NOIR ARCHIVE: Vol 1 - Blu-ray (Columbia, 1944 - 54) Mill Creek Entertainment
Nine movies from
the Columbia catalog, most, likely foreign to all, except the die-hard noir connoisseur,
helmed by competent directors from Hollywood’s golden age, and imbued with a
formidable roster of mega-watt talent, have been brought together by Kit Parker
Films – a subsidiary of Mill Creek Entertainment – for Noir Archive Vol. 1. The gathering of this dark and sinister clan
is interesting; particularly, as at least three of the movies in this
glittering assemblage (1944’s Address
Unknown, 1949’s The Black Book –
a.k.a. Reign of Terror – and 1952’s Assignment: Paris) are actually stellar war-themed melodramas and
period costume pictures, utterly void of the conventional ‘noir’ fodder of
guns, girls and gangsters. No complaints, I suppose, as the aforementioned are
very compelling movies in their own right that ought to have been marketed
under another banner entirely. And the headliners in this modestly budgeted
compendium are some of the most-popular stars working in pictures then: Rosalind
Russell, Paul Lukas, Robert Cummings, George Sanders, Melvyn Douglas, and,
Richard Basehart among them. The movies
in this collection are sure to please, not the least, because they have
remained largely unseen for far too long and are, therefore, rife for
rediscovery by classic film buffs and the casual collector alike. None are
standouts. Some are downright antiquated. All are assembly-line studio product,
given competent care and, on occasion, remarkable production values. The
aforementioned ‘Black Book’, as
example, is a costume drama skating on the verge of becoming an bona fide epic.
There is a lot of great stuff here. So, without further ado, let us begin by
examining director, William Cameron Menzies’s haunting WWII-thriller, Address Unknown.
Based on
Kathrine Taylor's 1938 novel of the same name, Address Unknown tells the bittersweet story of two families,
intertwined in a prospect of marriage between their adult children, but whose
diametrically opposed views of Germany’s political upheaval during WWII sets
about a disastrous folly to engulf everyone in its hemisphere of flames. Cinematographer,
Rudolph Maté, achieves some startling ‘noir’ chiaroscuro effects, employing clever
mattes, deep focus and shadows to sustain the advancing and all-pervasive dread.
Our story begins with a journey, Martin Schulz (the usually Teutonic Paul
Lukas) preparing to move his family back to Germany. As Hitler’s influence is
not yet fully understood, either by Martin or his San Franciscan business
partner, Max Eisenstein (Morris Carnovsky), these life-long associates part
company as very good friends. Martin’s son, Heinrich (Peter van Eyck) is madly
in love with Max's daughter, Griselle (K.T. Stevens). Alas, she prefers a career as an actress to
wedding bells peeling madly. Exactly, why she should not aim for even greater
notoriety as a starlet in Hollywood, by comparison a veritable ‘hop, skip and jump’ from her present
location, is curious. Martin’s wife, Elsa (Mady Christians) is as eager to
return to Germany. So, the couple and their family, including Griselle, depart
for the Fatherland – soon, setting up in a pastoral Schloß on the Rhine. Almost
immediately, Griselle leaves for Berlin and establishes herself as a burgeoning
star on the stage. Previously, Griselle had promised to return to Heinrich after
achieving success. But this just seems like a polite ‘kiss off’ to let the boy
down gently.
Martin is
introduced to Baron von Friesche (Carl Esmond), who steadily worms his way into
their good graces. Under the Baron’s auspices, Martin joins the Nazi Party and
becomes an important government official. Along the way, Martin is ‘encouraged’
to distance himself from Max, with whom he has been corresponding regularly.
Meanwhile, the play in which Griselle is set to appear is under siege for its
religious overtones. The censor (Charles Halton) orders several key lines cut.
However, on opening night Griselle defies the censor and utters the lines
aloud, causing him to interrupt and denounce the performance. Accusing Griselle
of sedition, the censor exposes Griselle’s Jewish heritage to the audience.
Instantly transformed into an angry mob charging the proscenium, Griselle is
momentarily spared their wrath by the play’s director, who hurriedly ushers her
out of the theater. Frantically, Griselle makes the arduous journey on foot
across open plains, dogged by Hitler’s ‘brown shirts.’ Arriving at the Schulz’s villa, Griselle is
cruelly turned away by Martin, who fears his own incrimination by association.
As Elsa listens from behind the closed door, the brown shirts murder Griselle
in their courtyard. Shortly thereafter, a curt letter arrives in San Francisco,
informing Max and Heinrich that Griselle is dead.
Martin continues
to receive coded telegrams, presumably from Max. The Baron forewarns such coded
messages are forbidden. So, Martin writes back, demanding Max cease all contact.
Instead, the frequency of these telegrams escalates, raising suspicions with
the Baron. Disgusted by her husband’s betrayal of such an old family friend,
Elsa finally finds the courage to leave Martin, taking their children to
Switzerland. Before her departure, Martin implores his wife to mail a letter
for him to Max once they have crossed the border. However, at the border,
guards delay the family and Elsa hurriedly destroys the letter before anyone
can read it. In Berlin, Martin is ousted from his governmental position. Now,
isolated and alone in his villa, he fantasizes Hitler’s S.S. officers are
coming for him. He continues to receive coded telegrams from the United States.
The Baron resurfaces, demanding Martin identify his associates. But when Martin
persists in proclaiming his innocence, the Baron tells him it is only a matter
of time before the Gestapo come for his arrest. Terrified, Martin begins to
lose his grip on reality, even contemplating suicide. Back in San Francisco, a
letter addressed to Martin is returned to Max’s gallery, stamped with ‘Address
Unknown’. As Max stopped writing Martin some time ago, he is puzzled. However,
Heinrich’s reaction indicates it was he who kept sending his father the coded
messages, precisely to ruin him. Address Unknown is a solidly crafted
WWII-themed mystery/drama with plenty to recommend it. Paul Lukas gives a
superb performance as the cruelly conflicted man whose personal integrity is
stripped bare by the Nazi Party, and all but dismantled by his only son.
Next up, is Budd
Boetticher’s Escape in the Fog
(1945), an awkwardly conceived and implausibly scripted potboiler, whose one
ray of sunshine is the luminous Nina Foch as Eilene Carr, a woman possessing
remarkable clairvoyance in her dreams. Aubrey Wisberg’s screenplay is a genuine
snore, making the very least of these studio-bound San Franciscan locales.
There is more fog than fantasy here; all of it, frightfully unprepossessing. We
begin with Eilene’s nightmare – strolling along a fog-laden expanse of the
Golden Gate Bridge when a taxi pulls up and three men jump out, two attacking
the other at knife point. Eilene’s shrieks at the Rustic Dell Inn bring the
innkeeper and another guest, Barry Malcolm (William Wright) rushing into her
room. Once she is alert, Eilene recognizes Barry as the intended murder victim
in her dream. At breakfast, she confides as much to Barry who is mildly amused.
Eilene also informs Barry that she is recuperating from shock and not entirely
well just yet. To ease her mind, Barry offers to show Eilene the town. But
their respite is delayed by a mysterious phone call directing Barry to a clandestine
rendezvous in Frisco. George Smith (Ernie Adams), one of the men from Eilene’s
dream, overhears Barry's conversation and notifies Schiller (Konstantin Shayne),
the owner of a watch repair shop.
Upon reaching
the city, Barry visits the home of his handler, Paul Devon (Otto Kruger). Seems Barry is an undercover agent about to be
sent on a ‘top secret’ mission to Hong Kong. Devon tells Barry to be ready to
leave at 10:30 pm, handing him a pouch containing the names of double agents in
Japan. After Barry leaves, Schiller arrives and gains admittance by claiming he
has come to adjust Devon's grandfather clock. Left alone, Schiller instead
opens the back of the clock and removes a small recording cylinder. Smith
listen to Barry's recorded conversation and learns of his mission. Resolving to
gain possession of the list, Schiller has his spies trace Barry to the
Cumberland Hotel. After dining at the Caravan Club, Barry goes up to his room
to retrieve his suitcase. Smith, feigning to be Barry, has the hotel doorman
dismiss his cab. Instead, a fake taxi with the spies pulls up and collects
Barry. Overwrought, presumably with another premonition something is terribly
wrong, Eilene steps into oncoming traffic and is knocked unconscious. Reliving
her nightmare, Eilene hurries to inform Devon that Barry is in grave danger. Devon
denies knowing anything. With no other recourse, Eilene reasons her nightmare
is about to come true. She hurries to the Golden Gate Bridge and waits for the
events in her nightmare to materialize. They do, but Eilene is able to find a
nearby guard who helps thwart Barry’s murder.
In the ensuing
chaos, Barry tosses the pouch containing the names over the side of the bridge.
The harbor patrol is unable to locate it, leaving Eilene to deduce that perhaps
it landed on the deck of a boat she heard passing underneath the bridge at precisely
that moment. Barry consults the Port Authority.
However, its director (Frank O'Connor) denies any ship was in the vicinity. In
reality, an experimental Navy ship passed under the bridge. Knowing a ship was
spotted, the ever-efficient Smith, who has overheard everything, now notifies
Schiller. To ensure the return of the pouch, Schiller places an advertisement
in the classifieds, offering a reward. Meanwhile, Barry receives a message,
directing him to Half Moon Bay harbor. Eileen reads the paper and, believing Schiller’s
ad to be legit, ventures to his shop to collect the merchandise. Instead, she
is taken captive. Now, Barry receives a message informing him that unless he
trades up his intel, Eilene will die. In a bit of conveniently contrived
kismet, Devon’s grandfather clock stops working and Devon finds the recording
device concealed within. This leads him and the police to Schiller’s shop where
both Barry and Eilene have been taken hostage. To avoid the dragnet, Smith and
Schiller separate, but accidentally shoot one another in the thick fog. Sometime
later, Barry and Eilene return to the bridge for a passionate embrace. Escape in the Fog is a real hodge-podge
of narrative threads; some, leading absolutely nowhere, while others are far
too conveniently resolved.
In director,
Henry Levine’s The Guilt of Janet Ames
(1947) we are introduced to a disillusioned war widow, (Rosalind Russell) seeks
out five soldiers for whom her husband gave his life by falling on a grenade
during the Battle of the Bulge. While crossing a city street, Janet is struck
and knocked unconscious by an automobile. The police find no identification,
only a list of names, including Smithfield ‘Smitty’ Cobb (Melvyn Douglas), an
alcoholic reporter recently let from his employment. When Smitty sees the list,
he realizes who the woman must be. Visiting Janet in hospital, Smitty is
informed of her paralysis by a doctor who believes it to be purely psychosomatic.
Determined to see Janet walk again, Smitty introduces himself as a friend of
her late husband, David. Janet confides she is on a mission to see if any of
the men David saved were, in fact, worth his sacrifice. After being given a sedative, Smitty begins to
describe each of the men to Janet. In her drug-induced state, she proceeds to ‘meet’
each man in a hallucination - the first, a nightclub bouncer, Joe Burton
(Richard Benedict) who aspires to build a dream house for his singer/gal pal,
Katie (Betsy Blair). Next, Smitty shows Janet, Ed Pearson, a scientist doing important
research with his wife, Susie (Nina Foch). While Janet never meets Ed, she does
engage Suzie in a conversation about her husband’s work. The third man is Frank Merino (Hugh Beaumont).
As with the previous fantasy, Janet talks to ‘the woman’ in Frank’s life – in this
case, his young daughter, Emmy (Doreen McCann). Rather cruelly, Janet reasons
that children are a burden - Emmy included - leaving the bewildered girl to be
comforted by her father. The fourth man is Sammy Weaver (played with inimitable
aplomb by Sid Caesar). Again, in her dreams, Smitty gets Janet into a
fashionable nightclub where Sammy is performing as a promising comedian. After
entertaining Janet and Smitty with his routine, Sammy thanks Janet for the
opportunity to lift her spirits.
At this juncture,
Janet has guessed Smitty is the fifth man whom David saved. Desperately in love
with Smitty by now (fast worker), Janet confesses her overwhelming guilt. She
never loved David. Indeed, she made his civilian life utterly miserable. So,
David’s sacrifice was not so much noble as an escape from a life with few, if
any, redeemable qualities. Just like Joe,
David wanted a home, and just like Frank, he also desired to start a family.
Denying him both ambitions, Janet realizes she sent David to war to get away
from her and now blames herself for his death. Smitty persuades Janet to
forgive herself and her ability to walk returns. However, believing he too is just another lost
cause, Smitty spurns Janet’s romantic overtures. Tracking Smitty down at a local watering hole,
he confesses his terrible truth to her: he was David’s commanding officer. He
ordered David to throw himself on the grenade. Knowing David as she did, Janet
tells Smitty that David would have done so without his authority. She then turns the tables on her redeemer, laying
out for Smitty their happy lives together. The
Guilt of Janet Ames is a fairly silly entertainment. Roz Russell and Melvyn
Douglas do their best to elevate the material, but its syrupy, trite and dull –
the one exception, Sid Caesar’s schtick. This has absolutely no place in the
melodrama, but excised from the rest of the movie it absolutely reveals Caesar’s
fine-tuned comedic timing.
Made
independently by Walter Wanger Productions, and distributed in the U.S. by Eagle-Lion
under the title, The Black Book
(1949), Anthony Mann’s Reign of Terror
is a sumptuously mounted melodrama set during the French Revolution. The
picture stars Robert Cummings as Charles D'Aubigny, a patriot thrust into the thick of things
after an unlikely twist of fate. Following
the beheading of Marie Antoinette, Maximilien Robespierre (the underrated Richard
Basehart) aspires to rig the provisional government and become France’s
dictator. Already wielding his autonomy with frightful consequences, Robespierre
summons François Barras (Richard Hart), the one man who can nominate him before
the National Convention. No fool, Barras can plainly see Robespierre is mad
with power and absolutely refuses to do so, thus, sending him into exile. Meanwhile,
Charles secretly murders and impersonates Duval (Charles Gordon), a ruthless prosecutor
from Strasbourg summoned by Robespierre under prospects shrouded in mystery. As
neither Robespierre nor Fouché (given devilish and leering aplomb by Arnold
Moss), Robespierre’s Chief of Secret Police has met Duval, Charles’ substitution
is taken at face value. Robespierre tells Charles that his ‘black book’,
containing the names of those he intends to condemn to death, has been stolen. The
wrinkle here is the black book remains in Robespierre’s possession, thus leading
everyone on a wild goose chase.
Robespierre
claims if his foes only knew who was on the list, they would band together
against him. Charles is afforded written authority over the whole of France –
except Robespierre – and, two days to recover the book. Charles prepares for a
clandestine meeting with Barras (Richard Hart), set up through his only
contact, Madelon (Arlene Dahl), whom he once loved. Alas, the pair is followed
by Fouché. Charles uses the document provided by Robespierre to get himself out
of this pickle. But Barras is arrested and imprisoned by Saint-Just (Jess
Barker), another of Robespierre’s cronies. Skillfully, Charles allays suspicions as per
his motives on both sides, though he obviously is conspiring against
Robespierre to secure Barras’ freedom. Attending Barras in prison, Charles
informs him three of his best men have been murdered. Yet, something is remiss as none of their
rooms were ransacked. Thus, Charles wisely surmises the black book was never
stolen in the first place. Robespierre is exploiting its whereabouts to
distract his foes until he can usurp and claim legal authority over the
citizens of France. Still suspicious, Saint-Just delays Charles exit from
prison, sending for the real Duval’s wife (Mary Currier) to identify her
husband, quite certain she will reveal to all that Charles is an imposter. Instead,
Madelon pretends to be Madame Duval, disentangling Charles from this fate.
Chagrined, Saint-Just has no recourse but to release Charles. At the prison
gates, Charles and Madelon share a pensive moment as they come face-to-face
with the haughty and exclusive real Madame Duval.
The pair make
their escape moments before Madelon’s impersonation is found out. Now, Charles returns alone to Robespierre's
private office in search of the black book. Encountering the opportunistic
Fouché, seemingly ready to betray Robespierre, Charles sets about tearing apart
the office until he uncovers the book. Revealing his true self, Fouché tries to
stab Charles, the latter, strangling Fouche into submission before escaping
with the book. Reunited with Madelon, Charles barely escapes Saint-Just and
Robespierre in the market square, aided by market sellers, Pierre Blanchard (John
Doucette) and his wife, Marie (Ellen Lowe), who disguise Charles and Madelon in
peasant clothes and offer them the use of, not only their horse-drawn cart, but
also their modest country house as a hideout. Encountering a road blockade on
the outskirts of Paris, Charles and Madelon fool the guard into allowing them
to pass. They are pursued on horseback by Saint-Just and his crony sergeant
(Charles McGraw). Eventually, the posse winds up at the Blanchard’s house,
forcing Charles and Madelon to hide in the hay loft while Grandma Blanchard (Beulah
Bondi) runs interference and, in tandem, conceals the whereabouts of the black
book that Charles has rather stupidly left in plain sight on the bed where
Saint-Just is now taking his brief respite.
Stealing horses
right under Saint-Just’s nose, Charles and Madelon make a valiant attempt at
escape. A nighttime chase ensues and Madelon is captured, taken back to Paris
and mercilessly tortured. Still, she refuses to talk. As the Convention convenes,
Fouché offers to barter the book for Madelon’s life. Charles refuses; the book,
instead, passed among the delegates who learn of Robespierre’s truest
intentions. Thus, when Robespierre pompously denounces Barras, the mob instead
angrily turns on him. To silence his conniving, Fouché has one of his henchmen wound
Robespierre with a musket through the jaw. Unable to speak in his own defense,
Robespierre is taken to the guillotine and beheaded as the crowd wildly cheers
his demise. Amidst this chaos, Charles invades Robespierre’s office, discovering
the secret room where Madelon is being kept prisoner. Just outside, Fouché begins
an unlikely conversation with an officer witnessing Robespierre’s murder. The
unprepossessing man introduces himself as Napoleon Bonaparte (Shepperd
Strudwick) and Fouché, unimpressed, promises to remember his name.
Produced by Robert
Cummings’ indie production house, United Californian, The Black Book benefits from a superior screenplay by Philip Yordan
(later, to rise to prominence as a collaborator on Samuel Bronston’s classic
run of grand epics) and Æneas MacKenzie; also, some very fine acting from all
concerned. The picture’s uniquely dark and ominous visualization is the work of
none other than cinematographer extraordinaire, John Alton who, under the most
stringent lighting conditions, manages to paint a series of evocative and
textured images, employing stark shadows. Cobbling together his production
design, William Cameron Menzies has achieved a minor coup, establishing the
look of a genuine Grade ‘A’ epic, working mostly with Broadway-based stars. The
picture was shot for a paltry $40,000 on pre-existing sets. Yet, miraculously,
it gives every impression of having been conceived as a big and glamorous
costume epic made at MGM in its heyday.
The next movie is,
arguably, the first that can rightfully be
Unknowing of
this ruse, Glenda takes Johnny along, the two boarding a plane and flying to a
remote island somewhere off the Florida Keys. There, Johnny meets Morgan Vallin
(George Macready), a sinister puppet master who prefers a bow and arrow to a
gun, and, also happens to be Glenda’s husband. Immediately suspicious of Johnny,
Vallin orders him to hand over his gun. Realizing if his ‘gun blanks’ deception
is found out his camouflage could prove fatal, Johnny spends the next little
while trying in vain to retrieve it. Two of Vallin’s contacts, Pelham Vetch (Ivan
Triesault) and Grote (Walter Rode) arrive for a clandestine meeting on the
island. Vallin takes Johnny and Glenda to the mainland for the horse races. To
test Johnny’s fidelity, Vallin gives him a package to deliver. Johnny seizes
this opportunity to get a message to Schultzy. Momentarily assuaged of his
suspicions, Vallin allows his wife to dine alone with Johnny. As she remains
the trusting sort, Johnny feigns an attack of malaria and Glenda quickly takes him
to the nearby hospital for treatment. Once again, he secretly feeds more intel
to Schultzy. Now, Johnny tells how Vallin is working for an underground
consortium who plan to flood the West Coast with $5 million dollars in counterfeit.
Schultzy asks Johnny to find out where the money is hidden.
Returning home,
Glenda’s attempt to seduce Johnny is found out by Vallin who calmly threatens he
is a bad loser. Under the cover of night, Johnny skulks off to the docks where
Vallin’s boat is moored and contacts Schultzy by radio. Tracing the
transmission, the Coast Guard surround the island, leaving Vetch and Grote to
accuse Vallin of treason. Eavesdropping, Johnny learns the counterfeit money is
already on the island. Rather ruthlessly, Vallin murders his two accomplices.
Again, Johnny signals the Coast Guard. Meanwhile, Glenda divulges her desire to
leave Vallin. As proof of her newfound fidelity, she leads Johnny to the cave
where the money is hidden. Discovering the blanks in Johnny’s gun, Vallin
hurries to the cave to intercept the lovers.
Armed with his bow and arrow, Vallin prepares to murder Johnny.
Mercifully, Glenda thwarts this attack. Johnny and Vallin struggle, the latter
tumbling over a steep cliffside to his death.
The Coast Guard collect Glenda and Johnny. Each is promised light
sentences for their selfless aid in ridding the world of the treacherous Vallin.
Johnny Allegro is a rather clumsily
strung together claptrap. George Raft is his usual dead-pan self, while George
Macready makes the most of his clichéd villain. The best performance goes to
Nina Foch’s slinky and deceptive Glenda, and she makes the most of her ‘third
wheel’ presence. But Karen DeWolf and Guy Endore’s screenplay, based loosely on
a story idea from James Edward Grant, is a mess, relying far too heavily on Joseph
F. Biroc’s cinematography to generate atmosphere at the expense of good solid
storytelling. In the end, it doesn’t really work, leaving the characters
dangling.
One of the best noir thrillers in this collection follows: Earl McEvoy’s The Killer that Stalked New York (1950), set in the not-so-distant past of Nov. 1947, and, starring the barely recalled Evelyn Keyes (whose claim to fame will likely always be she played Scarlett O’Hara’s younger sister in Gone with the Wind, 1939). Herein, Keyes is Sheila Bennet, a sultry singer, wed to a real cad, who unbeknownst to everyone, is infected with smallpox while on a diamond smuggling job in Cuba for her oily hubby. The Killer that Stalked New York is a bit of a misnomer, as the main titles depict a silhouette of Keyes’ character toting a pistol. And while, Keyes does attempt, in the movie’s climax, to hold her husband, Matte Krane (Charles Korvin) at bay with a gun, the actual killer here is smallpox – the plague, inadvertently begun when Sheila, already suffering from its dizzy spells and night sweats, comes in contact with the first of her many unintended victims; a child, Walda Kowalski (Beverly Washburn), come to Dr. Ben Wood’s (William Bishop) clinic for a routine check-up. Wood’s correctly diagnoses Walda with whooping cough and informs her reluctant mother (Celia Lovsky) she will need to go to hospital for treatment. In the meantime, Sheila ignores Matt’s instructions to remain separated for a time, barring his concerns; first, that their apartment is under surveillance by Treasury Agent Johnson (Barry Kelley), but also, being found out in his incestuous love nest with her sister, Francie (Lola Albright).
En route to the
apartment, Sheila encounters a porter at Penn Station who will also fall prey to
the silent killer lurking within her. Meanwhile, Dr. Wood, who briefly encountered
Sheila at his clinic under a false name, sends her away with a bottle of
medicine. Wood is perplexed by Walda’s inability to get well. Consulting Dr.
Cooper (Ludwig Donath) about her case, Cooper correctly diagnoses Walda with
smallpox. Informing the Mayor (Roy Roberts) of their ominous finding, as it
could be the start of a terrible plague to hit the Big Apple, the Mayor concurs
and orders the city’s officials to take a proactive stance, converting every
fire hall and police station into free clinics, encouraging the public, via radio
broadcasts, to go to their nearest location for vaccinations. Still unaware she
is the harbinger of death, Sheila returns to Matt, resting in their apartment
for days under the watchful eye of Belle - their skeptical landlady (Connie
Gilchrist). Eventually, Sheila learns Matt and Francie have been having an
affair in her absence. Matt lies to Sheila, both about the affair and the delivery
of the smuggled diamonds he plans to fence for $50,000 at a local pawn shop run
by Anthony Moss (Art Smith). Riddled with guilt, Francie confesses the romance
to Sheila who is wounded, but actually much too sick to care. Meanwhile, Wood
has the entire hospital staff vaccinated. Walda becomes enfeebled by the
disease and eventually dies. Unsuccessfully trying to locate Matt, Sheila goes
to Francie’s apartment, only to discover her sister has committed suicide.
Now, Sheila
hurries to a nearby flophouse managed by her brother, Sid (Whit Bissell),
pausing at a nearby playground to partake of a quick drink at the water
fountain. Inadvertently, several boys playing a game of baseball nearby also sip
this water, becoming contaminated with the virus. Sid admonishes Sheila and
blames her for Francie’s suicide. He cannot, however, remain hard-hearted.
Realizing Sheila is ill, and being pursued by treasury agents, Johnson and
Owny (Richard
Egan), Sid offers her refuge in his room at the flophouse, also unaware she is in
the advanced stages of smallpox. Simultaneously, Wood identifies Sheila as the
woman he treated at his clinic – the one who came in contact with Walda, and
likely responsible for this plague. Desperate to find Sheila, Johnson and Owney
break into Sid’s establishment. Sid ushers his sister down a fire escape and
through a back gate leading to an adjacent cemetery. Meanwhile, the vaccine
supply is exhausted with only half of New York’s 8 million citizens currently
protected by inoculation. The Mayor orders the vaccine’s manufacturers to
produce more and fast. Painfully
stricken with the virus, Sheila appears at Wood’s clinic. Alas, he overplays
his hand and is superficially wounded by Sheila, using the gun she intends for
Matt. While Wood struggles to telephone
the police, Sheila flees to a nearby convent, determined to stay alive until
she hunts down Matt. Remembering Anthony Moss as Matt’s fence, Sheila hurries
to his shop, only to discover Matt has already murdered Moss because he refused
to pay out for the hot diamonds. Matt pleads for his life as Sheila threatens
him with her pistol. In her weakened state, she is easily subdued. Only now,
the police have closed in on Moss’ shop. Hurrying upstairs, Matt ventures onto an
outside ledge several stories high, pursued by Sheila. Rather clumsily, Matt loses
his footing and plummets to his death, leaving Sheila to be rescued by Wood.
Before she dies, Wood manages to gain valuable insight from Sheila – enough to
control the epidemic before it is too late.
The Killer that Stalked New York is a superbly
underrated noir classic. Evelyn Keyes delivers what is likely her finest
performance as the physically-ravaged/emotionally-tortured would-be femme
fatale, unknowingly spreading death across the Manhattan landscape. Harry Essex’s
screenplay, based on a Cosmopolitan article by Milton Lehman, is deftly written
with fast-dialogue. No vignette is wasted. Joseph F. Biroc’s cinematography
creates a desolate and dark landscape, building upon the story’s mounting
dread, fear and panic as this race against time begins to unravel. Next in the
line-up is Joseph M. Newman’s 711 Ocean
Drive (1950), a fantastic crime drama costarring Edmond O'Brien as Mal
Granger, an enterprising fellow, bitten by the bug of organized crime, Joanne
Dru, as Gail, the sultry alcoholic plaything of point man, Larry Mason (Don
Porter – of TV’s Gidget fame), and,
Otto Kruger, ailing but still enough of a menace, as East Coast Syndicate crime
boss, Carl Stephans. Franz Planer’s cinematography owes very little to the noir
style – trading0 deep focus/dark-shadowed nightmarish claustrophobia for
brightly lit Californian sun-baked glamour with a seedy underbelly of corruption
seeping in from the peripheries of the screen. 711 Ocean Drive begins with an innocuous motivation; Granger, a
telephone repairman living on a shoestring, and into his bookie, Chippie Evans
(Sammy White) for horse-betting, brought to the attention of smooth operating
gangster, Vince Walters (Barry Kelley) because of his technical expertise.
Walters’ underground betting syndicate is good. But it could be better, given a
slick technical upgrade by Granger, who steadily advances his demands for a cut
of the profits.
Despite being a
sworn bachelor, who regards women as nothing but trouble, Granger takes an
interest in Walters' attractive assistant, Trudy (Dorothy Patrick) until she is
arrested. Granger's ‘cutting edge’ method for ‘broadcasting’ intel to the
bookies ahead of their betting curve makes him invaluable to Walter’s
organization. After discovering he is being taken advantage of, Granger leverages
his success against a 20% take of all operations, threatening to walk if he
does not get his way. Granger’s house rules are harsh. He squeezes all of Walters’
bookies to produce more. One bookie, Tim (Charles Jordan) grumbles. Indeed, he
can barely keep up with Walters’ latest demands. When Walters threatens Tim
with foreclosure, Tim guns down Walters before fleeing into the night. The
murder benefits Granger, who now takes over the daily operations and ramps up
his authority. This makes Granger a prime target for Lieutenant Wright (Howard
St. John); also, East Coast mobster Larry Mason, sent by his boss, Carl
Stephans to ‘convince’ Granger to join their Syndicate.
Larry’s wife,
Gail is of loose tongue and morals. Indeed, her one true love is the bottle.
Gradually, Gail develops a romantic yen for Granger. Her affections do not go
unnoticed by her husband, who roughs Gail up, sending her to the hospital with
superficial wounds, supposedly sustained in an ‘accidental’ fall at home.
Meanwhile, a handful of Granger’s independent bookies are beat up by the new syndicate’s
goon squad. Granger could care less. The new arrangement has made him more
profitable than ever. Meanwhile, an ever-so-slightly reformed Trudy returns to
work for Granger. Her business acumen finds a discrepancy in the accounts.
Granger is being cheated by Mason. As revenge,
but also to prove to Carl he means business, Granger hires a hitman, Gizzi
(Robert Osterloh) to murder Mason with a rifle – the crime, witnessed by Gail.
Only now, Gizzi plots to blackmail Granger, arranging for a midnight rendezvous
at the pier. Begrudgingly, Granger agrees to pay $25,000 in hush money, only to
learn Gizzi wants in as a full partner. Instead, Granger crushes Gizzi to death
against the pier's railing with his car. Misdirecting Wright as to his whereabouts
at the time of the murder, Wright has the call taped, hearing the distinct
background sound of a streetcar whistle. Eventually, paint from Granger’s damaged
car is matched to Gizzi’s body.
Now, Granger plots
his escape to Guatemala. Only first, he plans to collect money owed him from
Stephens. Gail and Chippie help Granger tap into a mobbed-up betting parlor in Vegas.
Intercepting the race results by a
two-minute delay, Granger has Gail and Chippie place substantial bets, already
knowing the winner. Unfortunately, Chippie is fingered by a man harboring a
grudge against Granger. The man tells Stephens who, in turn has Chippie brought
to him by force and threatened. Stephens then passes along this intel to Wright;
content he has rid himself of a very tiresome colleague. The dragnet tightening,
Granger and Gail flee to Boulder Dam to escape Wright's jurisdiction. Instead,
they encounter a roadblock. In the movie’s penultimate showdown, Gail collapses
from fatigue and Granger is killed by Wright’s officers before he can cross over
to the Arizona side. 711 Ocean Drive
is a lively but nebulous thriller, using illegal gambling as mere background
filler. The gangster milieu is weakly delineated, and further muddled after the
assassination of two of its principle players: Walters, and, Mason. Otto Kruger,
a formidable baddie in countless movies from the mid-1940’s, is woefully
underutilized here. His performance is also afflicted with a sort of weary ‘phoned-in’
quality – as though he knows he is merely token ‘evil’ and simply not up to it.
Edmund O’Brien is absolutely wonderful as the hot-headed and ruthless chief,
who comes to his bitter end by way of a very crooked route. But in the end, 711 Ocean Drive is a fairly
unprepossessing crime drama with more vice than virtues to recommend it.
Next in the
line-up is Robert Parrish’s Assignment:
Paris (1953), a topical thriller feeding into the Cold War hysteria. Costarring
heavy hitters, Dana Andrews, Marta Toren, George Sanders, and, noir fav’ Audrey
Totter, the screenplay by William Bowers, from Walter Goetz and Jack Palmer
White’s adaptation of Paul and Pauline Gallico’s story, Trial of Terror, is something of mangled mishmash, full of fumbled
espionage and intrigues with Sanders cast against type as the noble Nicholas Strang;
editor of New York Herald-Tribune’s Paris syndicate. There is so much misdirection
and bungled romantic détente, further marred by a bit of soapbox grandstanding
against the big bad wolf of communism, it’s just waaay too much to fit neatly –
or even competently – into 85 min. Parrish (with an uncredited assist by Phil
Karlson) has cobbled together a forgettable yarn and underutilized his big
ticket assets with Dana Andrews, yet again, cast as a knock-off of the tough-talking
gumshoe he played in Otto Preminger’s Laura
(1944), herein, as Jimmy Race – a ‘too aggressive for his own good’ reporter
working for Strang while rather transparently trying to get in good with his
best girl and fellow reporter, Jeanne Moray (Marta Toren). Moray has just returned
from Budapest with a scoop about an unholy alliance brewing between Hungarian
puppet dictator, Andreas Ordy (Herbert Berghof) and Yugoslav socialist, Josip Broz Tito.
As there is no quantifiable proof of this, the story is quietly killed by
Strang, who wholeheartedly believes it, but cannot print what he knows.
Radio-telephone
delivery of news from Hungary informs Strang and his associates that an
American named Anderson has since been indicted for spying, tried and sentenced.
Ordy broadcasts that although his government has gone relatively light on
Anderson’s 20-year sentence, the next American Imperialist to be caught spying
will be hanged. The heavily censored news doesn’t fool anyone and before long,
Strang has put his two top journalists, Jeanne and Jimmy on the case, to
interview the Hungarian ambassador Anton Borvitch (Donald Randolph) in Paris. Tailed
by Hungarian agents, Ordy learns Jeanne was investigating a lead that could
prove the Hungarian leadership is attempting a secret rapprochement with Tito,
in defiance of the Soviet pact, precluding its satellites from aligning with
Yugoslavia. If true, the Hungarian leadership is in some very hot water with
the Soviets. Ordy would very much like to unearth the whereabouts of Hungarian
defector, Gabor Chechi (Sandro Giglio), the one man who
could expose this burgeoning alliance between Hungary and Yugoslavia. Chechi is
suspected of living obscurely somewhere in France. Meanwhile, Jimmy arrives in
Budapest, determined to get the real story from the inside out. Instead, he is
taken prisoner by Ordy’s men, aggressively interrogated, then psychologically
tortured by Minister of Justice, Vajos (Ben Astar). Piecing together audio recordings
of innocuous answers provided to them by Jimmy, a blatant confession of spying
is ‘officially’ entered into the record and broadcast back to the Paris branch.
No one outside
of Hungary believes this, but Strang is powerless to set the record straight
until he and Jeanne discover a strip of microfilm tucked beneath Anderson’s
passport photo; the image revealing Ordy and Tito sharing a clandestine
rendezvous. Believing he can blackmail Borvitch into releasing Jimmy with this
photograph, Borvitch instead informs Strang the picture proves nothing except Tito
and Ordy once met long enough to have their photograph taken together – a chance
meeting, easily explained away. Now, Jeanne unearths a much deeper truth closer
to home; Strang’s type-setter, Grisha is actually Gabor Chechi, the informant Ordy
is after. Gabor tells Jeanne to go to his apartment and attend his teenage daughter,
Gogo (Georgiana Wulff), who has been instructed to provide Jeanne with definitive
proof he smuggled out of Hungary, attesting to the alliance with Tito. Jeanne
gets to the apartment first, but is followed by Ordy’s men who take back the
important evidence, threatening Gabor’s children until he arrives under duress
to surrender to them. Mercilessly, Strang has already set up an ambush. As Ordy’s
men attempt to drive off with Gabor, they are intercepted on all sides by the Gendarmes.
A short while later, with Gabor’s complicity, Strang orchestrates an exchange –
Jimmy for Gabor. Ordy keeps his word, but Strang finds Jimmy greatly altered by
the torture he has endured. The movie ends with a tearful Jeanne embracing
Jimmy and Strang securing a tenuous understanding with Ordy - that Gabor will
not be put to death.
Assignment: Paris falls into every conceivable cliché
in the Cold War handbook. Marta Torens Jeanne is a curious lot, at moments,
seemingly knowing far more than she ever reveals, while Audrey Totter, as
fashion columnist, Sandy Tate appears to have virtually no purpose herein
except to utter a few well-laid barbs and toddle along as ‘the girl on the side’
in this high-stakes misadventure. Indeed, whole portions of this plot appear to
have been excised in the final edit – if, in fact, they were ever filmed at all
– and the missing pieces generate a lack of cohesion that results in a creaky
yarn. It plays mostly as deadly dull ‘cloak and dagger’ and falls apart almost
from the word ‘go’. The last movie in
this compendium is Fred F. Sears’ The
Miami Story (1954), a post-WWII police procedural, set in the uber-glamorous
and moneyed Floridian playground. The local constabulary is powerless to divert
the illegal operations of gangster, Tony Brill (Luther Adler), who runs the
fashionable Biscayne Club – a gambler’s paradise for the rich – but has his
fingers in all sorts of illegal activities. Chief among these is the
assassination of two Cuban gangsters exiting a plane at Miami’s airport – the pair,
having promised one Holly Abbott (Beverly Garland) to aid in the discovery of
her elder sister, Gwen (Adele Jergens) who disappeared some time ago. Holly
witnesses their demise, but does not see the killer, pretty boy, Ted Delacorte
(John Baer) who took a job as an airport luggage carrier just for the occasion.
Ted is Tony’s right-hand.
As ‘officially’
nothing can be done about Brill, ‘unofficially’, a consortium of Miami’s most
prominent citizens, including Police Chief Martin Belman (Damian O’Flynn),
newspaper editor, Harry Dobey (Wheaton Chambers), columnist, Charles Earnshaw
(Tom Greenway), department store magnet, Clifton Staley (John Hamilton) and
attorney at law and member of the Bar Association, Frank Alton (Dan Riss)
gather to discuss a more unorthodox approach to rid their fair city of Brill’s
influence. Alton reasons, the only way to stand up to a gangster is by
employing one of his kind to get under his skin. Nearly 12-years ago, Alton successfully
defended smooth operator, Mick Flagg (Barry Sullivan) on a murder wrap. Flagg
was innocent. After his exoneration, he chose to retire from organized crime
and disappear altogether. Now, Alton has Earnshaw write a piece on Flagg and
Dobey run it as a circular in every newspaper in America, identifying Flagg by
his real name. This revelation is injurious to Flagg’s young son, Gil (David
Kasday) who idolizes his father under his assumed name, Mike Pierce. Forced
back into the limelight, Flagg confronts the consortium in Miami and is given
carte blanche to hunt down Brill and break his stronghold down to bedrock. Leaving Gil with friends in northern Florida,
Flagg wastes no time making a nuisance of himself in Miami, informing Brill
that he is working for a Cuban Mafia with plans to muscle in and take over his
turf. Brill can either step aside or face annihilation.
Brill does not
believe Mick’s threats – at first. But after Mick uses the Miami police to
close down the Biscayne Club, some of Tony’s cohorts begin to get very nervous.
Perhaps, after all these years, they are on the losing side. Meanwhile, Holly
breaks into Mick’s apartment, pleading for help to locate her sister. He doesn’t
buy her story. Knowing Holly is in town, Brill sends his moll, Gwen – who also
runs whores for him – to find out all she can. At first, Holly is grateful to
be reunited with her sister. But soon, she realizes Gwen is much changed from
the girl she once knew. Indeed, she is only out to glean any information about
Mick. Holly refuses to betray Mick. To her ever-lasting detriment, she is later
confronted by Brill’s men, accosted, badly beaten and left for dead in Mick’s
apartment. Meanwhile, Mick has one of Brill’s old associates, a two-bit bookie,
Louie Mott (George E. Mott) sprung from jail. Mott is loyal to Mick. But his
early release is further proof for Brill that Mick is playing with a very
loaded deck stacked against his organization. Again, Brill’s associates begin
to feel uncomfortable. Only Brill remains confident. Brill sends Delacorte to
cash the casino checks. Mick intercepts him at gunpoint, offering Delacorte the
opportunity to be his ‘top man’ in Miami.
All he has to do is murder Brill. Given an unregistered gun full of
blanks with which to perform the killing, Mick has the Biscayne Club bugged
with hi-tech surveillance equipment to take in the show. Only Brill is playing
for keeps this time. He kidnaps Gil and blackmails Mick to get out of town or
else have the child killed.
In a ‘last ditch’
effort to undermine Brill, Holly asks Gwen to the hospital, where she pleads
with her to reveal Gil's whereabouts. When Gwen refuses, Mick turns her over to
the police for running hookers. Mick then asks Belman to allow Brill his escape
when they hit the Biscayne again, as Mick believes Brill will lead him to Gil.
Reluctantly, Belman agrees. Meanwhile, inside the club’s private office another
drama is playing out. Delacorte informs Brill he is taking over Miami as Mick’s
point man. He fires the gun with the blanks at Brill who is amused by this turn
of events. The club is raided for a second time. But Brill and Delacorte make
their getaway by boat to Brill’s private yacht, moored offshore near an island.
Mercifully, Mick has made it to the yacht first, ambushing the pair, tossing
Brill to the cops and pummeling Delacorte – who tried to escape – before
handing him over to the authorities too. In the movie’s epilogue, we find Mick, his
reputation restored, returning to his former quiet life as a farmer in Idaho,
along with Gil. Only now, Holly is also at his side. The Miami Story is a taut and tightly scripted actioner with good,
solid performances from Barry Sullivan and Luther Adler. Sullivan’s Mick is a
stoic loner who renews his reformation from a life of crime by performing a
selfless act, while Adler’s Brill is about as flamboyantly deviant as gangster
baddies get. The pair have wonderfully antagonistic chemistry, further buoyed
by a slick turn from John Baer as the cruel and calculating Delacorte.
Well, this is a
bare-bones affair. Owing to Mill Creek’s usual cost-cutting measures (would it
really have killed them to spread their content out) nine movies have been
compressed onto 3 Blu-rays – three movies per disc. As the average run time for
each is roughly an hour and a half, compression artifacts are not an issue. And
Sony, the custodians of these deep catalog titles have, for the most part,
preserved their old Columbia studio heritage with due diligence paid to
quality. With the exception of Assignment: Paris and The Miami Story, all
of the aforementioned titles exhibit consistently impressive video quality. The
gray scale on the remaining titles exhibits superb tonality, with excellent
contrast and razor-sharp fine details that really shows off the impressive B&W
cinematography. There are very minor instances of edge effects, and, certain
process shots do exhibit minor instability and modest gate weave. There is also
intermittent and minute speckling throughout. But on the whole, these 1080p transfers will
surely impress. Not so much on Assignment:
Paris, and definitely not on The
Miami Story. To Assignment: Paris
first. Here, the image is intermittently soft with a decided loss in fine
detail. Film grain intermittently is artificially amplified and therefore distracting
in spots. Contrast also appears weaker than anticipated. Now, The Miami Story, the only movie not
shot in standard Academy ratio, but properly preserved in 1.78:1. This one is a
travesty - plain and simple. Whole portions of this 1080p transfer appear to
have been sourced from second or even third generation prints, riddled in a
barrage of age-related dirt, damage and debris. At times, the image is so
intensely grainy and soft, 16mm blow-ups may have been substituted for 35mm film
stock. There is just no consistency here. One minute, the visuals are passably
sharp and mostly refined – albeit, with a ton of age-related damage – the next;
hazy, soft and horrendously out of focus, with boosted contrast to boot. Just
an overall ugly presentation, unworthy of Sony’s usual pristine commitment to
their back catalog. Where was VP in Charge of Restoration/Preservation Grover
Crisp on this one?!? The audio across all movies is adequate in 1.0 mono
without hiss or pop, although, recorded at lower than usual listening levels.
So, bump up the volume here. Otherwise,
there is nothing else to report: no extras and no chapter stops. Bottom line: Noir Archive: Vol. 1 is mostly a
winner. The movies here are an uneven lot of ‘noir-esque’ melodramas, thrillers
and crime capers. All are well worth your time. There is a lot of good stuff
here, and some great performances to boot. Quality too is mostly admirable. So,
recommended, with minor caveats.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
Address Unknown –
4
Escape in the
Fog - 3
The Guilt of
Janet James - 3
The Black Book –
4.5
Johnny Allegro -
4
The Killer that
Stalked New York – 4.5
711 Ocean Drive
- 3
Assignment:
Paris – 2.5
The Miami Story
- 4
VIDEO/AUDIO
Address Unknown
- 4
Escape in the
Fog – 3.5
The Guilt of
Janet James – 3.5
The Black Book -
4
Johnny Allegro -
4
The Killer that
Stalked New York - 4
711 Ocean Drive
- 4
Assignment:
Paris - 3
The Miami Story
- 2
EXTRAS
0
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