MAN WHO CHEATED
HIMSELF (1950) and RIOT IN CELL
BLOCK 11 (1954), but he captured the visuals for some of the most famous
films in other genres, including RED
RIVER (1948), RIO BRAVO (1959), THE THING FROM ANOTHER WORLD (1951), BLACKBOARD JUNGLE (1955), WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION (1957) and TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (1962). The iconic screen captures below are representative of his high quality work.
I
think it is fair to conclude GUN CRAZY
would not have been quite the same movie without the presence of Peggy Cummins.
She was just a little gal (listed as 5' 1" atIMDb), but she carries herself much taller in
the role of Annie Laurie Starr, easily among the most physically striking of film noir's many bad blonde babes. Her
character looks simultaneously sexy and scary when she brandishes a gun at her
workplace, and ultimately cuts down the battle-ax boss who objected to female
employees who show up for work in slacks. Justifiable murder? Absolutely not,
but it is undeniably satisfying to watch Cummins dominate the scene in her
unforgettable role.
Ready
for 2018, GUN CRAZY arrives on Blu-ray
from Warner Archive with what seems like a long overdue 1080p HD Master
transfer, handsomely framed at the aspect ratio of 1.345:1. This dual-layered
disc looks tremendous in motion. Close-ups boast a particular wow factor. This
is one of the year's obvious must-haves for film
noir followers. The improvement in resolution versus the old Warner DVD is
easy to see—just flip back and forth between the following screen captures.
Warner Blu-ray
Warner DVD
The
audio commentary track was ported from the DVD released in 2006 as part of
Warner's first FILM NOIR CLASSIC COLLECTION box set. On the mic is noted film
reviewer Glenn Erickson, whose review page and columns can be found at
cinesavant.com. Erickson describes the detours the film took from its source
material, and offers a well-prepared script that highlights the accomplishments
of all the major contributors. Beyond the usual historical analysis, his close
study of the piece of art at hand is admirable. He draws our attention to the clever
camerawork that covers the planned separation of Bart and Laurie after their
last big score. After the two lovers circle back to each other, the camera that
tracks them becomes an attachment to Bart's vehicle, which prompts the viewer
to join the couple. It is a great moment, and it parallels nicely with the
Hampton robbery, when the camera was positioned in the backseat for the entire
robbery sequence. Erickson believes the hotel sequence in Santa Monica bears
all the hallmarks of a reshoot, given the noticeable downgrade in writing
quality and the exaggerated emphasis on the couple's guilt. He notes this scene
consistently prompts laughter during screenings. Erickson may be correct that
the scene was an add-on, but I've always liked the childlike questions Bart
asks Laurie:"Why do you have to
murder people? Why can't you let them live?" It is the dialog of a man who
never properly developed into adulthood. Another good observation from Erickson
involves the fugitive couple's return to a carnival environment, which
emphasizes the realistic notion that small-time hoodlums, despite all of their
big plans, are likely to remain small-time.
A
welcome supplement to this Blu-ray edition is the documentary "Film-Noir:Bringing Darkness to Light" (2006, 67m
37s), produced and directed by Gary Leva. Originally released on a supplemental
disc included with Warner's FILM NOIR CLASSIC COLLECTION:VOL. 3 DVD set, the clips are limited to
Warner releases, though the noir
discussion touches all bases and the large assembly of contributors is
outstanding. Among the dozens of people interviewed are some of the most
important voices in the study of noir,
including Drew Casper, Glenn Erickson, Eddie Muller, Paul Schrader, Alain
Silver and James Ursini. Crucial noir
catalysts are given their due, including key literary influences such as
Cornell Woolrich and Raymond Chandler, the imported visual approach of German
Expressionism and the many lessons learned from World War II. Muller notes the noir examples of the 1940s often
encouraged viewers to identify with those on the wrong side of the law, unlike
the gangster films of the 1930s that maintained some distance from their arch
criminals. A strong sense of moral ambiguity envelops a highly fatalistic
atmosphere as the noir story explores
the aftermath of crime more than crime itself. Plenty of time is afforded to
the interesting nuances of noir, such
as the use of narration, efficient camera setups, stylized light patterns that
compliment dark moods, appropriately nocturnal settings (often in urban
locales, thought not always), wonderfully subversive innuendo, wild femme
fatales and the frustrated feeling of entrapment experienced by the characters.
Famously foul-mouthed author James Ellroy probably makes the most dead-on
observation when he mentions the "psychological frailty" of noir characters.
Bart
Tare and Annie Laurie Starr each fall into Ellroy's category of the
psychologically frail. Laurie doubtless is the more unbalanced of the two, but
ultimately each is done in by an inability to think like logical people. GUN CRAZY marked the beginning of the
1950s, the second decade of film noir.
Future characters of the genre would seem even less capable of making sound
decisions than those who came before them. The neurotics of the new decade
would give way to the most famous psycho of all in 1960:Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) in Alfred Hitchcock's
noir-stained PSYCHO, which marked the end of the classic film noir era and the birth of a new era of horror, when monsters
were replaced by monstrous personalities.
