I WALK ALONE: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1947) Kino Lorber

My first exposure to director, Byron Haskin’s I Walk Alone (1947) was a snippet excised and reedited into Carl Reiner’s claptrap noir send-up, Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid (1982) – a very inauspicious start. It would take me nearly 2 more decades to unearth the original in its entirety – a noir/crime drama, not altogether well received in its day, though since acquired a cult following, and well worth a second glance on Blu-ray; thanks to solid performances from Burt Lancaster, the hot-headed equivalent to a human Molotov cocktail, Kirk Douglas, atypically slithery and slick, and, flush-faced/pseudo-beauty, Lizabeth Scott (born Emma Matzo) – Paramount’s answer to Betty Bacall. To find Lancaster and Douglas on equal footing in this early start in both their careers is perhaps no great surprise. Both men have star quality writ large across their brows. But exactly how Scott came to fame is a matter of some question, and even more curiosity, considering her odd push in pictures to be the sort of cool sexpot with a sharp tongue and keen mind, precisely the image that had built Lauren Bacall into a legendary overnight sensation.  Scott’s ascendence was neither as swift, nor as assured.

In late 1940, an 18-year-old Scott auditioned for Hellzapoppin, assigned to one of its 3-road companies, and then billed as ‘Elizabeth Scott’ under producer, Michael Myerberg’s tutelage.  She became understudy to Tallulah Bankhead - it should be pointed out, over Bankhead’s strenuous objections - fueling rumors the already married Myerberg was boffing his new find. Likely Bankhead’s professional jealousies had a lot more to do with the fact that - at 20 - Scott was twenty-years her junior. This legendary rivalry eventually served as the basis of Mary Orr’s short story, The Wisdom of Eve (1946), later transformed into the Oscar-winning classic, All About Eve (1950) by director Joe Mankiewicz. When Bankhead elected to bow out of the production, Scott was as bewildered to learn Myerberg had already given the part to Miriam Hopkins, keeping Scott on a leash as her understudy, a decision that eventually caused Scott to quit in disappointment. By a gracious whim of fate, Scott came to the attention of producer, Hal B. Wallis, then, steadily advancing his career at Warner Bros. Scott also befriended New York press agent and Hollywood Reporter columnist, Irving Hoffman and shortly thereafter, foreshortening her own name by lopping off the ‘E’.

So, the legend goes, Scott’s pin-up in Harper's caught the eye of agent, Charles K. Feldman who arranged for screen tests at Universal and International Pictures. Neither studio chomped at the bit. Only now, Scott tested at Warner Bros., again coming to Wallis’ attention, despite having earlier turned him down for an opportunity to return to the stage. Wallis liked what he saw and Scott officially made her movie debut in 1945’s You Came Along. On loan out to Paramount, Scott’s career steadily gained ground, appearing to ample effect in The Strange Loves of Martha Ivers (1946). To say Wallis was fanatical about advancing Scott’s stature is an understatement. Indeed, having made the move to Paramount himself, Wallis’ primary objective now became to hand-craft Scott’s image and status as a ‘star’ While costar, Barbara Stanwyck bristled at Wallis’ over-zealousness, on her next picture – 1947’s Dead Reckoning, Scott’s billing rivaled Humphrey Bogart’s on lobby posters and advertisements. From here, Wallis guided his starlet through the labyrinth of ‘finding’ her persona – imbued with a certain toughness and attitude that could, in tandem, be insouciance, even smug, hard-bitten or cool, and decidedly, very sexy – qualities Scott would show off to their best advantage in Desert Fury (1947), a mordant Technicolor noir/western, made and release the same year.

I Walk Alone is a sordid little tale of betrayal and vengeance. Behind the scenes, production went anything but smooth. Prior to her involvement with Hal Wallis, Scott had begun a torrid liaison with co-star, Burt Lancaster on the set of Desert Fury. This might have worked, except that Wallis was very territorial where Scott was concerned. And Scott, no fool as to where her professional ambitions might best be served, chose Wallis over Lancaster after wearing her collar and cuffs with the hunky he-man, leading to all sorts of uncomfortable moments on the set. Indeed, Scott had not been Wallis’ first choice for the part of nightclub chanteuse, Kay Lawrence – rather, Kristine Miller, who would eventually appear in a cameo, as the begrudging socialite, Mrs. Alexis Richardson. Competitive to a fault, Scott appealed to Wallis for the part. Wallis relented. But the relationship between Scott and Wallis became volatile thereafter, and frequently, the actress would emerge from his office, puffy-eyed from crying, and, nearly unmanageable for the rest of the day’s shoot. It did not help matters that Lancaster, spurned in his romantic intentions, now gave Scott a very chilly reception. The two, hot and heavy on the set of Desert Fury, now were barely civil to each other. In fact, Lancaster tried to break his 7-year contract with Paramount because of their failed affair. Even though he did not win this argument, Lancaster did hold out, refusing to be cast opposite Scott in subsequent movies.

I Walk Alone benefits from a solid script by Charles Schnee, loosely based on Theodore Reeves ‘Beggars Are Coming to Town’ – also, Leo Tover’s moody cinematography, and Victor Young’s powerful score. The picture opens with the release of prison parolee, Frankie Madison (Lancaster), who took a 12-year wrap for bootlegging with his partner, Noll ‘Dink’ Turner (Douglas). Madison is out for revenge, stemming from the incident that landed him in prison while Turner got off scott free – his loyalty to Turner never properly repaid. In fact, in the intervening years, Turner has done everything he can to distance himself from Madison, sending in the ever-devoted Dave (Wendell Corey) with a weekly stipend of cigarettes. In the interim, Noll traded in their old rum-runner digs for a downtown nightclub catering to the swells. And while Noll employs several of their old-time associates, including thug muscle, Dan (Mike Mazurki) as the doorman, he is as adamant about keeping Madison out of the picture. Sensing Madison is out for blood, Noll lies about his motives and stalls his ex-partner with promises of being made a full-partner in this current thriving enterprise.  Instead, he sets Madison up for a private supper with singer/gal-pal, Kay Lawrence, to pump him for info.  Instead, Kay truly gets to know Madison and likes very much what she sees – enough to show him genuine empathy.

And why not? After hoping to land the boss, Kay is informed by Noll he will instead wed the elegant, if spiteful, Alexis Richardson, merely for her money. Madison gets together some of the old boys who remained outside of prison and above the law, including small-time hood, Nick Palestro (Marc Lawrence) to muscle his way into Noll’s club. Only now, Dave reluctantly informs him Noll has fixed the books in such a way as to exist as a legitimate corporation. He cannot ‘cut’ Madison in on any deal, precluding authorization from his ‘board of directors’, surely never to be granted to an ex-jail bird. So, Noll rather condescendingly tries to pay off Madison with $2500, his cut from the old rum-runner’s shack he traded in. Resisting this kiss off, Madison is tossed on his ear by Noll’s goon squad; given the once over in the back alley, discarded with the trash, but rescued and comforted by Kay. Repulsed by Noll’s behavior, Kay becomes fiercely loyal to Madison. Meanwhile, Dave, naively informs Noll he intends to expose his illegal book-making – payback for the way Noll treated Madison. In reply, Noll shoots Dave dead in the street, pinning the murder on Madison.

In no time at all, the papers are calling for a manhunt to arrest this cold-blooded killer. Kay and Madison swipe a car and find their way to Noll’s country estate. Alas, here too they are seemingly too late; intercepted by Noll, lying in wait with a gun. Madison plays along, but manages to wrestle the weapon away from Noll, taking him hostage and back into the city. Along with Kay, the men arrive at the nightclub after hours. Madison gets Noll to write out his confession at gun point. He killed Dave. Thus, when the police arrive, Madison presents the signed confession as proof of his innocence. What is more, Kay can vouch for Madison’s whereabouts at the time of the murder. Faced with imminent incarceration, Noll takes one last stand – a gun from behind the bar, holding everyone at bay. Mercifully, in his grand plan to murder Madison before his escape, Noll is instead gunned down by newly arrived officers on the scene. As Noll lays dying on the floor of his beloved nightclub, Kay and Madison take each other by the arm and head for the street. At long last, he is a free man - free from the tyranny of wanting revenge.

I Walk Alone is a fairly entertaining noir thriller with good solid acting put forth by its three principles. The behind-the-scenes antagonism between Lancaster and Scott never shows, but adds an electricity to their verbal sparring and the eventual on-screen reconciliation of their characters. Kirk Douglas, not yet a full-blown star, has the challenge of conveying an oily confidence at the start of the movie, morphed convincingly into the shaky-voiced antics of a real rat before the final fade out. Mostly, he accomplishes this transition.  It is a pity Kristine Miller is so under-utilized here. After a few early scenes genuinely showing off what a fine actress she is, Miller is relegated to the backdrop and then, entirely expunged from these proceedings. She never gets her chance to shine. In 1947, the chief gripe with I Walk Alone was that it heavily slanted the audience’s sympathy toward Lancaster’s ex-prisoner; something that gravely concerned Hollywood’s self-governing code of censorship. Wallis defended the decision, claiming that a 12-year stretch in the pen had more than paid Madison’s debt to society for running illegal booze during Prohibition.  However, this lack of empathy for Madison did, in fact, color many a review written at the time as well as audiences’ response to the character – despite having such a popular heavy-hitter as Burt Lancaster playing the part. Today’s audience are far more liberal in their forgiveness of such sin. So, today, I Walk Alone is regarded as something of a minor classic in the noir vein, and rightfully so. It oozes a dark and sinister atmosphere, with a lot more than mere ambiance to recommend it.

Regrettably, the elements used to remaster I Walk Alone to Blu-ray are not in fine form. This is being advertised as a ‘4K remaster’ from original 35mm elements. But there is a lot of age-related debris scattered throughout this presentation. Worse, contrast appears to have been ever-so-slightly boosted. The image is soft and out of focus. Film grain is inconsistently rendered – heavy in spots, nonexistent in others. The gray scale is decidedly weak, with unrefined blacks and dingy whites. Sourced from a safety dupe negative, which has obviously seen better days, Universal Home Video – the custodians of Paramount’s pre-50’s catalog, have lent Kino Lorber a 1080p transfer that also exhibits some minor edge effects, gate weave and wobble. Overall, this is an unimpressive offering, and such a shame too, for a movie with performances this good and an atmosphere that demanded at least basic clean-up be performed. The audio is DTS mono and adequate for this presentation. The only extra is an audio commentary from film historian, Troy Howarth, well worth the price of admission. Bottom line: I Walk Alone is an entertaining movie given short shrift on Blu-ray. Judge and buy accordingly.

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

2.5

EXTRAS

1