A Month of Noir Day 21 - The Set-Up

Boxing is all about the money.  Sure, the lightning quick fellows dancing and punching each other into early brain damage might feel otherwise, but for those in the stands, particularly those with sweat soaked betting slips, it's all about the mighty greenback.  Who wins is just as important as how and when they win.  A knockout in the fourth might not pay out as handsomely as a fight that's gone the distance.

And when money is involved, you can place another bet that corruption isn't far behind.

In the ring is a familiar face I've seen a few times this month.  Robert Ryan, quality actor, magnetic, and currently getting beat to a pulp.  He's a mid-thirties palooka (yes!  I get to use that term) named Stoker who might just be washed up.  Very few people believe in him anymore, and his wife begs him to retire.  She's afraid one of these nights he'll come home and not remember who she is anymore.  But she's not the worst.  His own corner men, Tiny and Red, have bet against him.  They tell local tough Little Boy that he'll take a dive towards the end of the fight, a payout that would get Stoker and extra $10.  Or it would if they bothered to tell him about it.

Maybe they should have.  Despite being older and slower than his opponent Tiger Nelson, Stoker believes he can win.  After all, it only takes one well placed punch to end the fight and send him to the top spot, a title shot.  Only problem is he's been that one punch away for most of his career.

Most of the films credit should go to director Robert Wise.  Filmed in real time, Wise stages boxing that I would actually pay to go and watch.  Today, boxing is a nearly forgotten sport (go ahead, name the heavyweight champ) on it's last wobbly legs since the self-destruction of Mike Tyson.  Today it's an over-bloated, glitzy, multi-million dollar hype machine for fights few care about except those parked next to celebrities in the pomp and circumstance casinos.

But in The Set-Up, boxing is a down and dirty affair, for men with lofty dreams and heavy fists.  They'll punch each other for pride, glory, women and money.  The smoke filled venues are sardine packed with men and women smoking and screaming for blood; an early 20th century gladiator arena.  The fight is what matters, not the celebrity seating chart.

Robert Wise was smart to focus this film on the fight itself, plus the culture of boxing.  We don't see training montages set to "Eye of the Tiger" or lofty plans to end the cold war with a knockout.  Stoker's fight is the last on the docket, the fight after the main event.  So we wait with him as he sits in the dingy, crowded locker room, conversing with the other fighters as they wait for their turn.  They are all optimistic or nervous, some return victorious, some without control of their mental facilities, but each makes an impact in their short screen time.  Meanwhile Stokers wife walks the streets nearby, not wanting to attend the fight, and definitely not wanting to think about it.  Will she attend or won't she?  It doesn't matter as much as her anguish, knowing her man is going to take a beating.

When the fight finally arrives, it's well worth it.  The entire four rounds are filmed; no middle round highlight reel with title cards here.  We get every second, every painful punch.  Blood and sweat flow with each punch, and I've got to hand it to Ryan and the guy playing Tiger (Hal Baylor), it looks real.  They are beaten and exhausted, and it's as realistic as most of the fights from Raging Bull.  

Will Stoker make it to the end of the fight?  Will he win?  What will happen if he does pull it off?  I'm not going to spoil it for you, but I am willing to place a wager.

And now that I've finished the film, I'm going to start it up again, only this time I'm going to listen to the commentary with Robert Wise and Martin Scorsese.  What are the chances he mentions Raging Bull?

In the meantime, enjoy the montage of pugilistic pummeling.

Rating: 4 and a half out of 5 Stars

A Month of Noir Day 20 - Pushover

You have to love any film that starts fast out of the gate with an early morning bank robbery.  It's executed well, and in a nice change of pace from the modern day yelling and screaming, it's quiet.  No threats, no pleading, no playing dumb.  Just a show of a gun.  And when it looks like it's going to go over perfectly, a guard makes the mistake of trying to play hero and earns himself a bullet.

This will be a repeating motif.

From the blood to the beauty, we next meet Lona McLean, played by the lovely Kim Novak in her first film performance.  She's come out of a movie theater and attempts to go home, only her car won't start, the damsel in vehicular distress.  Enter the White Knight, Detective Paul Sheridan.  Played by lanterned jawed Fred MacMurray, he offers to help her with her vehicle.  When his efforts to start the car fail, he takes it upon himself to get the car to a mechanic, and Lona to his place.  He's a helpful man, only he's not to keen on sharing one important detail with her, that he is a cop, and that he's going to bring her boyfriend Wheeler in for the bank robbery.  If he manages to seduce her in the meantime, so be it.

But Lona's not so dumb.  She's onto his game, and has a few moves to play on  her own.  She doesn't love Wheeler, and she'd be more than happy to see him take a dirt nap, as long as they take the money.  It's Paul she wants to be with, and why shouldn't they have the money?  Paul's not so sure.

As the film progresses, the wheels in Paul's brain keep turning round and round, working out a plan, seeing all the options and angles, and before he's got a chance to reconsider, he declares he's in.  But there is one problem.  Paul and his boys are staking out Lona around the clock.  One in the window watching through binoculars, one on the phone in case it rings, and another on the streets.  Whatever she does, she'll be tailed.  And it certainly doesn't help that Paul's partner Rick McAllister (Phil Carey) has his eye on a sweet little nurse who lives next door to our blond haired bombshell.

So Paul and Lona work out a plan.  Through some deft maneuvering, Lona will get out of the apartment, Rick will follow her, and when Wheeler shows up, Paul will take care of him.

But with any good noir, problems arise, and arise often.  Suffice it to say, things go bad, and soon Paul is left feeling unsure of which side of the law he's going to fall on.  Some choices are made, and they are not always good.

Pushover is a excellent example of what a noir film is; dark, seductive, and morally ambiguous with a not so happy ending.  While it's not going to go on any top ten lists, it's an fine entry level film into the genre.  Highly enjoyable.

Rating: 4 stars out of 5

A Month of Noir Day 19 - Richard Widmark...

...or, look how many awesome movies a guy can make in a four year span.

Kiss of Death



Street With No Name



Road House



Night and the City



Panic In the Streets



No Way Out

A Month of Noir Day 18 - The Postman Always Rings Twice

I'm okay with bad choices.  It's understandable that people are often weak, stupid animals, and despite how evolved we are, sometimes primitive urges get the best of us.  I consider myself a rational person, and would be lying if I said I never made a bad choice based on instinct.

With film noir in particular, bad choices are important.  It's not unusual for a misfiring synapse to start an entire plot in motion, or a momentary lapse of reason to lead to an unfortunate demise.  Hell, sometimes even a bad option is the lesser of two evils.  One of the reasons I enjoy this particular genre is to watch people try to wrestle those demons into submission, and most of the time find out that they are the ones pinned to the mat.

So I can forgive a bad choice, maybe even two.

But a film where almost every choice is the bad choice?  It better be damn good.

A wayward drifter, Frank Chambers (John Garfield) finds himself in a new town, with a new job opportunity, working at a diner for Nick Smith (Cecil Kellaway).  Within moments he is smitten with Nick's beautiful wife Cora (Lana Turner) and trouble soon follows.  They fight their desires for as long as possible, but instead of losing each other, they decide to murder Nick instead.

Unfortunately, The Postman Always Rings Twice is not damn good.  The premise is solid, but not believable in execution.  And I had high hopes.  When I was twelve I saw the remake with Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange, and perhaps it was just my pent up teenage hormones, but I thought it was quite good.  At the time I didn't realize it was from a David Mamet script, but now I can see why it worked.  Mamet's a smart man, and he realized that the movie needed to be really sexed up to work.  Add more sex, and the brain stops working.

This version didn't have the sex, so my brain worked overtime and came up with the following problems.

Why would a woman who looks like Lana Turner marry a guy who looks like Cecil Kellaway?  Oh yeah, because too many handsome men hit on her.

I can understand hiring the handsome drifter to work for you, but do you really want him that close to your way more attractive wife?  Sure.  And while you are at it, how about having them dance and go off for a late night swim with your permission?

So they decide to run away together.  At least they take the car and some money from the cash register.  Nope.  They just pack some suitcases and start walking. But at least they left him a note.  A note they need to retrieve once they change their mind some miles down the road.

Okay, so leaving is out of the question, at least without money.  I got it!  Kill him.  She did just read an article in a women's magazine that states all kinds of accidents happen around the house.  So just design an elaborate plan involving an electrical wire, a ladder, and a bathtub.  Just make sure a cat doesn't climb up the ladder and ruin the whole thing.

Fuck.  A cat climbed the ladder.

Got an idea.  Next time you want to kill a man, don't design some elaborate Rube Goldberg device that is more complicated than the game of Mousetrap and that setup that served Pee Wee Herman his breakfast.

But he lives, and this is a second chance to forget the whole thing.  So Frank  leaves for Los Angeles.  The miles in between you should cool things down.  Whats that?  You got a job at a place Nick frequents.  Way to separate dude.

And just when you feel Nick hasn't made a bad decision in a while, he thinks it's a great idea to sell the place and move to NORTHERN CANADA so your wife can take care of your paralyzed sister.  Now I get why she wants you dead.

Who could possibly save this film?  How about an oily Hume Cronyn. 

At last, a choice that makes sense.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars



And just because.

A Month of Noir Day 17 - Pickup On South Street

On a crowded New York City subway, two non-descript men are keeping an eye on a lovely young woman.  While under their watch, an unsuspecting pickpocket, Skip McCoy (Richard Widmark), does what he does best.  Little does he know, Candy (Jean Peters), the woman whose purse he just emptied, happened to be couriering a very important piece of microfilm.  This sensitive information was to be delivered to a Soviet Agent, and now both her ex-boyfriend Joey and the cops are after her to retrieve it.  Only problem, Skip isn't going to be that easy to con.  With the help of  neighborhood informer Moe (Thelma Ritter), everyone is after skip.  But when Joey crosses the line, Skip is finally forced to look after someone besides himself for once.

For me, Pickup on South Street is the tale of two characters, Thelma Ritter's Moe and director Samuel Fuller.  This film is excellent, and every character is fully formed and interesting.  Jean Peters's Candy is a wonderful example of a woman caught in a situation that is far above her head.  She constantly struggles, and it's easy to see why she latches onto Widmark's McCoy.  He might be a small potatoes three time loser, but the guy always seems to have a plan.  Widmark carries McCoy as self-confident, despite his many shortcomings.  When he finally takes action at the films end, it is seen as a long time coming.

But the film belongs to Thelma Ritter.  Moe, a whirling dervish of a woman who just happens to be dressed like a young Grannie from the Beverly Hillbillies, is a woman just doing what she can to get by.  She sees herself as an honest citizen, who for the right price will point the cops in directions they can't find themselves.  Despite what others call her, she is not a "stool pigeon" and only takes money because the cost of living keeps going up.  Don't believe her, check the notebook she carries at all times that contains the most up to date cost of food.  It's not her way to ask too much, just what is needed. 

Her portrayal, while certainly comical (she sells designer ties for $1), is the most tragic of the film.  From the very beginning we learn she performs her services only so she can afford a decent plot and burial at a cemetery out on Long Island.  Every dollar earned goes towards a fancy gravestone, as her worst fear is being buried unmarked and unmourned at Potter's Field, which is odd because everyone seems to like her.  The police, while not always willing to part with their money, have not problem dealing with her.  Even Skip, whose location she sells out, harbors no ill will, realizing that she's just doing what she needs to get by.  Moe seems destined for tragedy, and her death was not easy to take.  She was strong right to the end though.

Secondly, this film is owned by Samuel Fuller.  He's a masterful director, and every frame of Pickup is wonderfully framed, lit, and shot.  A great deal of credit goes to cinematographer Joe MacDonald, but Fullers fingerprints are all over this film.  Anyone doubting he was the man in charge needs only to watch the special features on the Criterion release.

At nineteen minutes, the documentary/conversation with Fuller is far too brief.  Looking like a white suited Mark Twain from the dark side of town, with his wildman hair and cigar, Fuller talks about the movie business, famed producer Darryl F Zanuck, and what it takes to be a director. (Hint: rehearse, rehearse, shoot)  He is an amazingly entertaining man whose advice on shooting an action scene is priceless, and honestly, should be mandatory for most of today's directors.  They don't make them like him anymore.

Rating: 4 and a half stars out of 5.

A Month of Noir Day 16 - On Dangerous Ground

Nicholas Ray's On Dangerous Ground starts out like many of the noirs of its day.  Cops are getting ready for their day, getting dressed, saying goodbye to their wife and/or children, eating a meal, and holstering their weapon.  Soon they are at roll call, being called out.  A Sargent was murdered two weeks ago, and Captain Brawley (Ed Bageley) isn't too happy about it.  Those killers need to be found.

Detective Jim Wilson (Robert Ryan) has a few leads, and with his two partners he pays some visits to his stool pigeons.  From the start, we can see that Wilson isn't your typical cop.  He's sullen and withdrawn, only speaking when he has to quiet someone up.  But he's good at his job.  Soon he's got a location on one of the suspects and when he finds him, he nearly beats the hell out of him.

Despite his success, Brawley has a problem with Wilson's methods.  He's bringing heat down on the department with his constant brutality, and if he can't clean up his act, he's going to be out on his ass.  This isn't exactly a threat for Wilson.  He's fed up with the job, with the people, with the city.  He considers himself nothing more than a garbageman.

"Make your mind up to be a cop, not a gangster with a badge."

As punishment, Brawley sends Wilson up north to "Siberia" to cool off.  A young girl has been murdered, and the small town could use the help of a big city detective.

And this is where the film takes a turn towards uncharted territory.  Removed from the darkness and grime of the city, Wilson finds himself in the stark white and cleanliness of a winter wonderland.  Gone are the shadows, replaced with the brightness of snow. 

There is still a murder to solve.  The townsfolk, particularly the grieving father Walter (Ward Bond) want to catch the killer themselves and deliver some good old fashioned vigilante justice.  Wilson doesn't seem to bothered by this but still has a job to do.  Soon enough (perhaps a little too soon) they are onto the killer, and a foot chase/car chase ensues.  As someone from the snowy north can attest, a high speed chase on winter roads does not end well, and both cars crash into the woods, resulting in another chase.

The trail (thanks snow!) leads them to a remote house, where Mary Malden (Ida Lupino) a young blind woman lives with her conveniently out of town brother.  Walter knows she is hiding the killer, and checks out the house while Wilson talks to Mary and warms himself by the fire.  By this point the metaphor is becoming quite clear.

Mary tells Wilson of her brother, and hopes that he will be the one to bring him in alive.  He promises to do that, and after a night spent by the fire with Walter, they will begin looking again.  Of course they find him, resulting in a mountain-side chase and the accidental death of Danny, the guilty brother.  Walter becomes saddened to realize the murderer he's been so blood thirsty for is nothing more than a mentally challenged boy, and takes it upon himself to carry the dead boy back to the cabin.

Wilson, despite his strong feelings for Mary, heads back to the city, still haunted by her voice and words.


Had the film ended at this point, I would have given it a higher rating, as I'm a sucker for downer endings.  Unfortunately he goes back, and the film ends with them kissing.

"Sometimes the people who are never alone are the loneliest."

I guess I'm okay with that.  Robert Ryan does a tremendous job with his character, portraying his emotions with as little words as possible.  And Ida Lupino does a decent job as a blind, but independant woman.  She moves about her house with the use of strategically placed furniture, and her connection with Ryan's Wilson feels authentic, even though they just met.  Despite my cold cold heart, it was nice to see them end up together at the end.

A Month of Noir Day 15 - The Naked City

"Every murder turns on a bright hot light, and a lot of people, innocent or not, have to walk out of the shadow to stand investigation."

Late at night a cleaning lady mops the floor of a train station.  A local disc jockey wonders if anyone besides his wife is listening to him prattle over the airwaves at this hour.  A beautiful young woman is strangled by two men and dumped in the bathtub, left for dead.

The city wakes up.  Papers are delivered along with the morning milk.  Another murder is committed.  A drunk man is bludgeoned with a wooden board by a friend and pushed into the river.

More people wake up.  They take care of their children and get ready to go to work, both walking and taking the train.  The city roars to life. 

Those murders are discovered.

I shouldn't like The Naked City.  It might have been one of the first groundbreaking police procedural films, but it is still a genre that I quickly grow tired of thanks to endless television repeats of everything from CSI to NCIS.  The actors don't even do a particularly good job of holding my interest.  Everyone is so straight laced, with the exception of the few criminals we meet.  But even they are rather vanilla.

I watch film noir to see the darkest of the dark in a society gone wrong, and the most this film can muster is a few tame murders and some stolen jewels.  That sound is me yawning.

However, The Naked City was one of the first films shot on location in New York City, and for that, you must give it credit.  Director Jules Dassin and Oscar-winning Cinematographer William H. Daniels were smart to make both the city and it's inhabitants major characters in a rather ho-hum story.  I was fascinated by the long shots of sky scrapers and street level views of people just making their way about life.  Each shot is a time capsule of that decade, and honestly, I could hit pause and stare at the excellently framed images for minutes at a time.  Their beauty engaged me more than the plot.

At least until the final shootout.  Filmed on the Williamsburgh Bridge, it was an excellent conclusion to the film.

"There are 8 million stories in the naked city.  This had been one of them."

Rating: 3 and a half stars out of 5