CROSSFIRE: Blu-ray (RKO, 1947) Warner Archive

Edward Dmytryk’s Crossfire (1947) was not well-received by the U.S. military. Indeed, the army screened it only at US military bases while the navy boycotted it outright…and, arguably, for good reason. The picture is a rather incendiary indictment on the code of silence among its rank and file that keeps close to its chest of medals the brutal murder of a civilian because he is of Jewish extraction. It was a starling ‘break out’ year for exposing anti-Semitism at the movies, with the year’s Best Picture Oscar going to Darryl F. Zanuck’s personally supervised, Gentleman's Agreement. Crossfire is a different animal entirely – a detective-driven film noir, made by scrapper studio, RKO – in the throes of its own sad decline into oblivion, and, with a hard-hitting screenplay by John Paxton, based on Richard Brooks’ 1945 novel, The Brick Foxhole. Perhaps most impressive of Crossfire’s achievements is Dmytryk’s ability to lure top-flight stars, Robert Mitchum, Robert Young, Robert Ryan, and then rising sexpot, Gloria Grahame, to partake of this exercise. Evidently, Dmytryk knew his craft as well as his audience. Considered B-grade fodder at the outset, Crossfire was nevertheless nominated for 5 Oscars including one for Ryan’s bone-chilling performance as the vial racist, plus another for Best Supporting Actress to Grahame.

Brooks had written his novel while still a sergeant in the U.S. Marine Corps, assigned to make training films at Quantico, Virginia, and Camp Pendleton. The irascible Brooks always considered himself first and foremost, a writer who entered the picture-making biz, merely to ensure his words and concept made it up there on the big screen. One of a truly select group whose careers bridged the chasm between the golden-age studio system and indie-produced projects emerging from the mid-sixties and beyond, Brooks’ was a career-long struggle to break from the industry’s straight-jacketed self-governing censorship. When he died of congestive heart failure in 1992, surrounded by his family and long-time friend, Gene Kelly, Brooks left behind an infallible legacy of pictures that truly tested these boundaries, and often the patience of his bosses, cast and crew. Herein, I am reminded of Brooks’ ‘pep talk’ to the cast and crew of Looking for Mr. Goodbar (1977). “I'm sure you (all) have… ideas about what kind of contribution you can make…to improve it or make it better. Keep it to yourself. It's my fucking movie and I'm going to make it my way!” In Brooks’ source material for Crossfire, the victim is a homosexual. Despite being well-acquainted with the concept, Hollywood en masse was not interested in promoting a liberal agenda then. Hence, homosexuality remained a taboo topic, akin to sexual perversion. And so, the victim, Joseph Samuels (Sam Levene) instead fell prey to an anti-Semite for his faith, rather than his sexual proclivity.

Robert Ryan, who knew Brooks while also serving in the Marine Corps, became convinced the part of the unscrupulous Montgomery was tailor-made for his talents. Indeed, Ryan had made a successful career out of playing repugnant loners, full of venom. For Ryan, the acting bug bit early, in 1937, when he joined a little theater group in Chicago. The following year he was studying with Max Reinhardt in Hollywood, and, shortly thereafter, offered a 6-month contract with Paramount. Although the studio plugged him into several high-profile programmers, they dropped Ryan at the end of this short run, whereupon he returned to Broadway in an even shorter run that, nevertheless, got him noticed by a talent scout for RKO. In many ways, RKO was the perfect studio for Ryan – both the studio, and its newly acquired star, struggling to find their niche in the post-Astaire/Rogers era of art deco musicals, turning to quota quickie horror movies and darkly purposed noir thrillers for their bread and butter. WWII briefly interrupted Ryan’s career, but also led to a fruitful alliance with Richard Brooks and his casting in Crossfire. As the psychologically complex, anti-Semitic killer, Ryan proved the standout, and, was immediately elevated to full-blown star. Yet, in many ways, Crossfire would typecast Ryan for the rest of his career. The point is – it ‘gave’ him his career.

Apart from its alteration in the motive for the murder, Crossfire offered fairly uncompromising and jaundice fidelity to Brooks’ prose. Producer, Dore Schary – who greatly admired ‘truth’ and ‘message pictures’, along with screenwriter, Adrian Scott – stripped bare the genteel pretense surrounding the exclusion of Jews from intermarrying or belonging to the ‘right’ social clubs. Yet, those expecting a pedestrian whodunit were in for a distinct surprise, as the métier of this movie was its exposure of bigotry and racial prejudice, taken to its nth degree. Dmytryk rivets us to our seats with this uncompromising and ugly portrait, employing multiple flashbacks to color and detail the multifarious outlooks that gradually warp Montgomery’s perspective on the sanctity of human life.  And Ryan, who in life was the very antithesis of the wickedly dark characters he often played, herein convincingly transforms his unassuming self into a terrifyingly tough and sinewy loud-mouth. We completely believe he is capable, not only of indulging in, but deriving immense pleasure from this ‘thrill kill’. The other well-formulated performance here is owed Robert Young as Capt. Finlay (in a role originally envisioned for Dick Powell) – a sort of pre-Columbo, inquisitive and probing police lieutenant, whose intellect and awareness are curdled by the crime. In her minor role as Ginny Tremaine, a girl of the streets, Gloria Grahame emerges as plausibly shameless and pitiable. Of the majors in the cast, only Robert Mitchum, as Sgt. Pete Keeley, is underused. Mitchum, in fact, hated the role that – ironically – paved the way to his becoming ‘the soul of noir’, and actually became the springboard to his casting in the iconic, Out of the Past (1947). In decades to come, Mitchum would suggest that any extra in Hollywood could have played Keeley.  This is likely true enough, though perhaps none with the looming and dark presence of Mitchum in his prime.

Crossfire has the look of a typical RKO programmer from this period, coming on fast and strong and all over in barely 86 minutes of taut suspense. Summoned to investigate the brutal murder of Joseph Samuels, police investigator, Finlay unearths there may be a murderer among a contingent of demobilized soldiers, entertaining Samuels and his ‘female friend’ at the hotel bar earlier in the evening. Sergeant Keeley, anxious as his pal, Mitchell (George Cooper) is considered the prime suspect, elects to do a little of his own quiet sleuthing to clear Mitchell’s name. To each investigator, the suspects come clean, relaying their versions of the night’s events through a series of flashbacks. Ironically, the first is told by the killer, Montgomery, who deflects suspicion from himself and onto Mitchell. We are also told the tale by Floyd Bowers (Steve Brodie), Mitchell, and Ginny Tremaine. Gradually, Finlay and Keeley piece together the fragmented truth. As Joe seemingly had no enemies and was not involved in any illegal or otherwise spurious dealings to get him killed, there can only be one motive for his murder. Thus, Finlay sets a trap to catch his killer.

At the soldiers' hotel, Finlay lies in wait for Mitchell. Only Keeley diverts the police and hurries Mitchell into hiding. He also informs his buddy, Montgomery, Bowers and another soldier, Leroy (William Phipps) about the earlier events of the evening. Montgomery insulted Leroy, while Samuels befriended Mitchell. The group then went to Samuel’s apartment to wait for his gal/pal. Alas, Montgomery began to argue with Samuels while Mitchell, badly hung-over, departed with taxi dancer, Ginny. Empathetic to his drunken condition, Ginny loaned Mitchell the use of her apartment to sleep it off, Mitchell departing her cramped flat after a confrontation with Ginny’s hubby/pimp. Having witnessed the murder, and also suffering from a guilty conscience, Bowers was stashed away by Montgomery. But Bowers became a loose end, and thus, was dispatched by Montgomery, who strangled him with a necktie. Meanwhile, Finlay – no fool – forced Keely to reveal to him Mitchell's whereabouts. Mitchell’s ever-devoted wife, Mary (Jacqueline White) accompanied Finlay, who next interrogated Ginny and her husband. Alas, they miserably failed to confirm Mitchell's alibi. Although Finlay suspected Montgomery as the real killer, he arrested Mitchell instead. In the present, Finlay and Keeley persuade Leroy to inform Montgomery Bowers is still alive and ready to blackmail him for some quick cash to get out of town. Montgomery hurries to Bowers’ apartment, not the address Finlay gave Leroy to give to him, thus proving Montgomery was there earlier, and, at the time of Samuels’ murder. Caught in his crime, Montgomery attempts a feeble escape, but is shot dead by Finlay.

Completed in only 24 days, with cinematographer, J. Roy Hunt expediting his lighting techniques, nevertheless to create an exquisitely photographed and moodily evocative noir thriller, Crossfire was a big hit for RKO, its 5 Oscar nods also lending it prestige. That it beat Gentlemen’s Agreement into theaters by nearly 4 months probably had something to do with its popularity, but also proved a moot distinction when the latter effort went on to eclipse it on Oscar night – winning 3 of its 8 nominations, while Crossfire failed to take home even a single statuette. The ‘snub’ was likely owed to both Edward Dmytryk and Adrian Scott, each, having given testimony before the House Un-American Activities Committee in the months preceding the annual awards ceremony, defiantly refusing to state one way or the other their allegiances – thereby branding them the first ‘two’ ‘subversives’ in the infamous Hollywood ‘Ten’ - tried and convicted of contempt of Congress as Communist sympathizers and subsequently blacklisted. Crossfire would be Dmytryk’s only nomination as Best Director. The Canadian-born Dmytryk who had once worked as a lowly messenger at Famous Players/Lasky for the mere pittance of $6 a week, progressing to film projectionist, then editor, before marking his directorial debut with 1935’s The Hawk – a B-grade western – had worked very hard to build his career. Now, it all seemed at an end. Fired from RKO, Dmytryk fled to England. Alas, when his passport expired, he was forced to return to the U.S. where he was promptly arrested. Agreeing to ‘name names’ after 4 ½ months in prison, Dmytryk’s career was back on top, directing Humphrey Bogart and Van Johnson in 1954’s The Caine Mutiny, adapted from Herman Wouk's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, and, the second highest grossing picture of the year.

For Dore Schary, Crossfire marked a successful debut as RKO’s head of production. The appointment was a shay premature and exceedingly short-lived as Schary would resign from the post just one year later due to artistic clashes with the studio’s new owner, Howard Hughes. Schary did not remain unemployed for very longing, moving into the front offices of MGM under the auspices of Loewe’s Inc. President, Nicholas Schenk, as Metro’s VP in Charge of Production, filling the post vacated by the death of Irving Thalberg some 11 years earlier. When Schenk determined to oust L.B. Mayer from his throne as president of MGM, he appointed Schary in the grand ole man’s stead – in hindsight, one of the worst cases of the wrong executive for the wrong studio – particularly, the only one with more stars than there ‘were’ in heaven. RKO, already a sinking ship in 1949, would founder into antiquity in 1957 – one year after Schary’s Reichstag-styled firing from Metro, leaving the studio utterly rudderless for nearly a decade before an almost peaceful corporate take-over from Vegas financier, Kirk Kerkorian in the early 70’s effectively transformed MGM into ‘a hotel company’ and a ‘relatively insignificant producer of motion pictures’ – a statement taken directly from Kerkorian’s press release after acquiring control of MGM’s voting stock. At least, RKO’s bludgeoning into the great beyond had been swift. In years yet to follow, Robert Ryan politely eschewed answering any questions regarding Crossfire, determined to put the role behind him as a footnote. Indeed, Ryan – in life – did everything he could to reassert his liberal progressive stance against bigotry and violence.

Crossfire arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive in a new 4K scan derived from restored original elements and, predictably, the work here yields an impressive B&W image with razor-sharp clarity and superbly nuanced contrast. Grain levels are in check and true to a film-like presentation. Contrast is ‘bang on’ perfect. Age-related artifacts are gone. The 1.0 DTS is excellent with no hiss or pop.  WAC knows how to do excellent work and proves it yet again with a fantastic looking disc that easily bests its tired old DVD release from 2001. Ported over from the old DVD, an audio commentary from historians, Alain Silver and James Ursini, interpolated with outtakes of Edward Dmytryk. We also get the featurette, ‘Hate is Like a Gun’ that provides a nice overview.  Bottom line: Crossfire is a disturbing, tough and tumble powerhouse – a social commentary wrapped inside the enigma of a very bleak noir thriller. Very high ‘top marks’ to Dmytryk for making it, Ryan for playing it, and, WAC for releasing it in this sparkling new-to-Blu. Bravo, one and all!

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

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

5

EXTRAS

1