BLACK ANGEL: Blu-ray (Universal, 1946) Arrow Academy

Roy William Neill’s unplanned swan song to the movies (Neill, unexpectedly died from a heart attack, age 59, in 1946), Black Angel (1946) remains a top-tier noir murder mystery, based on Cornell Woolrich’s crime novel, ‘The Black Angel’ – published 3-years earlier. Woolrich allegedly reviled the many alterations made to the plot by screenwriter, Roy Chanslor. Perhaps, the parallels unearthed in this cinematic incarnation hit a little too close to home for Woolrich; the picture’s star, Dan Duryea, cast as a very Woolrich-esque and booze-soaked piano player, Martin Blair, who inadvertently murders his ex-wife/nightclub chanteuse, Mavis Marlow (the utterly ravishing Constance Dowling as the movie’s prematurely dead femme fatale). In addition to the aforementioned players, Black Angel is tremendously well cast: Peter Lorre, as the creepy nightclub owner, Marko; Wallace Ford, as Martin’s kindhearted sidekick, Joe, ex-middle-weight boxing champion, Freddie Steele as Marko’s thug muscle, Lucky; a remarkably restrained Broderick Crawford as police Captain Flood, and, in the pivotal role of the devoted wife, June Vincent as Catherine Bennett. Of the principals, only John Phillips, as the philandering husband, Kirk Bennett – framed for Marlow’s murder - fails to effectively gel. Mercifully, he is barely in the picture, even if the crime for which he is accused provides the necessary propulsion for this plot. Black Angel is a stellar noir that keeps us guessing right until the sublime nightmare that crystalizes the truth for the audience. The revelation, that the seemingly harmless alcoholic, Blair, is, in fact, the murderer, having committed it while on one of his pity-racked drunken binges, thereafter to have blotted out its particulars regarding the demise of the only woman he ever loved, marks Black Angel as a grand tragedy; Duryea’s Martin, a cleverly misguided and self-destructive figure, practically Shakespearean in tone.

In the interim, Black Angel’s reputation has been unceremoniously supplanted in the annals of film noir masterpieces – a curiosity, indeed. In most authorship devoted to the ‘noir’ movement, it barely rates a footnote, if, in fact, honorably mentioned at all. And yet, there is so much to admire here. Paul Ivano’s intricately conceived cinematography opens with main titles lusciously scored by Universal workhorse composer, Frank Skinner, with book-end credits for the three main characters. From here, Ivano moves to an insert of downtown Los Angeles, and then, a superb tracking shot made on Universal’s backlot facsimile, fast approaching Duryea’s love-sick man; the camera, suddenly to follow his wistful gaze upwards, ascending a tall skyscraper to its fifth-story window and beyond the half-shuttered Venetian blinds, penetrating into the fashionable apartment of Mavis Marlow. If only for this sublime and seemingly effortless introduction to two of our main characters, then Black Angel would certainly rate more than a nod. But the picture moves like gangbusters from this moment on, and, through the various conventions of the crime/thriller in unconventional ways; the superficial Mavis, casually abandoned by her housekeeper (Mary Fields) for the pictures, only to return sometime later and briefly witness Kirk Bennett fleeing the scene; then, discovering Marlow’s strangled body in her boudoir. Alas, Bennett was not alone in the apartment when he found Mavis already dead – the appearance, then disappearance of a heart-shaped broach, alerting him he is being framed for a crime he did not commit.

From this darkly purposed kick start, Black Angel appears to be an open and shut case – Bennett, on trial and certainly doomed to hang. Ah, but then there is the wife – Catherine, and her absolute devotion to Kirk, despite his roving eye. Cate will pursue Marlow’s ex, placing herself in peril by feigning a faux career as a singer inside Marko’s slick and stylish nightclub, just to be near the man she suspects of having murdered Mavis. At first belligerent and unhelpful, Martin agrees to accompany Cate on her audition at the club. And although Marko is deeply impressed with her musical talents – hiring the pair as his latest hot act, held over for a third week by popular demand – he has his suspicions too, that perhaps, the gal from nowhere is more involved and enterprising than she lets on. Marko makes Cate a present of a broach. Having been prompted by Kirk to look for the heart-shaped one that vanished from Marlow’s person after she was strangled, Cate is both startled and relieved when the gift made to her by Marko is star-cut, bearing no earthly resemblance to the one she seeks to find, and thus reveal Marko as Mavis’ killer. Part of Black Angel’s success derives from the fact that all of its principal players are giving it their all. There is not a false note among these second-tier stars; particularly, Duryea who, having made a career out of always playing the oily and disreputable heel, herein shatters our expectations as the utterly sympathetic ‘other half’ to June Vincent’s sweet Polly Pure-Bred.   

Duryea, who began his career on the stage in two notable plays, the second, in which he was cast as the unscrupulous Leo Hubbard in Lillian Hellman’s The Little Foxes (the role that brought him to Hollywood for a reprise in the movie version in 1940) would earn a hallowed place in the noir pantheon, appearing in some of the movement’s most high-profile pictures; 1944’s The Woman in the Window, 1945’s Scarlet Street, and, after Black Angel, 1949’s Criss Cross, Too Late for Tears, and, Johnny Stool Pigeon). “I knew with my ‘puss’ and 155-pound weakling body, I couldn't pass for a leading man,” Duryea later reflected, “…I had to be different. And I sure had to be courageous. So, I chose to be the meanest s.o.b. in the movies.” By all accounts, Duryea in life was the antithesis of this carefully crafted on-screen persona; a tireless/peerless professional and even-tempered family man. In Black Angel, in fact, we get to see both sides to Duryea’s character; the piteous drunkard, some have suggested as a mirror-image of Cornell Woolrich’s own manic/depressive and self-destructive nature, and Duryea’s sad-eyed, though invested accompanist, diligently aiding in Catherine Bennett’s ambition to get closer to Marko and unearth the true identity of Mavis’ killer. That all her amateur sleuthing causes Martin to suffer a hallucinatory flashback, resulting in his painful realization he killed Mavis in a drunken rage, generates the penultimate pathos both Cate and the audience feel for this basically good man who did a very bad thing.

Some interesting alterations to the novel: in the book, it is the heroine, Alberta Murray (rechristened as Catherine Bennett) who discovers the body of her husband’s lover and thereafter sets about to prove his innocence by tracking down four men from the deceased’s former life. The action is set in New York City and the resulting search for the truth causes Murray to go slumming in some very dangerous and seedy places to unearth the clues that will exonerate her husband. The movie relocates this action to L.A., and foregoes the gritty underpinnings of the book, including prostitution and a flop house. Even Marko’s nightclub is sanitized in the movie; a sublime high-styled oasis where criminal activity is only hinted at, and where the most daring thing to happen is Cate’s discovery by Marko inside his private office, having cracked the combination to his safe. Herein, the picture is best-served in its casting of the venerable Peter Lorre as the unscrupulous club owner. Lorre, who began acting in Vienna at age, 17, emerging as the haunted child killer in Fritz Lang’s 1931 masterwork, M, was to garner even greater notoriety after fleeing the Nazis – first to England, then Hollywood. Although fondly recalled as a member of the Warner Bros. stock company of supporting players throughout the 1940’s, Lorre’s latter-day independence from that studio yielded some very fine performances, including his turn as the devious Marko in Black Angel. “There is perhaps no one who can be so repulsive and so utterly wicked,” wrote one reviewer in Variety of Lorre’s formidable talents, “No one who can smile so disarmingly and still sneer. His face is his fortune.” Barring his innocence herein, Lorre’s performance as Marko is restrained, with only flashes of that bug-eyed cynicism, suggestive of something far more perverse we never get to experience first-hand.

Black Angel opens with the murder of Mavis Marlow. In short order, the police arrest Kirk Bennett, the last man – supposedly – to see her alive. Catherine is beside herself and sets about to learn all she can about the deceased’s reputation as a loose woman. By a gracious whim of fate, Cate is introduced to Joe, who gingerly formulates her introduction with the heart-sore and gin-soaked piano player, Martin Blair. At first, Blair is aggressive to a fault. He chastises Cate for standing by her man who has been two-timing her with Mavis – his ex, with whom he is still desperately in love. However, by the first crack of sobriety, Martin begins to see things quite differently. He returns money Cate left behind at his apartment in exchange for answers, and thereafter becomes entrenched in Cate’s private investigation to unearth the whereabouts of the real killer before it’s too late. Indeed, Kirk’s trial has gone badly. In short order, he is tried, convinced and sentenced to death. Only new evidence will save his life. Recalling Mavis worked at Marko’s nightclub, Martin and Cate pose as a plausible duet and audition for the boss. Marko is impressed by Cate’s singing and hires the pair on the spot. This affords Cate the luxury to spy on Marko in between sets; also, to keep a watchful vigil over his various ‘other’ dealings at the club. In time, Cate wins Marko over completely, despite objections from his muscled bodyguard, Lucky.

Things at the club reach a fevered edge when Cate, determined as ever to explore Marko’s private office, conspires with Martin, who distracts Marko momentarily, allowing Cate to hurry up the back stairs undetected. Entering Marko’s office, Cate, having earlier remembered the combination to the safe, now proceeds to investigate its contents.  Alas, Marko puts two and two together. Hurrying upstairs, he and Lucky catch Cate in the act. He threatens, although not because he has something to hide; rather, in believing she has come to rob the place. Martin bursts in. The two sheepishly confess the true purpose of their dealings at the club and Marko explains he had absolutely nothing to do with Mavis’ murder. Chagrined and distraught, Cate tearfully retreats home, leaving Martin to get smashed. Marko was her last hope of saving Kirk from the gallows. Meanwhile, Martin’s hellish bender causes a hallucination. In it, he recalls side-stepping the doorman at Mavis’ apartment building and making his way up the back stairs to her penthouse.  Expecting Kirk, Mavis had left her front door unlocked. Now, she finds herself being confronted by a drunken Martin. He points to the heart-shaped broach she proudly wears, a reminder of his love. She admonishes him for his sentimentality and, in a fit of rage, Martin strangles Mavis, leaving her lifeless corpse by the bed for Kirk to discover. Alas, he has not had enough time to get out before Kirk’s arrival. Finding Mavis dead, Kirk retreats into the next room to telephone the police, thinks better of it, but then returns to Mavis’ side, only to discover the broach since seemingly vanished into thin air. In the end, Martin confesses to Captain Flood he is the real killer. Believing him to be chivalrous at first, Cate suddenly realizes Martin is telling her the truth. As the police escort Martin to prison, Cate is conflicted, but breathes a sigh of relief. Kirk will now be spared.

Black Angel is intelligently scripted and expertly played. Few noir thrillers have this much solid storytelling in their favor. Fair enough, the chiaroscuro lighting we are used to seeing in a vintage 40’s noir is absent here. But Universal has spared no expense; Marko’s nightclub and Mavis’ apartment, two of the most stylish sets ever featured in a moody/dark thriller. Deliciously concocted – or rather, reconstituted from Woolrich’s prose (a decision that sincerely irked the author, but otherwise proved competently to streamline the novel’s narrative without losing any of its potency), Black Angel endures as a gripping, inventive and stylish thriller.  June Vincent and Dan Duryea have unusually solid chemistry; so much, that midway into the picture we sincerely forget – or perhaps, even wish for Kirk to be hanged so Cate and Martin can continue to evolve their ‘friendship’ into a love match. Indeed, the picture’s weakest link is its restoration of Cate’s marriage to Kirk in the end. After all, once a cheater/always a cheater. And even though he killed his ex, we empathize with Martin Blair. He wasn’t so bad after all. Despite the consequences that nearly cost him his life, it is unlikely Kirk Bennett has learned his lesson where fast-talking sexpots are concerned. Peter Lorre walks away with yet another finely wrought tightrope of a performance that is both edgy and decadent. The ambiguous nature of his manner contributes to an advancing dread in the story’s second act when we sincerely believe – perhaps, as much as Catherine - he just might be Mavis’ murderer after all. In the last account, Black Angel is suspenseful and scintillating. What else could one expect from a noir thriller?

Black Angel arrives on Blu-ray via a 4K remaster and restoration of original elements on loan from Universal to Arrow Academy. The results, while solid, are not entirely satisfying. For starters, the Universal logo is fairly fuzzy and out of focus. Grain is amplified throughout dissolves, fades, and, matte process shots. The bulk of the movie looks very good, albeit, with slightly anemic contrast.  There are no richly satisfying blacks here, just tonal gray variations that are adequate, if hardly exceptional. Excluding the aforementioned spikes, grain structure is fairly consistent throughout. Apart from the errant speckle or intermittent scratch, the image here is clean and solid. The 1.0 PCM mono sounds great. Alan K. Rode contributes a fairly invested audio commentary that reveals a lot of back story about the making of this movie and careers of the creatives involved. Rode is one of those rare examples of a commentator who, although exceptionally well versed in his knowledge, never seems to be directly cribbing from notes, but speaking intelligently off the cuff.  He is a joy to listen to.  There is also a very brief featurette with critic, Neil Sinyard who covers some of the same ground in this puff piece. Finally, we get a theatrical trailer and some extensive liner notes by Philip Kemp. Bottom line: Black Angel is a good solid noir classic. Despite its relative obscurity in the more widely acknowledged body of noir masterpieces, it deserves a top spot on everyone’s shelf. This Blu-ray is competently rendered without ever looking exceptional. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

3