OUT OF THE PAST: Blu-ray (RKO 1947) Warner Archive Collection
Anyone
attempting a critique of the stylistic elements that embody the classic film
noir should begin and end their treatise with Jacque Tourneur’s Out of the Past (1947), the
quintessential crime/drama: a text book example of how all noir thrillers ought
to be made, many have aspired to, but whose promise too few manage to fulfill.
It isn’t only Robert Mitchum’s laid-back garage mechanic, Jeff Markham (nee
Bailey); only Jane Greer, whose kitten-faced damsel in distress, Kathie Moffat
- turns out to be a bone-chilling/cold-blooded femme fatale; only Kirk Douglas’
silken and sinister crime boss, Whit Sterling, or even Paul Valentine’s
smooth-operating killer, Joe Stefanos; each an exemplar of a certain archetype
in the noir movement. Out of the Past
has style plus; Nicholas Musuraca’s cinematography - appetizingly unnerving -
matched by Daniel Mainwaring’s gripping screenplay that doesn’t miss a trick or
waste a moment of the movie’s scant 97 minutes as we slip in, then out, of the
past with ease and purpose; discovering along with our doe-eyed heroine, Ann
Miller (Virginia Huston) that the man she thought she knew is actually somebody
else, neither bad nor good as it were, but severely conflicted over his
lingering feelings for the wicked vixen who, once under his skin has poisoned
his blood for all time.
Out of the Past is perhaps an unexpected noir,
beginning as it does in the stark light of a brisk late autumn afternoon, in
the out-of-the-way town of Bridgeport, California; a rare example where
location work in a film and the actual location being depicted are one in the
same. Musuraca’s cinematography is tinged in the same fatalist shimmer as Cat People (1942); hardly surprising,
given Tourneur and Musuraca conspiratorial aspirations on the aforementioned Val
Lewton classic. Albert S. D'Agostino and Jack Okey’s art direction takes us
everywhere from Frisco to Mexicali, to a remote cabin in the woods, then Lake
Tahoe, and finally back to the relative banality of Bridgeport, only to be
dragged into the mire of this moodily magnificent and moneyed retreat
overlooking the lake. Out of the Past
is more than a clever travelogue; representing these varied locales as
deviations on a central theme: each part of the same ever-constricting trap
that will ultimately devour and destroy our ill-fated hero and blood-thirsty
viper. You just can’t escape from the world that’s been created herein;
suffocating, yet strangely intoxicating in the same instance.
Out of the Past comes at a juncture in RKO’s
history at the beginning of the death throws soon to snuff out the company from
existence by 1957. In its prime, RKO had
fostered some unusual creative talents, gravitating rather unexpectedly from
the light and frothy Astaire/Rogers confections a la Pandro S. Berman (very
expensive to produce, but yielding spectacular returns) to the weightier tomes
of Orson Welles (Citizen Kane, The
Magnificent Ambersons) – both losing money; then, doing an about-face with
Val Lewton’s low-budget/though high-functioning, uber-elegant horror classics
(Lewton’s spate of unexpectedly classy scare-fests temporarily saved RKO from
bankruptcy), and finally, discovering its niche in hard-boiled B-grade
crime/dramas. In many ways, RKO became the ‘house of noir’ throughout the mid
to late 1940’s. Other studios with more capital and bigger names to headline
tried to emulate the style – most notably, Warner Bros. and Fox from the late
40’s into the early 50’s – with MGM entering the field much too late to be
considered a prominent contender.
Yet, only RKO
seemed to consistently excel in the noir movement, perhaps because its’ low man
on the totem pole’ scrapper mentality fit best with the unsympathetic cruelty
of the traditional noir antiheroes and villains. The suave Cary Grant, as
example, could never be a noir hero; nor could Clark Gable or Gary Cooper for
that matter. It fit Bogart to a tee, and helped to reinvent Dick Powell’s
persona over at Warner. It even resurrected Joan Crawford’s sagging career for
two decades – including her Oscar-win for Mildred
Pierce (1945) after her departure from MGM. Still, in retrospect, noir
drama seems to have thrived on that certain autonomy at RKO shared by its less
identifiable players.
Arguably, Out of the Past endures today because
of Robert Mitchum; known then as something of the prototypical Hollywood ‘bad
boy’ after being busted (and sent to jail for 60 days) for possession of
marijuana; caught smoking a joint at a Laurel Canyon house party in 1948.
Perceived as a career breaker at the time, in retrospect, Mitchum’s tenure in
prison had little impact on his ability to procure more acting assignments in
Hollywood. Debatably, it altered his on-screen persona, from heroism
personified in The Story of G.I. Joe
(1945) to playing severely flawed men of less altruistic pursuits, beginning
with Out of the Past. Mitchum’s Jeff Bailey is a guy still striving to live up
to his potential, though ultimately succumbing to the tainted elixir of evil.
This, of course, is made attractive in the embodiment of a woman he cannot help
but lust after.
Good guy/bad
girl: a time-honored impetus in narrative fiction - always raising the ire,
eyebrow and curiosity factor for an audience. After all, what could possibly
make any man, who wants to live honestly, pursue a female who’s obviously up to
no good? Well, sex appeal – duh! ...and perhaps the naiveté that somehow
everything will work itself out in the end; though not even our hero is
entirely convinced of it. In retrospect,
Out of the Past is the ideal
showcase to reintroduce Mitchum to audiences after he’s taken his own tumble
from grace. He’s utterly believable as the faded valentine still caught in
Ann’s hopelessly innocent and starry-eyed stares. Things have become all
tangled up inside his heart. Jeff Bailey wants to keep promises made; both to
Ann and himself, to become that better man. But somehow, he’s unable to to find
the cure for that sexual sting left behind by the bad girl.
Out of the Past may be light on sex (one toppled
lamp in a rainstorm and a few shadows frantically groping at one another on the
wall is about all we get) but there exists a palpable tawdriness – nee, sinful
appeal – to the ‘affair’ between Jeff and Kathie. When Greer’s minx pleads with Mitchum’s
laconic bad boy, telling him “I didn't
know what I was doing. I, I didn't know anything except how much I hated him.
But I didn't take anything. I didn't, Jeff. Don't you believe me?” only to
have him coolly reply, “Baby I don’t
care,” we can utterly believe that nothing really does matter except the
way Kathie fits so perfectly between Jeff’s bed sheets.
We buy into Jeff’s investment in Kathie – much more than his tepid
fidelity to Ann; the girl who would willingly do anything for Jeff – not to
him. That’s Kathie Moffat’s métier. Good
girls like Ann are hard to come by. But bad girls like Kathie are more fun in
the moment. To coin an old Cole Porter lyric, what each “requires is the proper squire to fire her heart.” Ironically,
Jeff’s not that guy – neither for Kathie, and certainly, not for Ann. He might
have been – once – a long time ago. But things change and so has Jeff over the
course of our story. Arguably, Jeff was never as corrupt as Whit, who is
Kathie’s male counterpart. But neither has Jeff been as pure as the driven snow
since he started wearing long pants. When Kathie, feigning delicacy, whispers, "Oh, Jeff, I don't want to die,” he
rather coolly explains, “Neither do I,
baby…but if I have to I'm gonna die last.” Jeff’s truer intentions are, of
course, to remain above it all; at least, to survive this maelstrom he’s helped
to perpetuate.
Repeatedly,
Daniel Mainwaring’s screenplay does its level best to illustrate what a perfect
pair Jeff and Kathie are in spite of Jeff’s protestations. And yet, we cannot
help but empathize with Mitchum’s laconic loner. He wants out – or, at least,
has done everything he can to convince himself of as much. Greer’s diabolical hell-cat shows her real
stripes mid-way through the story by shooting Jeff’s old partner, Jack Fisher
(Steve Brodie) after he attempts to blackmail them at a remote cabin in the
woods, thus sobering Jeff as to where he fits into Kathie’s scheme
d’amour. That’s some chick! She’d slit
her own mother’s throat for a pair of diamond earrings.
There are, of
course, other performances worth noting in Out
of the Past; chiefly Kirk Douglas – considerably evolved since his debut as
the rather weak-kneed sob-sister in The
Strange Loves of Martha Ivers (1946) the year before. In Out of the Past we get our first real
taste of that larger-than-life Douglas persona soon to dazzle for many decades;
reconstituted herein as the beady-eyed mobster, Whit Sterling. With a
deliciously bedeviled grin, ominously laid back charm, and, pensive glint
caught in his eye, Douglas is a fairly menacing presence, every inch in competition
with Mitchum’s 6ft. 1 in. hulk – no small achievement considering Douglas is a
comparatively diminutive 5ft. 9in., and more slender and fine-boned. Mitchum’s
Jeff could mop the floor with Douglas’ Whit – physically speaking - if only
Whit didn’t have the cunning edge on Jeff.
For decades,
Lauren Bacall has insisted she was largely responsible for bringing Douglas’
talents to the attention of star makers in Hollywood; a claim quietly ignored,
though never outright contested or denied by Douglas. Whatever the case; Out of the Past marks Douglas’ ‘real’
movie debut as the take-charge powerhouse. Herein, he exudes a shifty charisma.
Even when he’s nowhere to be seen, Douglas’ Whit looms like a winged gargoyle
over Kathie and Jeff’s affair. Whit’s machismo has been wounded – literally; a
superficial gunshot, Kathie’s parting gift.
She never expected him to live. Now, she’s afraid and with good reason.
Whit’s an animal. His wickedness knows no bounds and once crossed he isn’t
likely to forgive and forget.
Last, but
certainly not least, is Paul Valentine’s unscrupulously captivating hit man, Jo
Stefanos. Frankly, it has always been something of a mystery, as well as a
disappointment, Valentine’s star never ascended the ranks of great noir
villains and/or anti-heroes. With his square jaw, glistening dark pate and
piercing eyes capable of interpolating moments of gleeful attractiveness and
wicked magnetism at a moment’s notice, Valentine certainly had all the makings
of a great character actor. Moreover, in his dark trench and half-cocked
fedora, he matches Mitchum’s damaged detective muscle for muscle. If Out of the Past has any flaw it is the
hasty dispatch of Stefanos in its third act; taking a tumble off a craggy
cliff. Still, Out of the Past is
undeniably Valentine’s finest moment in a career much too brief and marred by
substandard material, more often relegated to second-string support. What a
waste!
Out of the Past opens with a magnificent
tracking shot, the camera mounted on the back of Stefano’s open-top
convertible. His car pulls into an out-of-the-way gas station/garage marked
with the proprietor’s name ‘Jeff Bailey’. Flicking his lit match from a
cigarette at ‘the kid’ (Dickie Moore); a deaf/mute who doesn’t realize at first
that he’s even standing there, Stefano’s goads the reluctant boy into giving up
Jeff’s whereabouts. But there’s no hurry. Jeff isn’t going anywhere. And
neither is Stefanos, taking his coffee at Marny’s roadside café across the
street and avoiding sharp-shooter, Marny’s (Mary Fields) not so subtle
inquiries. Like all busybodies out to learn what they can, Marny tells more
than she hears. From her, we learn Jeff’s been seeing, Ann – the girl who
‘belongs’ to Jim (Richard Webb); the local deputy sheriff.
The scene
shifts to Jeff and Ann spending some quality time together up by the lake.
Ann’s desperately in love, but doesn’t really throw herself at Jeff’s head. On
the other hand, Jeff’s not entirely convinced he ought to be with Ann. He loves her…sort of…and in spite of her
parent’s rigid lack of acceptance. Too bad their date is interrupted by the
kid, signaling to Jeff trouble’s afoot back at the garage. Sending Ann home,
Jeff meets Stefanos cordially, quickly learning this isn’t a social call. Turns
out, Whit has sent Stefanos on a knight’s errand – to bring back the one guy,
Jeff, who could find Kathie Moffat and return her to him. Jeff tells Whit he
ought to forget Kathie but it’s no good. Once Whit’s mind is set on something
it’s best to get out of his way. The trouble is, getting out of Whit’s way this
time means Jeff has to confront his own past.
On the car
ride back to Ann’s, Jeff begins his true confessions. His name isn’t Bailey –
it’s Markham. He isn’t a nice guy, rather ex-thug muscle for a gangland kingpin
who’s rehired him to go in search of the kitten-faced viper under both their
skins. In true noir fashion, Jeff’s reflections kick off an extended
flashback. We see Jeff and his business
partner, Jack Fisher as a pair of New York P.I.’s with a spurious reputation
between them, hired by Whit to hunt down Kathie after she’s already shot him in
the arm and run off with $40,000 of his cold hard cash. Jeff tells Whit to
leave well enough alone. But Whit makes Jeff a promise: Kathie will not be
harmed. Jeff doesn’t really believe this. Whit isn’t the ‘forgive or forgetful’
type.
Sending Jack
on a wild goose chase, Jeff tracks down an old friend of Kathie’s (Mildred
Boyd) who suspiciously fluffs him off at first, then confides that Kathie was
running away to someplace with a lot of sun – Florida, maybe. As it turns out,
Kathie hightailed to Acapulco. Jeff wastes no time taking the next flight out.
For days he sits in a rather seedy café hoping for Kathie to turn up. On the third day out, Jeff gets his wish. But
you know what they say about being careful for what you wish for. Kathy is standoffish and faintly sad. She’s
coaxed from her shell by Jeff’s smooth operations, also by his easy-going male
magnetism. What’s not to like? And Kathie has a sob story to go along with her
pouty lips; one that appeals to Jeff’s tainted sense of chivalry…or perhaps,
merely tantalizes his lust.
The two become
lovers, meeting in secluded places and the beach after dark; caught in the
pouring rain and making love with the lights off in the middle of a violent
thunderstorm. Jeff tells Kathie they have to disappear before it’s too late. It
may already be later than either of them thinks. For who should appear at
Jeff’s hotel room the next afternoon – and just as Jeff is about to pack for
his getaway – but Stefanos and Whit. The pair baits Jeff with not terribly
subtle hints regarding his deceptions. Jeff plays dumb (he’s fairly good at
that) and gets riled when the questions are directly put to him. Whit pulls
back from his inferences, encouraging Jeff to find Kathie with all speed. Jeff
lies about Kathie gone to South America. Instead, Kathie and Jeff hurry north
to San Francisco, living inconspicuously for a time and seemingly happy
together.
Time passes
and Kathie and Jeff grow complacent about blowing their cover; comfortable in
their new lives. Tragically, they bump into Jack at the race track; Jeff
instructing Kathie to go on without him. They’ll rendezvous much later at a
secluded cabin in the woods. Jeff loses Jack…or so he thinks, arriving at the cabin
very late. But Jack intrudes on their solitude, demanding money to keep his
mouth shut. Kathie still insists she never took a dime from Whit; certainly not
$40,000. Instead, Jeff takes a crack at Jack; the two old buddies fairly evenly
matched as they spar around the room, knocking over furniture. Kathie’s gaze
suddenly turns rancid; calculating the inevitable fallout as she reaches for
Jeff’s gun and fires a few well-placed slugs into Jack’s back. Her unapologetic
killing startles Jeff. Perhaps Kathie isn’t the girl he thought she was. And
now he’s an accomplice to murder. What to do?
While Jeff contemplates covering up the crime, Kathie makes a break in
her car, Jeff discovering Kathie’s discarded bankbook, clearly showing a
$40,000 deposit. She’s lied to him – and not just once, either.
We return to
the present, Jeff and Ann pulling into the semi-circular driveway of Whit’s
country estate at Lake Tahoe. Jeff promises faithfully to reunite with her some
time later, going into the lion’s den alone to face his former boss. Even more
of a shocker – Kathie is there too – Whit’s girl all over again. Remarkably,
Whit seems to harbor no ill will toward Kathie or Jeff. Perhaps she’s kept her
mouth shut; at least, so Jeff hopes. Whit informs Jeff he is being blackmailed
by ex-lawyer Leonard Eels (Ken Niles) who helped cover up a tax dodge, but is
now using this information to extort money from Whit. It’s an obvious setup and
Jeff knows it. Nevertheless, he finds himself attempting to warn Eels that Whit
is on to him. Instead, Jeff discovers Eel’s lifeless body lying on the floor,
an affidavit signed by Kathie claiming Jeff murdered Jack amongst the papers on
Eel’s desk. Knowing he’s slipped into it up to his neck, Jeff makes a break for
Bridgeport. Unbeknownst to Jeff or Whit, Kathie has instructed Stefanos to
trail ‘the kid’ who inadvertently leads him right to Jeff, hiding out at a
secluded fishing spot near a rocky cliff.
As Stefanos draws his pistol and prepares to take dead aim, the kid
hooks his fishing line into Stefanos pant leg, causing him to plummet to his
death.
In town, Jim
tries desperately to convince Ann that Jeff’s a bad egg. He’s suspected in a
San Francisco murder. However, believing Jim to be jealous, Ann admonishes him
almost immediately and flees to forewarn Jeff. Back at Lake Tahoe, Jeff
confronts Whit with the truth: Kathie murdered Jack. Whit has no choice but to
turn her over to the police or Jeff will do it for him. Whit admires Jeff’s
ruthlessness, agreeing to the exchange so Jeff can run away with Ann and start
his life over. Alas, it’s not to be. For hours later, Jeff returns to discover
Whit shot through the heart and Kathie declaring she is now in control of their
intertwined fates. She still wants Jeff for her own. Either he comes with her
or she’ll see to it he goes up for Jack, Eel’s and Whit’s murders.
Jeff
reluctantly agrees to Kathie’s plan, but telephones the police shortly before
they depart Whit’s home. In response to his tip off, the police set up a
roadblock at the front gates. Realizing she has been double-crossed, Kathie
shoots Jeff, attempting to take control of the wheel. It’s no use. The car
careens over the side of a steep ravine, killing Kathie and Jeff, the police
later recovering a great deal of money in the trunk. Still unable to bring
herself to believe the worst about Jeff, Ann asks the kid if he was lying to
her. Was he really going to run away
with Kathie Moffat? The kid nods ‘yes’ – thereby liberating Ann from her
reservations. She’s free to love Jim – who clearly still loves her. As Jim and
Ann drive off from the garage, the kid looks up at the placard bearing Jeff’s
name, smiles, nods and walks away.
Arguably, Out of the Past remains the greatest
film noir ever made. Usually, I assuage such overstatements. And undeniably,
there are other noir thrillers in close proximity for this top spot – if, such
a position actually exists (Double
Indemnity, 1944; The Maltese Falcon,
1941; I Wake Up Screaming, 1941, Murder, My Sweet, 1944, and, Mildred Pierce, 1945 pretty near the
top). Yet, Out of the Past just
seems to click in a way these others can only guess at, or perhaps mimic is a
more fitting word; it’s Samson and
Delilah-esque plot, so close to the noir hallmarks that it becomes
emblematic of the movement itself. Remarkably, the style never veers into
cliché. Even more remarkable, Out of the
Past has not aged or become an axiom for the noir movement in all the years
(and all the many imitators) that have followed it since.
Jacques
Tourneur’s direction remains a prototype for the noir drama, while Robert
Mitchum’s chain-smoking and insolent private dick cum grease monkey, all but
typifies the good dupe made a bad example by his own ill wind blowing him
predictably closer to a twist of fate; the latter amply supplied by the
quintessential femme fatale – Jane Greer. The other elements that make Out of the Past work have already been
discussed herein. But the kernel of its enduring success really boils down to
Mitchum and Greer and the utterly toxic on-screen chemistry they share. One can
as easily see them as the perversely hot-blooded lovers, passionately tearing a
little of each other’s skin in the bedroom, as they convincingly mutate into
our story’s darkly amused, but even more aberrant adversaries. Tourneur’s direction never falters and
neither does Daniel Mainwaring’s screenplay; so tightly woven around its
central frame-up that one cannot imagine the movie any other way. No scene is
wasted and no further explanation is required. Out of the Past is undiluted perfection; a total enrichment of the
noir precepts.
Thank you,
Warner Home Video for bringing Out of
the Past…well…from out of the past
in a restored and remastered hi-def Blu-ray. Prepare to be impressed. This 1080p transfer exhibits a superb image with solid grain and an impressively
balanced gray scale, marked by equally impressive contrast levels. Age-related
artifacts fairly prominent on the DVD have been greatly tempered, to
all but eradicated on this Blu-ray. We still have a few fleeting light speckles
here and there, but honestly, this is a pluperfect mastering effort that will surely
not disappoint and an absolute upgrade from your old DVD. Out of
the Past is only available as part of the Warner Archive – a decision I
must say I generally approve, since all Warner Archive hi-def discs support
a very high bit rate.
The original
mono audio has received a DTS upgrade and wow does it sound good – nee great! Alas,
in keeping with the studio’s spendthrift policy, we get no new extras on this
disc. But James Ursini’s audio commentary is fascinating and one of
his best.
A quick heads
up: it seems noted restoration expert Robert H. Harris has hinted 2015 will be
a heady year for Warner Home Video with an aggressive push to release a lot of as yet MIA catalog to Blu-ray. We’ve been promised more Bette Davis, Errol Flynn, Humphrey
Bogart and 3-strip Technicolor restorations – always expensive and time-consuming
(hopefully of The Private Lives of
Elizabeth and Essex, Anchors Aweigh and National Velvet are among them – my projection, not Mr. Harris’).
Perhaps this newly remastered Out of the
Past and the upcoming release of The
Great Race is a taste of what’s in store. I do sincerely hope so, because
Warner has once more proven with this release when they want to they can and do release the best high end/hi-def product in the business. We’ll
wait and see and hope for the best. So, start saving now. Bottom line: Out of the Past is a quintessential
part of American movie art. This Blu-ray comes very highly recommended!
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
5+
VIDEO/AUDIO
4.5
EXTRAS
1
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