Nightfall (1957) - 8/10. Aldo Ray is on the run from the cops (they think he bumped off his camping buddy), but there are also a couple of goons (Brian Keith and a sadistic Rudy Bond) who want to get to him first and ask the question: what happened to the missing $350,000? Enter Anne Bancroft as a faux femme fatale and a pre-Barney Miller James Gregory as a sympathetic insurance investigator. Add stunning b&w widescreen photography of LA and Wyoming (courtesy of Burnett Guffey), and impeccable direction by Jacques Tourneur, and you get a 78 minute cheapie that's better than most A pictures of the period. Tourneur adds further interest by building in a tripartite flashback structure, and establishes synchronicity between the hero and the insurance investigator through the use of some very inventive match cuts.
Armored Car Robbery (1950) - 7/10. Dave Purvus (William Talman) had the perfect heist figured . . . until it all went terribly wrong. Richard Fleischer directed this tight 68 minute police procedural. Its chief virtue lies in watching Talman improvise his way out of a number of corners, but Charles McGraw's dogged police detective provides some moments of fun as well. Too bad the ending is so pedestrian.
City of Fear (1959) - 7/10. An escaped con (Vince Edwards) is loose on the streets of LA with a canister of what he thinks is heroin but which in fact contains "Cobalt 60." This follow-up to Murder By Contract is Irving Lerner's Panic in the Streets, but with a nuclear angle. Great widescreen b&w photography provided by Lucien Ballard, and an impressive score from Jerry Goldsmith. The plot is little more than the premise followed to its logical conclusion, but it's entertaining enough.
The writers were surely hoping to achieve the word-of-mouth buzz enjoyed by Henry Hathaway's Kiss of Death, with its controversial scene in which Richard Widmark pushes an old lady in a wheelchair down a flight of stairs. Appointment with Danger tries to top that brutality by having the dominant hit man Regas (Jack Webb) beat his submissive partner Soderquist (Harry Morgan) to death with Soderquist's own baby's bronzed booties.
New York Confidential (1955) - 7/10. Richard Conte is a stone cold killer working for Broderick Crawford in the NY branch of "the Syndicate." Early on the rules are established: the Syndicate always comes first, and individuals who in any way threaten its existence (or are perceived to threaten it) are eliminated. This dictum is rigorously enforced, so that by the end of the film all the players have changed but the Organization keeps chugging along. The virtue of this approach is that the film maintains a hard edge throughout, with nary a hint of sentimentality. However, it also means there are few surprises. By way of compensation we do get some fun performances: Conte is pitiless, and Crawford should have won an award for his scenery chewing. And then there's Anne Bancroft, playing the boss's daughter who wants only to get out from under, who had, in her day, the loveliest bones in the industry.
Hayward: How can you love a boy you've just met?Lukas: How can a casual passing stranger change your entire life? You'd be amazed. My wife I met and loved in a minute. In a dentist's office. With all the vitamins, too. I love her to this day . . . although it's 16 years since she's been gone.Hayward: No children?Lukas: A girl. She's married now. Last year I put her husband in a dry-cleaning establishment. I had some savings. I'd die for that girl.Hayward: Does she remember her mother?Lukas: My daughter? Oh, very well. She even remembers the man.Hayward: What man?Lukas: The man my wife ran off with. You won't believe it, the first six years, I shaved every night before I went to bed. I thought she might come back.
Made in the stark "film noir" style that was popular for crime dramas in the forties and fifties, "The Locket" deals with a similar theme to Alfred Hitchcock's "Marnie", that of a beautiful but psychologically disturbed young woman whose disturbance manifests itself as kleptomania, an uncontrollable impulse to steal. The main character, Nancy Monks, is a working-class girl who as a child was wrongly accused by her mother's wealthy employer of stealing a valuable locket and harshly beaten. The memory of this injustice has scarred Nancy ever since, and in adult life she tries to revenge herself on the world by stealing jewelery. Her compulsion to steal wrecks first her relationship with Norman Clyde, a young artist, and then her marriage to Harry Blair, a psychiatrist. Nancy's crimes may, indeed, go beyond mere theft; there is a suggestion that she may have committed a murder in the course of one robbery, a murder for which an innocent man suffers the death penalty.Much of the comment on this film has centred on its unusually baroque structure, complex even by today's standards and even more so by those of the forties. It has been described as a "flashback within a flashback within a flashback". (The main action takes place on the morning of Nancy's second wedding. The story of her marriage to Blair is told in the first flashback, which contains a second flashback telling Clyde's story as told to Blair, which in turn contains a flashback narrating the story of her childhood). Despite this intricate construction, however, the plot line is never difficult to follow.The film's links to Hitchcock's works go beyond a thematic resemblance to "Marnie". The set used for the house of Nancy's mother's employer is the same one used for the house of Alex Sebastian in "Notorious"; in both cases it serves to suggest opulent wealth combined with coldness. More importantly, the film-makers clearly shared the fascination with psychology that was obvious in such Hitchcock films as "Spellbound" or "Psycho". Such a fascination, particularly with the theories of Freud, was, in fact, quite common in the cinema around this period, although these theories were often somewhat bowdlerised. The censors were clearly uncomfortable with Freud's insistence on the particular importance of sexual experiences in influencing the human psyche. (I was interested to read the comments of the reviewer who pointed out the use of the locket of the title as a symbol of repressed memory).Despite these thematic links it is not really accurate to describe the film as "minor league Hitchcock" as one reviewer did. I have not seen any of John Brahm's other films, but "The Locket" is the work of a major-league player. It is not a suspense film in the normal Hitchcock style but rather a melodrama. Brahm is able to get good performances out of his actors, particularly from Robert Mitchum as Clyde and Laraine Day, an actress with whom I was not previously familiar, as Nancy. The melodramatic style requires a non-naturalistic heightening of emotion; in some films this might have come across as over-acting, but here it is quite deliberate, done for increased dramatic effect and in line with the dark, neo-Gothic tone of the film. This is not a well-known film today, but I was lucky enough to catch it when it was recently shown on British television, and was not disappointed.