AN ACT OF MURDER: Blu-ray (Universal-International, 1948) Kino Lorber
A middle-aged man murders his wife of some years;
nothing particularly original or entertaining in that – unless the picture
happens to be director, Michael Gordon’s An Act of Murder (1948) and the
actor playing the accused is Fredric March. Based on Ernst Lothar’s novel, Die
Mühle der Gerechtigkeit, An Act of Murder (a.k.a. Live Today for
Tomorrow, a.k.a. I Stand Accused) is curiously lumped in with the
noir movement, in that it neither adheres to virtually any of its hallmarks,
beyond the crime at the crux of our story. And yet, even in this, there is no
crime of passion; no femme fatale, pushing our flawed hero on to his inevitable
doom. No, An Act of Murder is set within the context of a devoted
marriage, its protagonists in their middle-ages, with an adult daughter on the
cusp of her own romance. And Hal Mohr’s cinematography is fairly pedestrian –
no chiaroscuro lighting effects, no fog-laden back alleys or shadowy docks down
by the water. The picture is, in fact, a tale of a mercy killing – the victim,
fatally stricken with a debilitating disease, certain to render her final days
on earth a very tortuous affair. And thus, the husband, Judge Calvin Cooke, as spectacularly
understated by March, is a man of conviction, at first, desperate to spare his
beloved wife, Cathy (Florence Eldridge) her fate by administering a lethal dose
of the medication designed to assuage, though incapable of curing her pain. An
Act of Murder is a superb melodrama, tinged in tragedy and a devastating
realization, expertly characterized by both March and Eldridge (who actually
were married to one another in real life and would reprise their roles as
mature marrieds on camera in Stanley Kramer’s Inherit the Wind, 1960).
Interesting here, to consider Fredric March, whose rare
protean attributes made him one of Hollywood’s most uncanny chameleons. Born
Ernest
Frederick McIntyre Bickel, on August 31, 1897, by the time the talkies came to
town, March had already segued away from his start in pictures as a silent
screen matinee idol; a moniker he accepted in stride, though increasingly to be
cast as a troubled young man in pictures like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931,
and, for which he won his first Best Actor Oscar) and alcoholic movie star,
Norman Maine, in David O. Selznick’s original version of A Star is Born
(1937, for which he was thrice nominated). By the mid-1940’s, March’s glycerin
good looks had withered, replaced by an even more ripened sense of moody
confidence. He remained very much sought after to play conflicted men of
dubious conscience, often with disturbing undertones of some such petty larceny
afoot. An Act of Murder plays into our apprehensions about March’s screen
persona – the ambivalence of a stern magistrate who, in private life, is
devoted to two things: his family and the law. Only two years earlier, March
received his second Academy Award playing another devoted husband and father in
William Wyler’s war-time classic, The Best Years of Our Lives (1946).
So, his casting herein, administering justice with a strict adherence to his
own moral code of ethics, seems to carry over that indelible sense of March’s
own authority. And yet, throughout his career, March usually played his
otherwise Teflon-coated severity with a fragile underlay of deep self-doubt.
And thus, we come to his portrait of Cooke - a very frightened man, indeed,
isolated in his terrible secret, yet resolved in his painfully achieved
decision to end his wife’s suffering honorably.
We can almost forgive director, Gordon for his falsely
premised kick-starter to this movie; two old codgers, electing to enter the
county courthouse because Cooke is preparing to render his verdict on a high-profile
case. Cooke has already decided the accused will get twenty-years hard labor
for his crime. A man of principles, Cooke is nevertheless entrenched in his
ways. Defense attorney, David Douglas
(Edmond O’Brien) recognizes this fundamental flaw and challenges Cooke to
reconsider his verdict. Alas, he is unsuccessful in proving his client's state
of mind as a mitigating factor. The relationship between Cooke and Douglas is
adversarial to say the least; animosity compounded, as Douglas also happens to
be secretly dating Cooke’s daughter, Ellie (kitten-faced Geraldine Brooks).
Sometime later, Cooke will actually grant Douglas' motion for a mistrial on the
grounds he may have unconsciously shown prejudice. But for now, Cooke’s
decision stands firm; a natural resolve, exacerbating Ellie’s reluctance to
reveal to her parents the romance between her and Douglas. Instead, Ellie appeals to her mother, Cathy
who, while illustrating great compassion for her daughter’s plight, is
nevertheless, unerring in her love for her husband. For the couple’s 20th
wedding anniversary, Cathy has invited two old friends of the family to dinner,
Doctor Walter Morrison (Stanley Ridges) and retired magistrate, Jim Wilder (Will
Wright).
The party, alas, is marred by two incidents – the first,
Cathy, suffering from a sudden onset of an extreme headache. Indeed, under the
influence of this rare affliction, Cathy cannot even gauge her ability to pick
up a wine glass. As her momentary lapse goes virtually unnoticed by the others,
the more prescient wrinkle to rattle this otherwise perfect evening involves
Douglas’ impromptu arrival to collect Ellie for a night on the town. Realizing
his daughter is in love with a man he generally cannot abide, Cooke presses
Douglas to debate a recently authored memoir by a renowned judge. Cooke views the
book as brilliant, but Douglas suggests it is as antiquated and out of touch
with the responsibilities of the law as it applies to today’s society. The next day, Cathy feigns going into the city
to shop for a birthday present for her husband. In actuality, she attends
Morrison, a respected neurologist, in his office for a series of tests to
deduce the severity of her condition. Morrison, who adored Cathy in their youth
and even proposed marriage to her long ago, is now deeply concerned for her well-being,
consulting three of his colleagues for advice while keeping his suspicions to
himself. The diagnosis achieved by all four is grave. Cathy has an inoperable
brain tumor. Her rapidly advancing illness will thus continue to deteriorate
into bouts of excruciating pain until she dies. Electing to keep Cathy in the
dark, Morrison instead informs Cooke about his wife’s condition, prescribing
Demarine for temporary relief but forewarning of the drug’s toxicity if its
maximum dosage is exceeded.
Determined to make Cathy’s final days as memorable as
possible, Cooke, who previously denied her a second honeymoon due to his heady
case load, gets Judge Ogden (John McIntire) to take over his roster, surprising
Cathy with the much-needed respite she had hoped for – returning to the same
hotel where they spent their first honeymoon together twenty-years earlier.
Alas, bliss is denied the happy couple. Cathy takes a turn for the worst and
Cooke is forced to administer a dose of Demarine, pretending it is aspirin. Telephoning
Morrison from a pay phone while Cathy lies quietly in their room, Cooke
witnesses a dog struck by a car in the street. Surveying the wounded animal, a
police officer elects to end its suffering with a gunshot. Disgusted by his own
similar thoughts, Cooke discards the remaining pills prescribed by Morrison.
Meanwhile Cathy, who has momentarily recovered, is rummaging through their
luggage when she inadvertently discovers an envelope with Morrison’s, and the
other doctors’ notes regarding her health. Lying to Cooke about her desire to
return home, on the road trip back into town, Cathy’s symptoms worsen. Car trouble
delays their journey and Cooke pulls into a local mechanic’s shop, inquiring
about the nearest pharmacy. On the road again, after making repairs, Cathy
collapses. Distraught, Cooke deliberately drives his car off an embankment – presumably
to kill them both. Instead, he survives the crash, but Cathy dies.
In keeping with his philosophy on the law, Cooke now
demands to be prosecuted for murder. At Ellie's request, Douglas agrees to
defend her father. Requesting an autopsy to determine whether or not Cathy actually
died from her illness or the crash, the results are even more startling when a
lethal dose of Demarine is discovered in her system. Now, Douglas unearths that
Cathy, knowing of her condition, had the prescription filled before the drive
home, deliberately committing suicide by taking an overdoes at the gas station
while Cooke was settling the bill with the mechanic for the car repairs. Judge
Ogden dismisses the murder charge but suggests to Cooke, as he knew what he
tried to do was wrong, he remains morally on the hook. Cooke concurs and makes
it clear that, if allowed to remain a judge, he will endeavor to rule on this
basis, similarly, that a person may be legally guilty but morally innocent,
precisely, Douglas’ argument all along.
An Act of Murder is a sobering melodrama with a
moral to extol. Michael Blankfort and Robert Thoeren’s screenplay wisely places
the emphasis of the story on Cooke’s flawed nobility and his struggle to make
sense of his principles when pushed to the brink of his own darkest despair.
Fredric March achieves a sustaining level of pathos here, void of what could so
easily have devolved into amateur theatrics of the ‘woe is me’ flavoring
by design. But March, ever brilliant and gifted, provides us with a thinking
man’s dilemma. It likely helped his performance he is playing opposite his real
wife, whom he was extremely devoted to, and thus, projecting Cooke’s thoughts
and empathy onto his own manner and behaviors. Apart from this intuition, it
goes without saying, March is a consummate professional – ironically, not as
well regarded today outside of die-hard film fans, old enough to recall his
supremacy as an actor. I suspect one of the reasons for March’s quiet fading
into relative obscurity stems from his apparent lack of a trademarked acting
style. Casting no aspersions here, but one always knows what to expect from a
Cary Grant or a James Stewart – their built-in iconography preceding whatever
role they may adopt on the big screen. But March is so malleable from picture
to picture – seemingly to effortlessly blend into the scenery – we can easily
forget it is a ‘star’ we are watching; also, to set aside the longevity of his
career, which was formidable. Fredric March died of prostate cancer in 1975,
age 77; his last appearance, two-years’ prior, in John Frankenheimer’s The
Iceman Cometh (1973). An Act of Murder is undeniably one of March’s
finest performances – less flamboyant than some, but as astonishingly on point
as any he ever committed to film.
An Act of Murder arrives on Blu-ray via Kino Lorber’s
alliance with Universal Home Video. This
single-layered 1080p transfer is derived from source materials that have not
altogether withstood the ravages of time. Add to this the fact the digital
files supplied to Kino are likely a decade or so old and have been afforded no
further clean-up to ready them for hi-def, and, well…what can I tell you? It’s
Universal, with their finger on the proverbial ‘chicken switch’ yet again. I deplore Uni’s shortsightedness where their
catalog releases are concerned. An Act of Murder’s B&W gray scale is
anemic. There are no true blacks, and whites tend to lean a bit into the dingy
side, belying Hal Mohr’s finely shot cinematography. A few exterior shots made
on the Uni backlot appear ‘milky’. Age-related artifacts are present and,
during the last reel, result in a very annoying triumvirate of vertical scratches
running up and down the right side of the screen. Grain levels have been artificially
homogenized. The image is ‘thick’ but unresolved, and fine details are
decidedly lacking the necessary ‘oomph’ to impress. Still, this is mostly
watchable – if hardly perfect. The DTS mono is adequate. Historian, Samm
Deighan provides a contextualizing commentary, offering good solid coverage on
director, Michael Gordon, his other films, blacklisting in Hollywood, etc. Well
worth a listen, for sure. Bottom line: An Act of Murder is an engrossing
melodrama worthy of our rediscovery. Currently, this feature is only being sold
as part of Kino’s latest installment of their ongoing series: Film Noir –
The Dark Side of Cinema IV. Recommended for content. The transfer is only
so/so.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
2.5
EXTRAS
1
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