ACT OF VIOLENCE: Blu-ray (MGM, 1949) Warner Archive

If ever a movie proved there are consequences to actions, it is director, Fred Zinnemann’s Act of Violence (1949) – to pit bug-eyed Van Heflin, whose métier was fast to morph from contentious leading man into playing characters of grave indecision, against noir’s king of the baddies, Robert Ryan. Act of Violence is an uneasy picture to watch, chiefly because of Ryan’s riveting turn as Joe Parkson – a WWII POW survivor directly impacted by the cowardice of fellow prisoner, Frank Enley (Heflin’s alter ego). Ryan’s cruel and unrelenting screen presence – not only in this movie – was in direct odds with his pacificist’s beliefs as a man. Ryan’s intellectual pursuits and congenial nature far surpassed the brute force thuggish-ness he was repeatedly ask to trademark in the movies. Part of the appeal of Ryan’s wicked screen gems is that, at their core, is a sense of a genuinely wounded man resorting to his more primal state. Lent a modicum of empathy, Ryan’s ugly humans might just as easily have swung to the side of righteousness instead to embrace devilry as a means to bitter ends.

Act of Violence is an odd duck to have been made at MGM, chiefly as its depiction of the film’s two ‘leading men’ – the cowardly and fear-filled Frank, and ruthless and maniacal Joe – fly in the face of studio chief, Louis B. Mayer’s all-encompassing directive: that all men should be handsome, noble and virtuous. Alas, Mayer, by 1949, was fast coming to his end as the overseer of the world’s most successful dream factory. Having much earlier made an enemy of East Coast boss, Nicholas Schenk, and chronically clashing with Dore Schary, the new VP to have replaced the more malleable Irving G. Thalberg, whom some argue Mayer helped put in his grave, Mayer had now become the pinata of choice. While Schary’s interests at MGM were askew of the studio’s time-honored mantra “do it big, do it well and give it class” (Schary preferred intimate, grittier tales of woe to the opulent escapism Mayer thoroughly worshipped), by 1949 Mayer’s way of doing business was hampering MGM’s ability to remain the king of features. So, Act of Violence became one of the projects to solidify Schary’s ‘updating’ the studio’s image to fall more in line with the new order of the day. Whether or not this would have benefited MGM in the long run, had Schary stayed the course, is open for discussion. For certain, at present, it created a frustrated friction in the front offices.

Scripted by Robert L. Richards, Act of Violence moves swiftly through 82-mins. We meet our two leads almost simultaneously. In the years since the war, former POW, Frank R. Enley has remade his image as an upstanding citizen, and, together with wife, Edith (Janet Leigh), has committed to ‘good works’ in Santa Lisa, the California hamlet Frank and his young family call home. What Edith does not know is her husband’s entire persona is built upon a horrific lie.  While imprisoned by the Nazis, Frank learned of a daring escape plan by his fellow prisoners and, in a moment of weakness, shared this information with the camp commander under the promise he would ‘go easy’ on the intended escapees. Instead, the prisoners, including Joe Parkson, were bayonetted and left to die. Miraculously, Joe survived, but was permanently crippled in his left leg.

Joe is now determined to exact his pound of flesh in the name of justice. Learning of Frank’s whereabouts from a local newspaper, Joe embarks upon a nasty game of cat and mouse. Even Joe’s gal/pal, Ann Sturgess (Phyllis Thaxter) cannot dissuade him from exacting this revenge. Joe’s first attempt to derail Frank’s happiness comes when he confronts Edith with the truth about her husband’s past. Alas, Edith is stirred to tail her husband to a convention in Los Angeles to hear his side of the story. Confessing the truth, Frank and Edith momentarily part in bitter tears. Meanwhile, Joe has also arrived in L.A. Fleeing his nemesis, Frank winds up in the low rent district where he is picked up by a woman, Pat (Mary Astor) who suggests her buddy, ‘fixer’ Gavery (Taylor Holmes) can make all of Frank’s troubles disappear by hiring a killer named Johnny (Berry Kroeger)…for a modest fee. And although Frank momentarily agrees to the terms, he later regrets having consorted in such a shady deal. Hurrying home to plead with Edith for forgiveness, Frank rushes to the prearranged spot where Johnny intends to murder Joe, putting himself in harm’s way to spare Joe’s life. Taking a bullet for Joe, Frank then causes Johnny’s getaway car to careen into a lamppost, killing Johnny instantly. As Frank lays dying, Joe kneels down to forgive him. He will be the one to tell Edith of her husband’s noble sacrifice.

Act of Violence is a powerhouse noir thriller. But it really is a movie uncharacteristic of MGM’s in-house style under Mayer. And, in an era where people went to movies on a pre-sold guarantee of the type of entertainments they were likely to know from a certain studio, Act of Violence lost money on MGM’s ledgers as the battle between Mayer and Schary was reaching its apex. Within the year, Mayer would be ousted from the kingdom he had hand-crafted from sheer nothingness, leaving Schary to briefly revel in more like-minded fair that continued to struggle to find its audience at the box office. The 1950’s at MGM would bear out the awkwardness of Schary’s sole control over Mayer’s top-heavy empire. Mayer, along with the late Irving Thalberg, had built MGM into Hollywood’s premiere production house on a decided note of opulence and sophistication. Mayer appreciated Thalberg’s contributions. However, upon Thalberg’s untimely passing in 1936, Mayer made the executive decision to aim the studio’s ambitions at cultivating a roster of much younger, more malleable talent he could command at will. Mayer’s edicts never changed. And thus, the mainstreaming of MGM’s product throughout the 1940’s kept the studio in the black during the war years. But at war’s end, there was a decided downturn in both profits and critical notoriety. Schenck forced Mayer into hiring Schary as his Vice President in Charge of Production, the post previously held by Thalberg, but which Mayer had assumed as the undisputed monarch of this land of make-believe.

Act of Violence is far outside MGM’s trademarked ‘in-house’ glamor. In content, it very much apes the sort of quick-n-dirty B-pictures Schary had put into production while overseeing the output at RKO. Yet, stylistically, the movie leans toward the daring of 2oth Century-Fox’s docu-dramas, shooting on location, while relying as little as possible on backlots and soundstage sets that had once managed a magical and escapist netherworld, farthest removed from any sort of aspiring realism. Despite MGM’s efforts to transform Van Heflin into a leading man, in pictures like Seven Sweethearts and Tennessee Johnson (both released in 1942), Heflin’s best work was done in ensemble movies where he inevitably played the more anemic male influence.  On loan from RKO, along with Robert Ryan, Heflin is an odd choice to be paired with doe-eyed MGM starlet, Janet Leigh – then, very much in the ‘swooning/cooing’ phase of her career. Quite simply, Heflin and Leigh are not believable as a couple. And neither are Ryan and his love interest, Phyllis Thaxter – whose placidity was always better suited to amiable hunks like fresh-faced Van Johnson.  Director, Fred Zinnemann makes the most of Robert L. Richards’ screenplay and moves swiftly through 82-minutes of tautly suspenseful ugliness. In the end, however, it is the real disconnect, seeing MGM’s Leo the Lion roar ahead of a movie that turns on a starkly bitter game of character assassination, death and despair. This is not the MGM that many, in the day, had grown up to revere, nor, in reality, ever expected to see on their movie screens. And as Schary took over the reigns from Mayer in 1950, the studio continued to have two camps of artistic merit; one endeavoring to retain the old art for art’s sake modus operandi, the other desperately reaching to achieve, reality for its own sake.

Act of Violence arrives on Blu-ray via the Warner Archive (WAC). Predictably, it’s a quality affair, taking full advantage of Robert Surtees’ starkly contrasted B&W cinematography and showing everything off to its very best advantage. Contrast is uniformly excellent. Film grain appears indigenous to its source. Blacks are velvety and deep. Fine details abound. Nothing to complain about here, folks. Nothing at all. The 2.0 DTS mono is solid with remarkable bombast given to Bronislau Kaper’s score. Extras have been ported over from the old DVD and include a commentary by Dr. Drew Casper, two classic cartoons and a very brief featurette on the making of the movie, produced for the DVD release from 2007. Bottom line: Act of Violence is a tightly wrought, and expertly played little thriller. It doesn’t adhere to MGM’s picture-making legacy, but emerges nonetheless as its own creation, thanks to Zinnemann’s assured direction and a bone-chilling performance by Robert Ryan as the obsessed baddie. The Blu-ray is excellent. Very highly recommended!

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

3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

4.5

EXTRAS

2