DESERT FURY: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1947) Kino Lorber

Famously maligned by New York Times’ critic, Thomas M. Pryor as “…a beaut of a Technicolored mistake from beginning to end”, director, Lewis Allen’s Desert Fury (1947) is a well-heeled western/noir thriller, shot by cinematographers,      Edward Cronjager and Charles Lang in incandescent 3-strip Technicolor, and, afforded every opportunity to succeed by its producer, Hal B. Wallis. That the movie emerges as more of a rambling oddity, deemed a colossal ‘in-joke’ by some, rather than bona fide classic in the noir vein is, without a doubt, a curiosity. Chiefly forgivable, is A.I. Bezzerides and Robert Rossen’s screenplay that, in 1947, could only elude to the tawdry nature of Ramona Stewart’s novel, Desert Town, loosely serving as this picture’s source material. So, no overt references to Fritzie Haller’s (Mary Astor) glory days as a prostitute come whorehouse madame. No, our Fritzie runs a respectable gambling joint where men come to be ‘entertained’ while losing the shirts off their backs. And nothing left either, but a passing reference, to Fritzie’s relationship with one Eddie Bendix (John Hodiak), whom she now judges as unsuitable for the likes of her own daughter, Paula (Lizabeth Scott). Bezzerides and Rossen do get away with extolling a ‘something remiss’ twinge of homoeroticism, rather blatantly exhibited between the over-protective sage, Johnny Ryan (Wendell Corey) and his boy-toy/bad boy, Eddie, whose sexual frustrations at wanting to ‘go straight’ with Paula lead to all sorts of complications along the way. Fritzie and Eddie were ‘a thing’, don’t you know? – an impossible scenario, given Hodiak’s youthfulness.  Dear ole Fritzie – middle-aged, though radiantly hard-edged as ever, would have had to have robbed the cradle – literally – to take advantage of this guy back when she was already turning tricks and making a name – if not a reputation – for herself in this Arizona backwater where, ironically, she has since built a palatial home (and where it rains all the time…in the desert?!?!).

Desert Fury is a scintillating boo-boo of a brash and bawdy tale that ought to have been a lot more salacious on the screen. In lieu of unbridled sin, we get the uber-glamour that only Hollywood in its heyday could provide. Everything here looks appealing, from the rickety bridge adjoining the desert to the town, and where it is rumored Eddie’s first wife met with an untimely end, bathed in moon-lit azure, to the damn-near luxurious gingerbread manor house Fritzie lives in, surrounded by lush foliage, utterly belying its supposed locale in the middle of the desert. For the record, the picture was shot mostly in Ventura Country, California with the exteriors of Fritzie’s home actually the Piru Mansion; its interiors, a Paramount set.  While Desert Fury reports to be about Paula’s conflicted love for Eddie, and, her burgeoning relationship with the town’s deputy sheriff, Tom Hanson (Burt Lancaster) – the one overtly butch buck in these parts, the real story here is actually a mobile, dangling two gay couples on the cusp of unhappy revenge: Fritzie, who treats Paula as though she were her lover (kisses on the lips, midnight coddling and comfort on the edge of her bed during an impromptu thunderstorm), and the aforementioned ‘closeted’ affair between Eddie and Johnny. The man-handling here cuts both ways as Johnny tries to re-inveigle Eddie with his ex-Vegas contacts in organized crime, and, Eddie, desperately tries to disentangle himself from Johnny’s cruel and scrutinizing gaze, disgusted by the prospect of losing him to this flaxen-haired girl.

Bezzerides and Rossen’s screenplay is a safe haven for amphibious raunch, slip-covered in escapist Technicolor, and strummed to perfection by composer, Miklos Rosza’s heavy inlay of woodwinds and strings, plumping up the already over-the-top melodrama. Precisely how this screenwriting duo got away with their gay subtext in an era when it was ostensibly better to be labeled a communist than a homosexual, is just one of the inexplicable mysteries to make Desert Fury a compelling watch. For beginners, just consider Paula’s query to her potential lover. Just how did Eddie meet Johnny. Eddie explains, “I was broke. he had a couple of dollars. We got to talking. He ended up paying for my ham and eggs.” Pushing the envelope in permissible behavior, Paula probes, “…and then?” to which Eddie adds a mild zinger, “I went home with him that night. We were together from then on.” So, boy’s will be boys, eh? And where exactly does Eddie’s first wife, who took a swan dive off the bridge in her convertible, or Fritzie’s flagrante delicto with Eddie come in? Our Eddie certainly gets around – and, around to murder too, perhaps. And casting noir fav, Mary Astor as the sexually equivocal matriarch is inspired icing on the proverbial cake, as even in 1947, the recollections from Astor’s fairly blue diary about her own sexual escapades with various and sundry of Hollywood’s hoi poloi (though never meant for publication) had been exposed barely 10 years earlier. So, to find Astor’s Fritzie slavishly devoted to Paula, whom she readily infantilizes as ‘Baby’ and kisses full on the lips more than once – and, at the ‘request’ of her daughter – dovetails rather perversely into that grey zone of even more sexual misdirection about the real lady’s dishonorable intentions.  

Desert Fury opens with the arrival of Eddie Bendix and his…uh…mentor (yes, that must be it!) Johnny Ryan, returning to Chuckawalla, Nevada after a period of absence; just two gangsters in the gambling trade, come home to roost – temporarily. On the outskirts of town, the boys pause at the wooden bridge where Eddie’s wife was killed earlier in a horrendous crash. As the law in Vegas did not take kindly to their business ventures, Eddie now plans to get involved in the local gambling racket instead. Alas, this will cut in on Fritzie’s take as the proprietress of the only gambling house in town – the aptly named ‘Purple Sage Saloon’. Meanwhile, Johnny is restless and steadfast determined to move on to Los Angeles where he is certain Eddie will make them both a small fortune. In tandem with Eddie’s arrival comes Paula’s; at nineteen looking like thirty and newly evicted from yet another boarding school. Education is not for Paula. She has street smarts, if soon-to-be-proven horrendous taste in men.  Against better advice from deputy sheriff, Tom Hanson, an old friend who also happens to be in love with Paula, she instead favors the moody and remote Eddie – his sullen rudeness seen as a sign of masculine virility. Tom might have had a chance with Paula. Indeed, Fritzie, whose driving ambition it is to keep Paula under her control, offers Tom his dream – a ranch and plenty of start-up capital to run it, if only he will wed her daughter at the earliest possible convenience. Feigning agreement to this conspiracy, Tom goes home with Fritzie to make the pitch. Only now, as a forthright man of integrity, Tom explains everything to Paula. Wounded by her mother’s intervention in her burgeoning love affair with Eddie, Paula makes a half-ass attempt at moving out to be with Eddie on his isolated ranch in the desert.

But Johnny does not want any part of her. And although Eddie does not share in Johnny’s contempt for Paula, he isn’t exactly laying on the charm either. Gradually, Paula wheedles the truth out of Eddie – or rather, what she will come to perceive ‘as’ the truth. So, their romance, rocky at best, proceeds to the point where Paula hopes Eddie will whisk her away from her mother’s influences. At first, Eddie does not come to her rescue. But it’s all just a lot of misunderstanding. Having been barred by Fritzie to attend Eddie, and confined to her bedroom like a prisoner in her own home, Paula waits for Eddie to realize what has become of her. Eventually, he does, leading to a showdown in Fritzie’s front parlor. Fritzie orders Sheriff Pat Johnson (James Flavin) to arrest Eddie where he stands. But Eddie knows Johnson does not have a leg to stand on. So, he proceeds to tell Paula everything about his prior ‘involvement’ with her mother. It matters not to Paula, who departs with him to his ranch. However, the relationship begins to sour when Johnny suggests Eddie will never leave him to be with her. Paula tests this theory. Eddie chooses Paula, ordering Johnny to pack up and move on.

Triumphant, Paula returns home to collect her things so she and Eddie can elope. Alas, upon returning to the ranch, Paula is threatened by Johnny. He will kill her if ever she tries to meddle in their lives again. Distraught, Paula leaves teary-eyed. Learning of her thwarted return, Eddie sets the record straight between him and Johnny once and for all. The pair collect Paula in Eddie’s car and proceed to drive to Vegas where, after dropping Johnny off at the bus station, they plan to be married. However, at a roadside diner, Johnny lays his cards on the table. Taking refuge in a booth at the back of the restaurant, Johnny holds Eddie and Paula at gunpoint. With bitter contempt he explains that despite Eddie’s reputation as a tough guy, it is he - not Eddie - who has been the puppet-master in this relationship, making all of the major decisions thus far in their lives. Eddie murdered his wife on Johnny’s say so, after she discovered their criminal activities and tried to leave the marriage. One by one, Johnny shatters Paula’s illusions about the man she only thought she knew; a killer, but a weakling, and a stooge who could never fulfill her storefront of daydreams about the perfect man. Bitter and frightened, Paula flees the scene just as Eddie manages to steal Johnny’s gun away and pump several bullets into him. Paula takes off in Eddie’s car, heading for the relative safety of Chuckawalla, pursued by Eddie in a stolen car and, mercifully, Tom, who just happens to be making his rounds in the desert as their speeding vehicles pass by. Knowing Eddie will stop at nothing to silence her, Paula barely escapes his wrath, successfully guiding her car around a hairpin turn and onto the bridge. Eddie misses the turn, clips the edge of the bridge and topples over the edge into the ravine below. His car ablaze, Paula looks on helplessly as Tom catches up to the wreck and heroically pulls Eddie from the flames. Regrettably, Eddie is beyond help. As paramedics descend upon the scene, Tom takes Paula by the arm. Fritzie arrives and sees the couple walking off together. Presumably, now, with Eddie out of the picture, Tom and Paula will wed each other.

Desert Fury is hellacious fun, well-tailored and thoroughly bizarre. It’s not a great movie, but one so very good at passing the time that it leaves behind the genuine sense of having been royally entertained. You will want to watch this one more than once!  The standout performances belong to Lancaster’s noble fellow with a badge, and, Astor’s devious matriarch, harboring her hidden agendas. Hodiak’s pseudo-gangster is a wash; Hodiak, too fresh-faced and flat-chested to be playing the part of ‘the mug’ convincingly. He does, however, fit rather neatly into one-half of what can only be considered Hollywood’s first transparently ‘gay’ couple on the screen. Wendell Corey’s blue-eyed puppet-master/baddie carries some impressive ballast, especially in the antagonistic confrontations between Johnny and Paula. If anything, Desert Fury’s plot seems almost an afterthought – something to move the story along while we become utterly transfixed by these richly rewarding characterizations. And then, there is Edward Cronjager and Charles Lang’s superb cinematography to recommend. From moon-lit mesas to gaudy gambling houses, and beyond, the Technicolor here is lush and lovely. Even the distant factory overlooking the bridge, spewing smoke from its towering stacks, appears as luminous in rear-projection, otherwise used with refreshing sparsity throughout the rest of the picture. In the final analysis, Desert Fury is good solid entertainment.

And more good stuff on tap in this Blu-ray from Kino Lorber. Cribbing from elements either extremely well preserved or having been afforded considerable clean-up in the interim by Universal Home Video, the custodians of the old Paramount back catalog, Desert Fury looks fantastic in hi-def. Not only is the vintage Technicolor as potent as ever, but the 3-color records are almost always perfectly aligned for a decidedly crisp image that really shows off both the process and the cinematography to its very best advantage. Flesh tones appear amazingly natural, while blues, reds, purples and oranges sparkle. There are one or two instances where the yellow record can appear faintly mis-registered. But these moments are very brief and otherwise, never distract from our viewing enjoyment. Contrast is superb throughout. Age-related artifacts are gone. The DTS mono sounds excellent, if dated. Apart from an audio commentary by film historian, Imogen Sara Smith, comprehensive and well worth a listen (and a few trailers for other Kino Lorber product), there are no extras. Bottom line: Desert Fury is a good movie to add to your collection. The movie is solid. This Blu-ray is exquisite. Highly recommended!

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

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

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