THE NAKED CITY: Blu-ray (Universal-International, 1948) Criterion Collection

‘There are 8 million stories in the naked city…’ and this is but one of them – and, a very fine one indeed. The film that spawned one of television’s most successful serials a decade later, director, Jules Dassin’s The Naked City (1948) continues to enthrall, with William H. Daniels’ edgy B&W cinematography, superb screenplay by Albert Maltz and Malvin Wald, and superior performances from the inimitable, Barry Fitzgerald (as Detective Lt. Dan Muldoon), ably assisted by Howard Duff (Frank Niles), Dorothy Hart (Ruth Morrison) and Don Taylor (Detective Jimmy Halloran). The plot, at least cursorily, haunts the ole stomping grounds of the standard ‘noir’ police procedural detective story. What sets The Naked City apart from its contemporaries, and, indeed, trademarks it as a true classic for all time with a seismic gestalt for its time, is the exquisite melding of its pseudo-documentarian style, seamlessly to the fictional tale, charting the investigation of a young New York model’s brutal murder. Notwithstanding its pair of Oscar wins – for Daniels, and film editor, Paul Weatherwax, The Naked City is a crime/thriller with guts as well as gats. Alas, its producer, Mark Hellinger (who also narrates the picture) never lived to see the longevity of its success; Hellinger, suffering a fatal heart attack on Dec. 21, 1947, shortly after reviewing the final cut of the picture at his home, prior to its premiere. Hellinger was only 44-yrs. young. Stylistically, The Naked City is based on New York photographer, Weegee’s (a.k.a. Arthur ‘Usher’ Fellig) book of photographs, first published as ‘Naked City’ in 1945. And Weegee’s pseudo-Italian neorealist approach to capturing the grit and grime of Manhattan's Lower East Side as a press photographer is dutifully reproduced by Daniels for the movie.

For Hellinger, at least in retrospect, The Naked City remains a curious sort of corrupted valentine to New York, with the producer’s blissful attachment to Manhattan’s restless cacophony of oddities and eccentrics intact, tongue, firmly in cheek. You can ‘taste’ New York in The Naked City, even if its pungency might not be to everyone’s palette. Unsurprising, perhaps, Hellinger paints a portrait of this towering steel and concrete edifice, ever so slightly rancid, as Hellinger, having begun his career as a lowly reporter some years before, now has at his disposal all of the finely wrought craftsmen of the picture-making biz toiling at his side to make this tale of a bath-tub homicide crackle with notable distinction, even if the crime scene, and what follows, occasionally veer into quixotic overtures. Hence, rarely is ‘this’ city ‘naked’ – warts and all; rather, fancifully reconstituted into a series of pseudo-glamorized byways and back alleys, station house interrogation rooms, seedy tenements, and playgrounds slightly gone to seed, a moodily lit wharf, and, the occasional ostentatious hotel. Thus, Hellinger’s insular beguilement with New York endures, gets cleverly – even ambitiously – concealed behind the crime story, the occasionally wordy screenplay punctuated by a slam-bang finale to takes us on a TripTik of the Lower East Side with a real ‘wowzer’ on the Williamsburg Bridge.

Where the picture falters – and, it is only a minor hiccup – is in the big build-up to the end – a lot of ‘dumb show’ of the ‘slice-o-life’ ilk that follows Det. Muldoon on his ‘connect-the-dots’ investigation of the murder, peppered with intriguingly detailed respites: some hilarious, others, unusually affecting. Barry Fitzgerald – a true gem of the movies – offers up both whimsy and wit in a performance to peg him for many a plaudit (and a few jibes) upon the picture’s release. It’s virtually impossible not to find his character crustily likable at a glance. As counterpoint, Howard Duff’s ‘con’ and Ted De Corsia - as thug muscle-goon, Willie Garzah - do much to offset, and thus, inadvertently to augment Fitzgerald’s breezier blarney stone charms. Composers, Miklós Rózsa and Frank Skinner fill in the gaps with occasional flourishes to showcase their art, gilding the visuals in a weird punctuation of sound and fury. Arguably, there are more fascinating avenues to explore in a city as big, boisterous and corrupt as New York. But Hellinger here makes us believe no story is of graver significance than the one at hand; the ‘by the book’ lives of cops and killers striking an indelible impression, for which Hellinger – in this, his premature swan song – has managed to create as memorable and lasting an epitaph to his creative genius as he might have deliberately aspired to, had he known his own end was as near.

Our story begins in the wee hours of a steamy New York night as two shadowy figures subdue with chloroform, then murder ex-model, Jean Dexter by drowning her in a bathtub. When one of the murderers is suddenly stricken with an attack of conscience his more callous cohort simply disposes of him too, tossing the body in the East River. Honor among thieves, indeed! Homicide Det. Lt. Dan Muldoon and his young associate, Det. Jimmy Halloran, are assigned the case. Soon, they interrogate housekeeper, Martha Swenson (Virginia Mullen), who informs about Jean’s ‘boyfriends’ – one in particular, a Mr. Henderson, who naturally becomes ‘a person of interest’. At the scene, Muldoon finds sleeping pills and an address book. Halloran questions the doctor who wrote the prescription, Lawrence Stoneman (House Jameson); also, Ruth Morrison (Dorothy Hart), another model and Jean's best friend. Back at the station, Muldoon grills Frank Niles (Howard Duff), Jean's ex, who claims only to have had a ‘business relationship’ with the deceased, and completely denies knowing Ruth. Exposed in his lies, Niles becomes Muldoon’s prime suspect, although it is later deduced by ligature marks on Jean’s neck, she was actually killed by two men. Next, Jean’s estranged parents, the Batorys (Adelaide Klein and Grover Burgess) arrive in town to identify her body. In the meantime, Muldoon learns Niles pawned a stolen cigarette case to help pay for a one-way ticket to Mexico. Muldoon also deduces one of Jean’s rings was actually stolen from the home of socialite, Mrs. Hylton (Enid Markey); the ring belonging to the high-faluting maven’s daughter – none other than Ruth!

The pieces of the crime begin to fall into place as the bauble is now identified as Ruth's engagement ring to Niles. Ushering Ruth to her fiancée’s apartment, Muldoon and Halloran intercept a mystery man attempting to murder Niles. The would-be assassin manages to get off a few pot shots at the cops before escaping to a nearby train trestle. When questioned about the stolen jewelry, Niles – rattled, though still not enough to reveal all of his secrets - instead claims they were presents from Jean, thus revealing the extent of his ‘friendship’ with the deceased, and, much to Ruth's vexation. Niles is arrested – alas, only for the theft of the jewels.  Halloran discovers that the body recently dredged from the East River is Peter Backalis (Watler Burke) – a small-time operator who died within hours of Jean. Now, Halloran reasons a strong likelihood the two crimes are somehow connected. While skeptical, Muldoon permits Halloran to follow up on this hunch, even assigning him backup to expedite his findings. Halloran eventually unearths the identity of Backalis’ accomplice - Willie Garzah, a harmonica-playing ex-wrestler. Meanwhile, Muldoon grills Niles to reveal the true identity of Jean's mystery boyfriend – Henderson – who turns out to be none other than Dr. Stoneman.

Muldoon uses Niles to trap the married Stoneman into confessing his affair with Jean, only to reveal Jean and Niles were blackmailing Stoneman to perpetuate a string of robberies on his society friends. Niles then confesses Garzah murdered both Jean and Backalis. Halloran locates Garzah, inferring Backalis survived his ordeal and is currently in hospital, preparing to give testimony. Garzah, while not terribly bright, is enough of a wit to know Backalis was already quite dead before he tossed him into the river. Now, he sucker-punches Halloran, momentarily rendering him unconscious.  Garzah’s escape leads Muldoon and Halloran on a chase through the crowded streets. Painted into a corner, Garzah shoots and kills a blind man’s guide dog on the pedestrian walk of the Williamsburg Bridge, attempting, first to cross it, then climb one of its towers to elude police. Instead, gunfire is exchanged and Garzah, mortally wounded, loses his grip, plummeting to his death. The movie concludes with a breathtaking aerial view of the New York skyline as Hellinger’s voice confirms what would later become the opening tagline for the TV series – “There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them.”

The Naked City is deliciously dire, with cleverly calculated bits of wry humor to offset the severity of its often ‘by the book’ investigation. Unique for its time, in that it contains no opening credits apart from Hellinger’s oral introduction of the title, cast and various crew, The Naked City continues to stand as a sort of inelegant monument to that particular ilk in Hollywood-ized police procedural crime stories that, for a brief moment in the mid to late 1940’s was all the rage and captivated audiences and movie moguls alike – the latter, eager to capitalize on variations of the ‘crime doesn’t pay’ morality appeal (good for the Code) with such darkly executed tales about human depravity (very good for the box office). Hellinger paid – handsomely, it seems – for the rights to Weegee’s photographic catalog and published book, ‘Naked City’, simply to gain access to the title for his movie; also, to acquire Weegee’s services as an ‘in-house’ consultant. To emphasize the picture’s verisimilitude, Universal Studios trumpeted the fact cinematographer, William H. Daniels’ had ‘hidden’ his cameras all over the city to capture the ‘authentic’ flavor without its inhabitants being aware of the camera’s presence. The studio also made much of the fact only 4 of the 24 featured roles were played by Hollywood actors; the rest, gone to homegrown radio and stage talents. In the end, The Naked City emerged as Hellinger’s crowning achievement – ground-breaking even, as it represented a foray into neorealist aesthetics, yet unseen in American cinema.

Viewed today, the picture holds up. Though crime serials existed on the radio, in comics and film long before its contribution to the sub-genre, The Naked City represents something of a departure from that time-honored status quo while retaining the all-pervasive air of futility the very best noir thrillers possess in spades. Shooting on location – mostly – is a definite plus; New York, providing Dassin with a backdrop no back lot could rival. And Hellinger here has established the blueprint for all crime dramas yet to follow it on both the big and small screens. The picture crackles with an intriguing vitality that belies the ‘advantages’ made in the 72-years since its theatrical release. Viewed from our current corrupted vantage, over-saturated in police procedural crime stories, the characters of Muldoon and Halloran still possess an inquisitive and organic buddy/buddy chemistry more recently adhered to on TV’s Law & Order. The brief respites we get in the picture, devoted to the private lives of Muldoon and Halloran, the latter seen in heated discourse with his ever-devoted little woman (Anne Sargent) over child-rearing techniques, humanizes these characters as well as providing them with a thumbnail backstory as to who and where the ‘great defenders’ of the masses hail.  In the final analysis, The Naked City emerges as a supremely engaging drama of the ‘little gem’ class in picture-making; a class to be all but expunged from the picture-making biz by changing times and Hollywood’s ‘bigger is better’ mentality throughout the 1950’s.

The Naked City arrives on Blu-ray via Criterion in a 1080p transfer that will be a revelation to some, and one having undergone a miraculous resurrection throughout the last 72-years.  As the original 35mm elements have long since been destroyed/lost, what is here represents a concerted effort put forth by Germany’s TLEFilms Film Restoration & Preservation Services; a 2-yr. odyssey, scouring the world for ‘best surviving’ elements, culled together, then reassembled, with considerable effort paid to restoring both the visuals and soundtrack to optimal levels. The results are impressive to say the least. Apart from a minor oddity afflicting film grain (it looks clumpy and occasionally unstable), the bulk of the image sports reasonably resolved fine detail, a solid balancing of the gray scale, and a general obliteration of age-related wear and tear without homogenizing into a waxy mess of liberally applied DNR. Better still, contrast is excellent, with deep blacks, superior highlights and overall image stability that, again, suggests elements much younger – and in much better shape – than with what TLEFilms first began. The work here has been diligently addressed and the results will surely NOT disappoint. Better still, Criterion has padded out the extras; first, with an interview from, Dana Polan; another featuring author, James Sanders, and finally, a 2004 Q&A with Dassin, conducted for the Los Angeles County Museum of Art – but in utterly deplorable condition. Polan and Sanders offer independent critiques on the cinematic/historical significance of the movie. Both pieces are well worth your coin. Bottom line: The Naked City remains an intriguing picture to behold, suggestive of the darkly purposed crime stories that would continue to follow it up, re-warming, yet morphing the ‘crime doesn’t pay’ initiative into ever more spectacularly conceived grim and engrossing thrillers of varying shades of gray. Criterion’s Blu-ray, while decidedly not perfect (and never to be), is nevertheless, very close to hitting the bull’s eye. Highly recommended!

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

3