ALIAS NICK BEAL: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1949) Kino Lorber
Master noir director, John Farrow gives the devil his
due in Alias Nick Beal (1949) – a rather darkly disturbed re-imagining
of the Faustian tale of temptation, but ultimate redemption of a man’s nearly
lost soul. Although Ray Milland is top-billed, and is, in fact, the titular Mr.
Beal – the devil’s disciple, come to collect on the desires of an honest man,
the real ‘star turn’ here is owed supporting player, Thomas Mitchell who, as
Joseph Foster, the latest client with aspirations to hold a higher office than
the one he presently occupies, makes the legendary and critical misfire of all
ye of truly pure heart – stepping into a bear trap of forces beyond his
understanding or control, still believing he can manipulate the variables in
his favor. The picture is also noteworthy for Audrey Totter’s performance as
Donna Allen – a cheap tart, made over by Beal as potential play-thing for Foster.
Problem for the devil: Foster isn’t playing into this sex snare. Another
problem: neither is Allen. It’s refreshing, in fact, to see Totter – usually
typecast as the proverbial ‘femme fatale’ – herein desperately resisting the
urge to help Beal topple a good man. Indeed, she denies Beal’s sway at the
outset, and later, outright defies his scheming to have her play the part of
Foster’s seductress, luring him away from his strait-laced wife, Martha (portrayed
with ample virtue, vim and determination by the spectacularly underrated
Geraldine Wall). The picture is also
stocked to the rafters with familiar supporting players in the noir movement;
George Macready, against type as the noble and inquisitive Rev. Thomas Garfield,
Fred Clark - morally bankrupt, Frankie Faulkner, Henry O’Neill (dutiful Judge
Hobson), Nestor Paiva (as curmudgeonly bar man, Karl) and Darryl Hickman (as delinquent
youth, Larry Price).
It was quite a year for Ray Milland who, born Alfred
Reginald Jones, took his ‘stage’ name from the street where he lived before
becoming one of Paramount Picture’s most bankable stars. Or was Milland a riff on ‘Mullane’ – his
stepfather’s surname? Milland was also billed as ‘Spike Milland’ and ‘Raymond
Milland’ in two early forays into the picture-making biz in Britain. Oh well,
by the time he arrived on American soil in 1934 he was known as Ray Milland…and
it stuck, quickly snatched up by Paramount talent scouts for his undeniable
good looks and congenial nature. For a time, this suited him. But by 1949, the
looks had already begun to slip away, replaced by that softish middle-aged
thing with the ever-so-slightly bulging eyes. He was a freelancer, age 42 in ’49, his
contact with Paramount expired the year before. And, having walked away from that
squeaky-clean male ingenue persona the studio rather desperately tried to hermetically
seal, only to be broken wide open by his turn as the reckless alcoholic in
Billy Wilder’s Oscar-winning The Lost Weekend (1945), Milland now added
yet another layer of scintillating uncertainty to his actor’s artistry as the
eponymic Mr. Beal – a delectably nasty avatar. As for Audrey Totter; she began
her career as a disembodied voice on the radio in various soap opera dramas
before signing a 7-year movie contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1945. It became
clear her strength was in playing wicked women – a particular brand of
femininity for which MGM possessed virtually no stomach. And so, the loan outs
began, followed by a change of venue, first to Columbia, then 2oth Century-Fox.
Totter, it seems, came to the party too late, the fifties’ yen in grand
spectacles virtually wiping out the seedy little noir drama overnight. She
retreated to TV, then considered the industry’s red-headed stepchild. And
although the small screen kept her active for decades thereafter, the meaty
roles were few and far between. Just shy of her 96th birthday,
Totter died of a stroke, remembered largely today as a beloved footnote in the
annals of film noir.
But again, the kudos here are owed character actor,
Thomas Mitchell who, undeniably, appeared in some of the most high-profile
classics of all-time, including his breakthrough role in Frank Capra’s 1937
masterpiece - Lost Horizon, and, John Ford’s The Hurricane, 1939’s
Stagecoach (for which he won a Best Supporting Actor Oscar as the
alcoholic, Doc Boone), Only Angels Have Wings, Mr. Smith Goes to
Washington, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and, Selznick’s opus magnum
- Gone with the Wind, 1940’s Angels Over Broadway, Our Town,
and, The Long Voyage Home, 1942’s The Black Swan, Darryl Zanuck’s
1944 Technicolor titan biopic, Wilson, and, The Keys of the Kingdom,
Capra’s Christmas perennial, 1946’s It’s A Wonderful Life, and Fred Zinneman’s 1952 sobering western, High
Noon. Forty-three of his fifty-nine movies
were actually made within a prolific 10-yr. period between 1936-46. And these are but Mitchell’s career highlights!
Born to Irish immigrants in New Jersey, Mitchell was bitten by the acting bug in
his early teens, touring with Charles Coburn's Shakespeare Company in 1913
while authoring several plays, including Little Accident, made into a
movie in 1930, and remade twice thereafter. When movie work dried up in the
early fifties, Mitchell segued into television, reinventing himself yet again
as an entrenched and indispensable part of small screen programming, appearing
in anthologies as well as his own series, Glencannon (1959), lasting 39-episodes.
Most today will have forgotten that Mitchell also originated the role of Det.
Columbo on the stage in 1960 – his last performance – a character later to be
made immortal by Peter Falk on television. When Thomas Mitchell died of peritoneal
mesothelioma 2-yrs. later at the age of 70, he was revered. Today, he still
holds a solid spot as one of Hollywood’s most enduring and endearing character
players. In Alias Nick Beal, Mitchell lends what could otherwise have been
a dull milquetoast with blind-sided ambitions, an air of fallen, bittersweet dignity.
After storm-cloud-filled main titles, underscored by
Franz Waxman, Alias Nick Beal wastes no time introducing us to ambitious
District Attorney, Joseph Foster – an honest man, gunning for an underworld crook
– Hanson – whom we never meet but are told is too slick to be caught. At
present, Foster is loosely entertaining slimy Frankie Faulkner who has his own
ambitions for the as the puppet master behind the throne, as well as Foster’s
devoted friend, Rev. Garfield who, along with the reform counsel, implores
Foster to reconsider running for political office. At the same time, Foster
takes an interest in a wayward youth, Larry Price who, at first, is too tough
to partake of Foster’s benevolent ‘boys club’. Larry, however, steadily matures
in his respect for Foster’s never-waning virtue. This seems to have transformed his
life into a purposeful one. If only Foster could have acquired the doctored
ledgers to prove Hanson’s guilt. Yet these, presumably, were destroyed by Hanson’s
dutiful bookkeeper. Nevertheless, Foster is lured by an anonymous phone call to
the seedy China Coast Café – a waterfront dive where he is introduced to Nick
Beal. Mr. Beal is, apparently, a concerned citizen, taking Foster to a
construction shack on the wharf where Foster is led to discover the cooked
accounts he has been searching for, strangely intact and awaiting his
confiscation. Obtained illegally, the evidence is nevertheless enough to
convict Hanson.
Now, poised to become governor, Foster is revisited by
the shadowy Mr. Beal, goaded into a bribe for his services already rendered.
Foster’s wife, Martha cautions against it. But Foster knows Beal could spill
everything about his illegally obtained search, not only to reverse Hanson’s
conviction but also derail his own chances for political office. So, Foster
pays. Not long thereafter, he meets Hanson’s former bookkeeper, Henry T. Finch
(Douglas Spencer), now a wanted man. Finch informs Foster he knows he burned
the original ledgers. He therefore hints that those Foster used at trial were
forgeries. From this moment on, all of Foster’s precious victories will be shallow
as Mr. Beal continues to tighten the yoke, guiding Foster into the political career
he does not actually want. Beal hires the prostitute, Donna Allen (Audrey Totter),
re-making her as an elegant clothes horse - just the sort to successfully lure
Foster away from his wife. Except Allen, although going along with Beal’s plan
at first, increasingly proves she possesses a spine, also unexpected empathy
for Beal and against his manipulation by Beal. Martha too begins to stand her
ground against her husband’s ever-increasing reliance on Mr. Beal’s powers of
persuasion as he draws nearer the governor’s seat. Alas, Foster naively
believes once he has been elected, he will be able to shore himself of Nick
Beal’s influences. And thus, Beal remains close at hand throughout the election
process. Foster’s slavish devotion to Beal, more than anything else, drives a
wedge in his marriage. Soon, Foster and Martha are estranged. Donna Allen,
however, has already decided to leave town without fulfilling her commitments
to Beal. Meanwhile, Rev. Garfield becomes convinced Beal is the modern-age
reincarnation of the devil, come to claim yet another soul on earth.
Unable to convince Foster of as much, Garfield and
Martha band together to fight Beal on their terms. To ensure his security as a
part of Foster’s inner counsel, Beal gets Foster to sign a binding contract, in
effect, trading his soul for his career under penalty of death should he renege
on the deal. When Foster wins the governorship, Beal presses him to institute certain
measures that will surely place him in charge of the political process.
Instead, Foster – having finally come to his senses – defies Beal by confessing
to members of the press his lack of God-given guidance and conscience necessary
to faithfully discharge his duties in the office, thereby momentarily derailing
Beal’s plans to rule behind the throne, although Beal confides this is merely
temporary, as he will find weaker prey on whose greed he can fester and feed. Beal reminds Foster of their contract, the
stipulation forcing Foster to give up his soul to Beal at the stroke of
midnight. Believing he is powerless to prevent the inevitable, Foster
accompanies Beal back to the fog-laden waterfront where his descend into purgatory
will be made complete. Mercifully, Larry has witnessed Beal ushering Foster
away. Martha and Rev. Garfield pursue them to the wharf where Garfield
confronts the devil with the truth. Beal produces the contract Foster signed.
But Garfield now places his Bible upon it, thereupon denying Beal access to it.
Unable to retrieve the document, Beal concedes defeat, but promises to return
someday soon to begin the process all over again by corrupting another
seemingly ‘innocent’ man, before vanishing into the dense night fog.
Some 72-years later, Alias Nick Beal remains a
daring ‘then’ contemporary take on the classic Faustian tale of soul-stealing
succession. Ray Milland’s performance as the sly and abiding devil incarnate is
a masterpiece of downplaying. About all Milland ever does to imply a fate worse
than death for dear Mr. Foster is raise an eyebrow, with cinematographer, Lionel
Landon’s chiaroscuro lighting perfectly pitched to catch a restless and
disturbing glint in Milland’s tainted and presuming glances. We doff our caps
to John Farrow’s spookily paced direction – methodically built from relatively
unassuming ‘cute meets’ into intentionally ominous coincidences too terrifying
to dismiss. Wisely, Farrow forgoes the urge to make this devil appear or
disappear in a puff of smoke, ball of flame, or some other such nonsensical
special effect Hollywood’s menage is prone to extort. Instead, Milland seems to
suddenly materialize, from out of the fog, or merely, to come into focus against
a background no one is paying attention to at first; basic spook-inducing
chills, but jarring, and ghoulishly good nonetheless, though especially when harmonized
with Milland’s cruel and calculatingly glacial prurience. Scripted by Farrow fav, Jonathan Latimer
(adapted from a tale by Mindret Lord), Alias Nick Beal hails from a
particular epoch in post-war forties’ darkly purposed fantasy, narrowly to avoid
the unhappy fate of fates at the end. Franz Waxman’s score is a bit too ‘on the
nose’ for contemporary tastes, punctuating with a harsh explosion of sound. But
otherwise, Alias Nick Beal is a deliciously perverse entertainment with
a good solid, though none-too-preachy morality tale at its core.
Kino Lorber’s Blu-ray is another instance of Universal
Home Video’s inability to ‘poo or get off the pot’ when it comes to mastering
deep catalog inherited from Paramount via MCA long ago. If original elements do
exist for this grand fantasy, they have not been utilized for this 1080p
remaster. And while Alias Nick Beal occasionally represents a middling
effort at best, most of what is here falls well below expectations for good ‘quality’
video mastering. Contrast is anemic at best. The image is unintentionally soft,
especially around the edges. Speaking of edges: their artificial effects are
persistent throughout. Ditto for gate weave and overall image instability. The
scenes taking place under the cover of fog are an indistinguishable sea of
black crush with intermittent age-related artifacts and speckling come to
intrude. Any way you slice it, this is a fairly disappointing effort on Uni’s
part. The 1.0 DTS audio is actually quite good, and better than the image,
showing no signs of hiss or pop, although dialogue can occasionally sound slightly
muffled. The only extra is an audio commentary from noir historian, Eddie Muller
who begins by reminding us he came out of ‘retirement’ to partake. Mr. Muller’s
best work is decidedly behind him, as he waffles through a fairly dull and
opinion-riddled commentary with few facts peppered between the hyperbole and
ennui otherwise afflicting his words. There are also theatrical trailers for
this and other like-minded product Kino is peddling. Bottom line: Alias Nick
Beal is a fine film given a below-average image harvest. Uni ought to be
ashamed of this. They have a gemstone but have paid it little to zero attention
that it deserves. Recommended for content. Expect nothing from the actual mastering
effort and you will be pleasantly surprised.
FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the
best)
4
VIDEO/AUDIO
2.5
EXTRAS
1
Comments
The only reason we have classic releases today is because, for a brief wrinkle in the mid-70's to early 80's, there was a persistent flourish of old-time entertainment being pumped into the UHF networks to fill empty programming hours, usually on a Saturday afternoon, Sunday morning, or after the late night news - you know, the dead zone hours for TV broadcasting. What that did was create a nostalgia for the past which then lingered on in the hearts and minds of those, mostly with insomnia who stayed up to watch this stuff. Hence, when the home video Betamax/VHS craze kicked in, the licensing of old catalog began - cautiously at first, then, without getting into the total mechanics of it, the flood gates were thrown open and a ton of deep catalog started finding its way into our 'collectible' archives.
But Hollywood still had zero interest - apart from the profits that could be derived from such re-marketing - in 'restoration and preservation' - two very different things, by the way. So, movies were merely slapped to disc in whatever condition they presently existed. There was no concerted effort to archive 'original' elements and without the digital age, only photo-chemical remastering was possible. All that has past, now. The digital age has made it possible to preserve and restore many - if not all - movies to the nth degree, provided there are still good elements to crib from.
In the case of Alias Nick Beal, and virtually all the rest of Paramount's pre-1950's catalog, the situation is further exacerbated by the fact that, through Paramount's own short-sightedness, virtually all of their interests in their own history were sold off to MCA in the late-50's for some quick cash. So, Paramount - not the most progressive or forward-thinking of studios, surrendered rights to MCA, which then swallowed Universal whole, hence, the Paramount releases coming out of Uni these days. Universal, alas, doesn't have much interest in deep catalog either, and certainly, rarely in catalog it did not actually produce themselves. They market the Paramount stuff as a necessary evil. It makes money for them as it presently exists. So, their attitude is "if it ain't broke, don't fix it!"
Every once in a long while they make an exception to this rule: like Paramount's Holiday Inn, or Double Indemnity, or The Lost Weekend - titles they are certain are 'worth' their time and effort - and most important of all - 'money' in which profits are practically guaranteed. But otherwise, the level of interest in actually seeking out quality materials and performing all of the necessary 'heavy lifting' to get such titles up to snuff is virtually ignored. On rare occasions, no surviving elements are up to snuff. But actually, that's more the exception, not the rule. Uni just has zero interest here. It won't change unless there's a shake-up in management. But take heed. The regime that comes in after could be just as bad or even worse. What does that say about the future of restoring classics on home video? I shudder to think.