Following my previous post on Jean Delannoy’s sexy and funny noir adventure-melodrama, Macao, L’enfer Du Jeu (aka Gambling Hell 1939), I want to share a delicious Ernst Lubitsch like scene from the movie featuring a mischievous Erich von Stroheim as the gun-runner Werner von Krall, and the utterly beguiling Mireille Balin as the cabaret dancer Mireille.

The background to the film is the 2nd Sino-Japanese war.  It is 1939 and in the battle-ravaged port of Canton,  Krall has rescued the lovely Mireille from internment by a local Chinese commander, with whom Krall has just struck a deal to deliver guns and ammo from Macao.  Krall offers to take Mireille with him to Macao on his yacht.  As Mireille has lost most of her luggage, Krall digs out an evening gown from his closet and offers  it to Mireille.  She wears the gown to dinner. The scene opens as Mireille returns to her cabin with Krall in tow.  Her cabin adjoins Krall’s and there is a connecting door. Enjoy!

In Jean Delannoy’s sexy, funny, and uber dark adventure-melodrama, Macao, L’enfer Du Jeu (aka Gambling Hell 1939), starring a charming Erich von Stroheim as an arms dealer, the luminous Mireille Balin as a cabaret dancer, and the suave but sinister Sessue Hayakawa as a racketeer, the spin of the roulette wheel offers no escape nor redemption.  Justice is swift and unromantic – only the innocent survive.

Don’t believe the dictates of  les enfants terribles of the French New Wave or the pompous snobbery of  contemporary ‘cineastes’,  mainstream movies do have craft, enduring meaning, and true value. Viva la difference!

The fantastic hellish climax which sees the anti-heroes destroyed is captured in the following clip.

Act of Violence (1948) Dir: Fred Zinnemann | DP: Robert Surtees | Locale: Los Angeles

Promises (1996)

Promises given
And promises broken
Words stain my lips
Just like blood on my hands

And words are like poison
That sinks down inside you
And some things you do
You just don’t understand

I offer no reason
I ask for no pity
I make no excuse
For the way that I am

And words are like poison
That sinks down inside you
And some things you do
You just don’t understand

If God is my witness
Then God is my savior
But if you are my judge
Then I’m already damned

And words are like poison
That sinks down inside you
And some things you do
You just don’t understand

And would if my fingers
To cut off and give you
Could gain my redemption
I’d cut off my hands

But words are like poison
That bends you and blinds you
And some things you do
You just don’t understand

So this is my story
And I hope that it finds you
For your sweet attention
I cannot demand

And words are like poison
That lives down inside you
And some things you do
You just don’t understand

In Your Mind

In your mind, in your mind
One foot on Jacob’s ladder
And one foot in the fire
And it all goes down in your mind

Living at the bottom of the stairs in your life
Never a smile knocking on your door
The air is blue and so are you
Prehistoric monsters on the floor

Last verse of your last song
And God don’t hear dead men
The end of the line is in your mind
And you’ll be staying in

In your mind, in your mind
Bone for bone and skin for skin
Eye for eye and tooth for tooth
Heart for heart and soul for soul
Somebody said what is true

Lock it up and close it down
The sound of morning like a dove
High beyond the rattle and roar
Look into the face of love

In your mind, in your mind
One foot on Jacob’s ladder
And one foot in the fire
And it all goes down in your mind

In your mind, in your mind
Sunday words are back again
And you’ll eat your fun of the middleman’s pie
But just a piece you understand
You’ll get the rest up in the sky

Praise and glory, wounded angel
Shuffling round the room
Eternity is down the hall
And you sit there bending spoons
In your mind, in your mind
Father, son and holy ghost
Sacrificial drops the pain
On a silver planet cross
Sanctification on a chain

They say redemption draws knives
Storms of silence from above
Stop your ears close your eyes
Try to find the face of love

In your mind, in your mind
One foot on Jacob’s ladder
And one foot in the fire
And it all goes down in your mind

________________________________________
Johnny Cash  (1995) Song of Cash, Inc (ASCAP)

Foggy night in New Bedford Massachusetts January 1941
Jack Delano – US Office of War Information

Part of the fun of having an interest in old movies is discovering an obscure title. Full Confession is so obscure that I could find only one frame and a lobby card on the Web, and no posters. It is not on DVD and while TCM has the movie in its catalog, it is not currently scheduled. I caught it on late night television over here.

While Full Confession is no lost gem, it deserves attention. Ostensibly a b-melodrama from the RKO factory, it is interesting for a number of reasons.

A compelling if contrived plot has a Catholic priest from an Irish parish connected in the fate of two men: a family man unjustly facing the chair for murder and the actual killer, who has been paroled from a stretch for robbery. The killer who had after a prison ‘accident’ confessed to the murder to the priest in a death-bed confession, survives after receiving a blood transfusion of the priest’s blood. The killer is not an evil man but tragically impulsive and this, together with his loving relationship with a modest and decent woman who is not aware of his guilt, evoke sympathy for his desire to ignore his conscience and make a new life. The dramatic tension of the priest being bound by the secrecy of the confessional and the imperative to save an innocent man drives the narrative once the killer is released.

A strong film crew and cast give the movie a certain patina. The director is John Farrow with cinematography by Roy Hunt, and original music by Roy Webb. An ensemble of veteran character actors complete the picture: Victor McLaglen plays the killer, Sally Eilers is the girl he loves, Joseph Calleia plays the priest, and Barry Fitzgerald the condemned man.

Farrow and Hunt while hobbled by some clunky expository sequences, which are largely the fault of the script, for the most part fashion impressive dramatically expressionistic scenes from, by necessity, darkly-lit studio sets, evoking the protagonist’s state of mind as he battles with his conscience and lashes out with desperate physical responses to his predicament. There are also well-constructed collages and voice-overs to portray his inner turmoil evocatively underscored by Roy Webb’s eerie orchestral accompaniment. Farrow uses the camera with panache and many scenes see the mise-en-scene explored with fluid elegant takes. Some scenes are overtly self-conscience, but are within the limitations imposed by the constraints of b film-making, and to be expected.

This expressionism and evident noir motifs I think fully qualify Full Confession as an early noir. We have the themes of fate dealing losing cards, physical entrapment and mental anguish, and redemption as a double-edged sword.

Essential if you are interested in the origins of the classic film noir cycle.