I start viewing each Humphrey Bogart picture with a heightened anticipation, so strong is the Bogart persona in any movie.  Alas, Dark Passage is one of the few  Bogart pictures that disappoints.  Bogart goes through the motions of an escaped con on the run trying to clear himself of a murder charge, and Lauren Bacall look great, but for a thriller the whole affair is flat.

Based on a story by David Goodis, the screenplay relies on too many implausible coincidences.  The pedestrian direction of Delmer Daves (The Red House) constrains the  camera of cinematographer Sid Hickox (To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, Possessed, White Heat), and the Franz Waxman score is sadly undistinguished.  You don’t see Bogart’s face  for the first half of the movie, with the camera taking a point of view angle – it didn’t work in Lady in The Lake (1947) and it doesn’t work here.  The ending is lame, and the climax is ho-hum even though a dame falls out of the window of an apartment building!

Deep focus outdoor scenes on the streets of San Francisco sustain visual interest, and the hilly topography results in some great angled shots.  Snappy lines of dialog enliven some static scenes, and there are interesting bit-roles that to a limited extent mitigate the film’s overarching weaknesses.  Agnes Moorehead is entertaining as a closet psychopath, but her camp characterisation is out-of-place in an otherwise earnest scenario.   A veteran bit-player with an  expressively craggy visage, Houseley Stevenson, is great as an eccentric  bootleg plastic surgeon.  Tom D’Andrea as a helpful cab driver,  Clifton Young as a small-time hood turned blackmailer, and  Tory Mallison as Bogart’s only friend, contribute immensely in roles that are pivotal to the story.

As for Dark Passage being a film noir, I suppose at a stretch you could say that there is an underlying theme of entrapment, but there are no noir atmospherics or motifs.

This is an elegant homage by Rob in L.A. to some of the iconic femmes-noir. Make sure your speakers are on as the haunting rendition by Bruce Springsteen of Angel Eyes is integral to the experience.

Credits

Song: “Angel Eyes,” music by Matt Dennis, lyrics by Earl Brent. Performed by Bruce Springsteen.

Film clips:

Marie Windsor in THE NARROW MARGIN (1952)
Cleo Moore in ON DANGEROUS GROUND (1951)
Claire Trevor in BORN TO KILL (1947)
Veronica Lake in THIS GUN FOR HIRE (1942)
Ella Raines in PHANTOM LADY (1944)
Louise Brooks in PANDORA’S BOX (1928)
Jean Gillie in DECOY (1946)
Jane Russell in HIS KIND OF WOMAN (1952)
Anne Baxter in THE BLUE GARDENIA (1953)
Lauren Bacall in THE BIG SLEEP (1946)
Jane Greer in OUT OF THE PAST (1947)
Rita Hayworth in THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI (1948)
Bibi Andersson and Liv Ullmann in PERSONA (1966)
Lana Turner in THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE (1946)
Simone Simon in CAT PEOPLE (1942)
Clara Bow in MY LADY OF WHIMS (1925)
Ingrid Bergman in ARCH OF TRIUMPH (1948)
Monica Vitti in L’ECLISSE (1962)
Marie Windsor in THE NARROW MARGIN (1952)
Anna May Wong in PICCADILLY (1929)
Ella Raines in PHANTOM LADY (1944)
Gloria Grahame in THE BIG HEAT (1953)
Ava Gardner in THE KILLERS (1946)
Lizabeth Scott in DEAD RECKONING (1947)
Hedy Lamarr in ALGIERS (1938)
Ella Raines in PHANTOM LADY (1944)
Gene Tierney in LAURA (1944)
Joan Crawford in MILDRED PIERCE (1945)
Dorothy Dandridge in ISLAND IN THE SUN (1957)
Constance Dowling in BLACK ANGEL (1946)
Mary Meade in T-MEN (1947)
Rita Hayworth in GILDA (1946)
Peggy Cummins in GUN CRAZY (1950)
Lizabeth Scott in DEAD RECKONING (1947)
Fay Helm in PHANTOM LADY (1944)
Louise Brooks in PANDORA’S BOX (1928)
Marlene Dietrich in SHANGHAI EXPRESS (1932)

Shock is a perverse b-thriller noir from 20th Century Fox. So traumatised is a young married woman after surreptitiously witnessing a murder that she lapses into catatonia. The shrink charged with her care in the sanatorium is the killer. An enticingly preposterous story with a super-suave performance by a clean-shaven Vincent Price as the shrink, and a smouldering turn by a 30-something Lynn Bari as his girl-friend and erstwhile femme-fatale.  Atmospherically shot by Joseph MacDonald (The Dark Corner, Call Northside 777, Panic in the Streets, Niagara) with fluid direction by Alfred L. Werker (He Walked by Night).

The highlight is when a psychotic patient escapes from his room in the sanatorium on a stormy night and causes havoc. It is a brilliantly executed sequence with a bravado performance by a veteran uncredited bit-player from the silent era, John Davidson.

A camp delight.

Jules Dassin’s third major feature, The Naked City, is legendary for its cine-verite portrayal of the city of New York: on the streets and in deep focus, with a stunning climax on the Williamsburg bridge.  Deservedly, in 1949 William H. Daniels received an Academy Award for Best Black-and-White Cinematography and Paul Weatherwax  an Oscar for Best Film Editing.  Miklós Rózsa and Frank Skinner contribute a solid musical score.   A voice-over narration by producer, Mark Hellinger, who died before the movie’s release, follows the story of a murder investigation by NY homicide cops.

The story is well-paced with the who-dun-it and why tension elegantly elaborated. While the cast is solid and the dialog has a sardonic edge, the picture is essentially a police procedural of little irony or depth, and with a ‘magazine expose’ feel . Once we are into the story, Hellinger’s voice-over becomes tedious, and by the climax downright annoying, as he starts addressing a hood on the run. Thematically, there is little to distinguish The Naked City as a film noir. We have to wait for Thieves Highway the following year to begin to appreciate Dassin’s greatness as a noir director.

It is the city of New York and its people that hold our attention, and the several bit-portrayals of people going about their lives are truly engaging. The final scene where a street-sweeper in profile scoops up yesterday’s papers from the gutter and moves on into the New York night gives an arresting hard-bitten closure to the story behind the murder and to the film itself.

In a book I am currently reading, The Early Film Criticism of François Truffaut by Wheeler Dixon (Indiana University 1993), there is an interesting section that deals with the obvious influence on Truffaut of Hollywood b-movies, particularly film noir.

According to Dixon, Truffaut and even his mentor, Jean Renoir, preferred b-features over a-productions. In a 1954 interview, Renoir was quite emphatic:

“I’ll say a few words about Val Lewton, because he was an extremely interesting person; unfortunately he died, it’s already been a few years. He was one of the first, maybe the first, who had the idea to make films that weren’t expensive, with ‘B’ picture budgets, but with certain ambitions, with quality screenplays, telling more refined stories than usual. Don’t go thinking that I despise “B” pictures; in general I like them better than big, pretentious psychological films they’re much more fun. When I happen to go to the movies in America, I go see “B” pictures. First of all, they are an expression of the great technical quality of Hollywood. Because, to make a good western in a week, the way they do at Monogram, starting Monday and finishing Saturday, believe me, that requires extraordinary technical ability; and detective stories are done with the same speed. I also think that “B” pictures are often better than important films because they are made so fast that the filmmaker obviously has total freedom; they don’t have time to watch over him.”

So all you b-movie fans you are in hallowed company!

[Cross-posted at Another Cinema Blog]

“You had something on him
What was it?
…
Doctor Talbot was a respected member of the community
He lived in the same house on the same street
Year after year
Every one admired him, looked up to him
But then something happened, he did something
Something that gave you a hold over him
What was it? What was he hiding? What did he do?”

According to the Motion Picture Herald, of the 298 top-grossing films for 1945-56, only nine were noirs (Spicer, Film Noir, 2002 ,p41). One of those movies was Nora Prentiss.  As a Warner Bros a-feature it ran for 111 minutes and though largely studio-bound, featured top-draw production values.

Though slow in the beginning, Nora Prentiss, once the noir scenario is established, develops into a dark melodrama of tortured loyalties and thwarted passions.  Steady direction from Vincent Sherman (The Damned Don’t Cry, The Unfaithful, The Garment Jungle) with the fluid camera of James Wong Howe,  and a brilliant pulsating score from Franz Waxman, deliver classy Hollywood melodrama.  The lovely Ann Sheridan as always is truly engaging as Nora, and the rather stolid Kent Smith despite his limitations delivers a solid performance as the noir protagonist.

A doctor, Richard Talbot,  living the “father-knows-best” dream in a San Francisco suburb is catapulted into the dark chasm of noir angst, when he falls for cabaret singer Nora.  The film opens with a twist on the classic noir flashback narrative.  A guy who we only see in profile has been arrested for the murder of  the doctor and refuses to talk even to his lawyer. We move from the suspect in his holding cell to a delightful Spring morning in a Frisco bungalow  where a comfortable upper middle-class family sits down to breakfast.

Dr Talbot is settled in a successful career and lives a scheduled orderly passionless existence.  One evening a young woman is knocked over by a car as the doctor is leaving his surgery for the evening – he goes to her aid – enter a sassy uninhibited Nora.  Richard is free the for weekend, with his wife and kids away – you get the picture.  The affair blossoms into love, but Richard hasn’t the resolve to leave his wife. One evening a very ill patient arrives at the surgery after-hours. The camera and lighting have gone to noir: an irrevocable decision born of desperation unleashes a maelstrom of dark deeds, deceit, and tragedy. Fate is truly majestic in retribution with a twist that seals the good doctor’s doom.  As bleak an ending as any noir before or since.

It was not for want of viewing, that I have  not reviewed a movie here for 10 days.  At least two movies which while not recognised as noirs, promised significant noir elements, but in the watching were both problematic and revealing.

I am always a sucker for John Garfield.  One of his early features from 1939 was a boxing melodrama for Warner Bros, They Made Me a Criminal, directed by, yes, Busby Berkeley.  A young boxing champ played by Garfield who likes booze and broads, is framed by his manager for the death of a reporter.

The first 20 minutes are deliciously taut and noirish. The movie opens with the last rounds of a fight in front of a wild crowd. The action shifts to the dressing room after Garfield’s knockout win, where his volatile character is revealed. Cut to his apartment where he is boozing and cavorting with a young and very nubile Ann Sheridan. One thing leads to another, a man is dead, and Garfield is on the run from a murder rap. His manager has beat it in Garfield’s car with Sheridan, and the boxer’s wallet and watch. But they don’t get far – after being chased by the cops they crash into a tree with the girl’s screams extinguished by a fireball as the car explodes. Then Garfield, after being gypped by his shyster lawyer, is on the skids and riding freight trains. We are now in hokum territory with Garfield ultimately redeeming himself and home free.

Next up, an aging George Raft and a sexy Colleen Gray in a 1950 British Romulus production, Lucky Nick Cain (aka I’ll Get You for This), a boys-own thriller shot on location in Southern Italy, co-starring Enzo Staiola  (who played the young son in Bicycle Thieves) as a street-kid.  Raft plays an American gambler who is framed for the murder of a T-Man by hoods running a counterfeiting operation using a hotel-casino as a front. Gray looks great but isn’t asked to do much.  Stock-stuff you might say, and you would be right. But this movie has some distinguished noir elements.

The director Joseph M. Newman (711 Ocean Drive and Dangerous Crossing) and expatriate Czech cinematographer Otto Heller (They Made Me a Fugitive) turn a small Italian town into a noir locale of exquisite mystery, peril, and sinister shadows.

As if this was not enough, there are two out-of-left field scenes that are richly erotic and camp.  In the first scene, Raft confronts a sultry blonde femme-fatale boisterously over-played by bit-player Greta Gynt, and engages in some lurid gun-play.  Later in the picture, Colleen Gray has been arrested and is interrogated by a towering blonde female butch prison guard in a gothic women’s prison, while the guard is ragged by some b-girls in another cell. When Raft rescues the girl, the guard is placed in the same cell as the b-girls…

All-in-all, not quite the stuff of noir dreams, but not a bad double-feature.

The British Film Institute will screen 19 classic noirs and neo-noirs from February 27 to March 25 at its Southbank London cinema during its The Femme Fatale series.  The 1950 cult pulp noir from Joseph H. Lewis, Gun Crazy, will headline the series, screening daily, and will also also receive a limited national release.

Movies to be screened are:

Body Heat
Chinatown
Criss Cross
Detour
Devil in a Blue Dress
Double Indemnity
The File on Thelma Jordon
Gilda
Gun Crazy
The Killers
The Lady From Shanghai
The Last Seduction
The Long Goodbye
The Maltese Falcon
Niagara
Out of the Past
Scarlet Street
Vertigo
Where Danger Lives