Four Little-Known Noirs Deserve Another Look

Humphrey Bogart

"Film noir" is a term coined by film critics to describe what was once simply known as "melodrama." The stories, characters, and attitudes of these types of movies can be traced to crime fiction that became popular during the Great Depression, but it wasn’t until the early 1940s that the visual indicators of film noir really took root in Hollywood films.

Over time, critics, new filmmakers, and eventually film fans and general audiences accepted the term “film noir” to encompass a particular style: Shadowy black-and-white photography, cynical characters living on the fringe of society who become enmeshed in a mysterious, dangerous situation, and a general sense of foreboding.

These movies involve private detectives and cops, criminals and lawyers, gangsters and drifters, boxers and other wise guys, nightclub singers and dames in distress, and both rich and poor behaving badly. The ‘hero’ of the picture is usually an ambivalent man, sometimes duped by a duplicitous woman, sometimes saved by a virtuous one. First-person narration is often typical of these melodramas, as a window into the protagonist’s thoughts. There’s a particular cadence and rhythm to film noir.

There are several legendary movies in this genre that you still hear about these days, classics like “The Maltese Falcon” and “The Big Sleep,” both starring Humphrey Bogart, who has become the genre’s filmic representative. But I want to focus on a few—without Bogart and without much current fame—that I believe deserve more attention.

Nocturne (1946)
Up until this past year, I had not even heard of “Nocturne,” so it was a surprise to me. In an opening scene that had me hooked, smarmy, arrogant Hollywood movie composer Keith Vincent is tickling the keys of his piano. On the wall to the right of his piano is a row of photographs of glamorous ladies. He’s speaking in a very condescending manner to an unseen woman, giving her the brush-off. When he returns to his keyboard, a shot rings out, and Vincent slumps over dead.

About the plot
From the looks of it, the police think it was a suicide. But detective lieutenant Joe Warne (played by George Raft) suspects murder. We learn right away that Joe is a bit of a loose cannon; his interest in the case and his manner of investigation is frowned upon by his bosses on the force. But motivated by his stubbornness, he begins interviewing some of the women whose picture hung on the dead composer’s wall, finding that a number of them had their reasons for wanting him dead.

Lynn Bari

In his investigation, Joe meets a bit movie actress by the name of Frances Ransom (played by Lynn Bari). Frances dated Keith Vincent in the past, and her disdain for the man makes her a suspect. Despite her dismissiveness toward Joe, there are sparks between them. Meanwhile, Frances’s sister, a nightclub singer named Carol (played by Virginia Huston), also gets caught up in the investigation. Joe’s violent outbursts at inopportune moments causes him to get suspended from the force, but he continues his investigation, which eventually brings him to the studio of the unctuous photographer who took the women’s portraits.

There is a terrific sequence within the studio where Joe discovers the photographer. Let’s just say he’s not developing photos. This is 40s noir, so we see just his silhouette swinging slowly left to right, with the only sound the creaking of a rope and the wind whistling outside an ominously open door.

About the actors
George Raft was my grandmother’s favorite actor, but he’s not one of mine. His acting could usually best be described as wooden. Now, while a Bogart could play a hard-boiled character but do it with pathos when called for, a crime melodrama like “Nocturne” doesn’t necessarily require a lot of shading, at least not from its actors. That’s why Raft’s stone-faced performance seems to work here. His Joe Warne is a single-minded, hardboiled character not given to demonstrations of emotion. Plain and simple.

George Raft

Lynn Bari is not a name that’s heard much today, if at all, which is a shame. She was a B-list actress who made a lot of routine, forgettable pictures, and a few good ones in a fairly long career. Like many actresses of her generation, she was capable of comedy and drama, and she’s quite compelling and believable as Frances, a woman who’s had her fair share of hard knocks.

About the look and feel
The thing I love best about black-and-white movies of the forties is the way they look, and somehow this sort of melodrama evokes it best. The film creates a specific mood as it moves from one setting to another: Keith Vincent’s sleek apartment; smoke- and music-filled nightclubs; the photographer’s modern studio; Joe’s cozy home (where he lives with his doting mother); Frances’s modest but fashionably appointed apartment; and the more low-rent boardinghouse where her sister, the struggling singer, lives.

Whatever their trappings, the film illustrates that these would-be actresses, nightclub singers, photographers, composers, and musicians are living in a seedier flip-side to what we think of the glamour of Hollywood.

Speaking of place, Lynn Bari’s best scene occurs when she is questioned by Joe at an outdoor swimming pool. Fetching in an iconic 40s swimsuit, she has some snazzy dialogue in a heated stand-off. She also figures prominently in a pivotal scene that was filmed on the set of the movie “Sinbad, the Sailor” that was actually filming on the RKO Studios lot. It’s fun to get a behind-the-scenes look at a real RKO production in the works.

My assessment
Film noir provides a window on a vanished underbelly of American society, and “Nocturne” captures its time, place, and people with subtle punch.

The film was scripted by Jonathan Latimer, and produced by Joan Harrison, who wrote five screenplays for Alfred Hitchcock and produced his television programs in the early '60s. Latimer also wrote the screenplay for our next film, “They Won’t Believe Me,” which Harrison produced as well. (They obviously knew their niche.)

They Won’t Believe Me (1947)

Life magazine ad

Audiences of a certain age who don’t know much about Robert Young’s film career may know him from the 1950s sitcom “Father Knows Best,” the 1970s medical drama “Marcus Welby, M.D.,” or from Sanka coffee commercials in the early '80s.

Throughout his film career, he often portrayed a playboy, a light comic leading man, or romantic counterpart to a popular leading lady before becoming America’s favorite dad. Not often called upon for a heavy dramatic role, he is an unusual choice to portray Larry Ballentine, who is a grade-A heel.

About the plot
The film opens up in a courtroom. It’s a murder trial. The prosecution rests, and Ballentine takes the stand and begins to recount his story in flashback.

Ballentine’s wife is the wealthy Greta, whom he married for money. He meets the dazzling Janice Bell. They begin a relationship that seems to takes place mostly in quiet restaurants or bars in the middle of the day. They fall in love, or as close to love as Larry can get. Eventually Janice realizes she can’t come between Larry and his wife, so she breaks off the relationship and moves to Quebec for a new job.

In the meantime, the seemingly clueless Greta learns about the affair when Larry arranges to take a business trip to Quebec. Greta tries to woo Larry back by buying him a ranch and getting him a partnership in a Los Angeles-based brokerage firm. He takes it and cancels the trip. (Remember, he’s shallow.)

Larry isn’t particularly attentive to his job at the brokerage, and that gets him in trouble with his boss, Trenton. His attention instead veers toward Verna Carlson, a pretty employee who helps him out of a jam. Verna isn’t as demure as Janice was, so she’s more than happy to be seen with the wealthy Larry at a variety of fashionable nightclubs.

Before you know it, Larry is asking Greta for a divorce, wiping out his checking account, and writing a fat check for $25,000 to Verna. He and Verna meet up one night to drive together to Reno. Unfortunately, their travel plans are interrupted when their car is hit by an oncoming truck; Verna is killed, Larry is badly hurt. And the cops think that Verna was Greta.


Susan Hayward

With Verna mistaken for Greta, Larry realizes he can now kill Greta and be rid of her. But his plan is foiled when he returns to the ranch and finds her at the bottom of a cliff near a river, a suicide. Larry climbs down the cliffside and tosses Greta into the river.

With two dead women on his conscience, Larry flees the country and ends up in Jamaica. While there, he runs into Janice, and they travel together back to Los Angeles. Janice has been secretly working with Trenton to investigate the mysterious disappearance of Verna, and tells Larry’s story. The police are summoned, the ranch is searched, and Greta’s body is found. But the cops think it’s the missing Verna. Larry is arrested and thrown in jail for her murder.

Flash back to the courtroom, and the jury is about to reach their verdict. This guy is a heel, he had at least two affairs behind his wife’s back, but is he responsible for either of the two deaths? When Larry is done with his story, will they believe him?

You’ll have to watch for yourself to find out.

About the actors
Robert Young was rarely given a chance to portray an unsympathetic character. He doesn’t have the toughness of, say, George Raft, Humphrey Bogart, or John Garfield (featured in our next film in this post). But that may be why it works here. He’s not playing a cop or a criminal, just a self-centered playboy who gets himself in hot water and doesn’t really know how to deal with it until he has an epiphany of sorts while in jail. Young is always dependably good, whether doing light comedy or serious drama, and this is probably one of his best films because it enabled him to put a spin on his usual nice-guy image.

Susan Hayward has a showy role as Verna, making a tramp sympathetic. Hayward toiled as a contract player from the late ’30s, but she really hit it big with “Smashup: The Story of a Woman” in which she played a nightclub singer who hits the skids. It was made the same year as “They Won’t Believe Me,” and she’d never be a supporting actress again; she went on to become one of the biggest female stars of the 50s, often portraying earthy, larger-than-life gals.


Jane Greer

In retrospect, Jane Greer, as Janice, didn’t have much of a film career, but in the late 40s she co-starred in one of the seminal film noirs, “Out of the Past,” which is not to be missed if you like the genre. (Greer also appears in its 1984 remake, “Against All Odds”). She had a way of playing venal characters with a touch of innocence.

Rita Johnson, as Greta, was a stalwart supporting player who always acquitted herself well, usually playing upper-crust society women, as she does here. Her Greta is written a bit too tolerant of Larry’s philandering, but she capably combines sympathetic and manipulative qualities in her characterization.

My assessment
One thing that stands out about this movie is that Young gets to play opposite three female leads. Unbeknownst to him, they each contribute to his downfall, even if it is his own fault. He marries Greta, cheats on Greta. He has an affair with Janice, loses Janice. He meets Verna, runs off with Verna. Verna dies by accident, Greta kills herself on purpose, Janice rats on Larry. Larry gets himself a murder rap.

It’s all very neatly played out, and the three ladies are terrific. Some may have a hard time buying Young in such an unsympathetic role, but he’s not intending to play tough. If anything, the character of Larry Ballentine is a fop whose philandering puts him into a hole he digs himself. It’s as if one of Young’s playboy characters from his light comedies of the 30s has gotten older, but not at all wiser.

Nobody Lives Forever (1946)
“Nobody Lives Forever” capitalizes on what was happening in the country right after the end of WWII. The flag-waving was over, and soldiers were returning to a very different America. The stunted optimism of many returning soldiers was ripe for stories of disillusionment. And where better to depict that disillusionment but film noir like this one?

John Garfield

About the plot
The film opens with returning soldier Nick Blake (John Garfield) reflecting on his hopes for a new, better life in post-war New York. He wants an upstanding life and marriage to his lounge singer girlfriend, Toni (Faye Emerson), but his dreams are shattered when he realizes that while he was away fighting in the war, she not only got a new boyfriend, but also spent all his money. Nick hightails it to Los Angeles, and gets caught up with two small-time criminals.

The scheme at the center of the story is an attempt to dupe rich widow Gladys Halvorsen (Geraldine Fitzgerald) out of her money. But as often happens in films like this, Nick falls in love with her, which complicates matters. He tries to pay off his fellow gang members to get himself out of the scheme and leave Gladys alone. But when the gang’s leader kidnaps her so he can get a bigger share, it leads to an exciting climax.

About the actors
Garfield, while no longer a household name, has a fascinating body of work that represents the aspirations of the working class man of his times. Whether he was playing an oil rig worker, a musician, a boxer, a soldier, a cop, or a criminal trying to go straight, he always brought a tough-but-tender naturalness to his characters.

Sadly, Garfield suffered a heart attack in 1952, what many believe was the result of the stress caused by being a subject of the Communist witch hunt. Earlier in this post, I mentioned Humphrey Bogart, but John Garfield is certainly one of the top actors identified with film noir/crime melodrama.


Geraldine Fitzgerald

In the late 30s, Geraldine Fitzgerald was a second lead in such classics as “Wuthering Heights” and “Dark Victory.” If Warner Brothers tried to groom her as a leading lady, it didn’t really take hold; one could argue she wanted it that way, for as she got older, she took more and more small yet interesting character parts, often—like Angela Lansbury—playing women much older than she actually was. (For example, some viewers may remember her as Dudley Moore’s hunched, hilariously venal grandmother in “Arthur.”)

My assessment
Garfield’s Nick has a chance at redemption in the end, but the film’s opening illustrates how the optimistic hopes of many a veteran were dashed by a bitter realization that America, and the rest of the world, didn’t change much; and perhaps just got more cynical, more dangerous. Even some of Garfield’s later film titles indicate this disaffection: “Force of Evil,” “We Were Strangers,” “The Breaking Point.”

“Nobody Lives Forever” has rich cinematography, and makes great use of both indoor and outdoor locations. There is a beautifully filmed scene with Garfield and Fitzgerald on the grounds of the Mission San Juan Capistrano; in a long shot, a flock of birds soar up and then down to a courtyard at the feet of the couple. It is lyrical and lovely, and captures the mood of their burgeoning romance.

The screenplay is by W.R. Burnett, who was a novelist and screenwriter who penned a number of other film noir classics. His biography on the Internet Movie Database explains: “[Burnett] portrayed characters who have, for one reason or another, fallen into a life of crime. Once sucked into this life they've been unable to climb out. They get one last shot at salvation but the oppressive system closes in and denies redemption.” That is certainly the case with “Nobody Lives Forever.”

Pitfall (1948)
While male leads in film noir are typically hardened characters in urban settings on one or the other (or sometimes both) side of the law, occasionally a film noir takes place in a suburban setting, turning on its head the idea of suburbia as a clean, innocent place free of treachery. In “Pitfall,” we see glimpses of an idyllic home life for John and Sue Forbes and their young son. Everything seems perfect. Except that it’s not.

Dick Powell

About the plot
Forbes (played by Dick Powell) may have what appears to be a model, middle-class life, but he is frustrated with his predictable existence. He works for an insurance company, and deals daily with its drudgery. When he begins investigating what appears to be the usual embezzlement case, he finds the excitement he has been looking for. And a whole lot more.

As part of the case, Forbes must retrieve gifts that were given to Mona Stevens (Lizabeth Scott), the girlfriend of the embezzler (who is already in jail). But when he meets Mona, it’s clear that Forbes will not approach this case like any other. Forbes has never met anyone as electric as her, and they begin an affair. Meanwhile, Forbes’ conscience nags at him when he’s back home with his humdrum existence with his wife Sue (Jane Wyatt).

Entering the picture to complicate matters and bring a bit of stark violence to Forbes’ idyllic affair is J.B. MacDonald (Raymond Burr), a private detective working for the insurance company. MacDonald also has his eye on Mona, but his advances are unwanted. A jealous MacDonald, knowing that Mona won’t accept his advances, pummels Forbes for getting in his way; it’s a beating that takes place in broad daylight and comes as a surprising burst of violence.

It’s at this time that Mona learns that Forbes is married. To make things even more complicated, Mona’s boyfriend Bill Smiley (Byron Barr) is about to get out of jail. Forbes gets revenge against MacDonald by beating him up, but MacDonald reciprocates by informing the bloodthirsty Smiley about Forbes.

Smiley comes to Forbes’ suburban home, and Forbes shoots him. MacDonald, thinking Forbes is the one who was shot, tries to convince Mona to be with him; but Mona shoots MacDonald instead.

Mona is arrested, and Forbes decides he can’t deal with the pressure of the situation. He admits the affair to Sue, and then admits to the district attorney that he knew Smiley, who wasn’t just an intruder, as he first told the police.

Forbes, a victim of his own circumstance, regrets what he’s done fairly early in the picture and does what he has to do to maintain his family life. But the idyll is shattered; the Forbes’s have been jarred from their American dream.

About the actors
Dick Powell started his career as a crooner in many popular musicals of the 1930s. His image was a lightweight comic actor, but he wanted better roles, and eventually completely changed his image by playing gumshoe Philip Marlow in “Murder, My Sweet” in 1944. Whether playing a grizzled, world-weary private detective or a disillusioned middle-aged man of the middle class, he excelled, with an intensity that is surprising when you remember his dimpled, cherubic face in all those Busby Berkeley musicals. In "Pitfall" he brings to his role a sympathetic desperation.

Jane Wyatt, as Sue Forbes, often played wholesome mother roles, and she is most well remembered today as playing Robert Young’s wife in “Father Knows Best.” In “Pitfall,” she plays Sue much in that mold: She is a good wife and mother, supportive of her husband, and she fits into her suburban setting as neatly as her comfortable furniture.

Lizabeth Scott

Lizabeth Scott, as Mona, is one of the grand dames of film noir. Like Lauren Bacall, Scott has a low, gravelly voice that befits the glamorous but hard women she mostly played. She has a number of film noir classics on her resume, including “Dead Reckoning” (1947), opposite Bogart and “The Strange Loves of Martha Ivers” (1946), opposite Kirk Douglas. As of this writing, Ms. Scott is 92 and still doing personal appearances at film festivals.

My assessment
Quite unusual for 1948, “Pitfall” questions the sustainability of a happy home life in the suburbs. Powell’s Forbes is a restless man who has been shoehorned into strict roles as husband, father, and provider. It’s fascinating to me that it is Dick Powell, the former boy singer, who brings to life the disillusioned Forbes. The film presents a number of conventions of post-war America, from the influence of advertising appealing to the burgeoning middle class to the influence of comic books on American children.

There are interesting similarities between “Pitfall” and “They Won’t Believe Me” in that Dick Powell and Robert Young play rather dull yet discontented men who navigate themselves into dangerous territory and dig themselves in deeper. In both films, an unwitting woman enables them to go down a path that changes their lives forever.

Parallels among these films:
For me, one of the fun things about watching old movies is finding parallels from film to film. Before I started researching and writing this installment, I didn’t realize the many similarities across these four titles:

• John Latimer wrote the screenplays for “Nocturne” and “They Won’t Believe Me.”
• Both of those films were produced by Joan Harrison.
• “They Won’t Believe Me” stars Robert Young; “Pitfall” stars Jane Wyatt. They later co-starred on television as husband and wife on “Father Knows Best.”
• The director of “Pitfall,” Andre de Toth, was at one time married to Veronica Lake.
• Veronica Lake starred in the 1942 film noir classic “This Gun for Hire,” whose screenplay was written by W.R. Burnett, who later wrote the screenplay for “Nobody Lives Forever.”
• Jean Negulesco, who directed “Nobody Lives Forever” directed its star, John Garfield, two more times.
• W.R. Burnett also wrote the screenplay for “The Racket” in 1951, which co-starred Lizabeth Scott.
• Lizabeth Scott starred opposite Kirk Douglas in his first movie, the classic film noir “The Strange Love of Martha Ivers” (1946).
• Jane Greer starred opposite Kirk Douglas in his second movie, the classic film noir “Out of the Past” (1947).
• Jane Greer has a small part in “Sinbad, the Sailor,” the movie that is filming on the studio back lot in “Nocturne” when George Raft arrests Lynn Bari.
• Harry J. Wild was the cinematographer on “Nocturne,” “They Won’t Believe Me,” and “Pitfall.”

I’m sure we could find more parallels with a little more investigation. But we’ll leave it at that!

Mickey Rooney: An Appreciation

Mickey Rooney, circa 1940

The career and work of Mickey Rooney, the legendary Hollywood star who died on April 6 at age 93, deserves a closer look. He started at a very early age in his parent’s vaudeville act, so he was hamming it up early in life. He moved on to low-budget 'Mickey Maguire' comedies (I count 55 of them between 1927 and 1934), and even did the voice for the cartoon Oswald the Rabbit (a sort of precursor to Bugs Bunny).

In between, he played roles calling for a cherubic kid, a rascally ragamuffin, or a street-smart scamp, many uncredited. And all this before 1935, when he was cast in a high-profile role as Puck in the film version of Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” That same year saw him appear in an adaptation of Eugene O’Neil’s “Ah, Wilderness.” He played Tommy, the youngest brother in the Miller family. His work was so appealing, he was cast as Andrew Hardy in “A Family Affair.” This small-budget film was such a hit, it started the Andy Hardy series that made Mickey a household name. (It was also a showcase for several young starlets who would go on to bigger things, including Judy Garland, Lana Turner, Donna Reed, and Esther Williams.)

From there, he was one of the most popular young stars in Hollywood, appearing in many MGM comedies, dramas, and musicals from the late 30s through the late 40s.

He had proven himself an agile dancer, a charming singer, a funny comic, and a capable dramatic actor. But by the end of the 1940s, he was pushing 30 and audiences couldn’t really see him as anything but the young, energetic Andy Hardy type, and interest waned. His filmography after about 1948 is dotted with unremarkable titles, but he persevered.

With the advent of television, Mickey continued working in that new medium, alternating appearances in a variety of low-budget pictures throughout the 50s, with the occasional supporting role in a high-profile work.

Mickey and Judy Garland

By the early 60s, he was taking more small parts in big films, including ensemble comedies like “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World,” in which it seemed every major comic star of past and present made an appearance, from Milton Berle to Jack Benny, Sid Caesar to Jonathan Winters. At the same time as this comic fare, he was appearing in gritty dramas like 1962’s “Requiem for a Heavyweight,” arguably Mickey’s last really good role.

For the rest of his life, he worked steadily, appearing in many feature films and television productions throughout the 70s, 80s, and 90s. In between, he appeared in family pictures like “The Magic of Lassie,” “Pete’s Dragon,” both in 1978, and “The Black Stallion” a year later. (The first and third of these kid-friendly movies harkened back to his role as a jockey in the 1944 classic, “National Velvet”—which made Elizabeth Taylor a star.)

True, the quality of his filmography from the late 80s on is spotty at best, but the man never stopped working, all the way up to a brief cameo in 2011’s “The Muppets.” In fact, a look at his filmography shows three films in production for 2014. That’s saying a lot for a man who, born Ninian Joe Yule, Jr. in 1920, went on to be one of the biggest draws in Hollywood’s history and kept at it for nine decades despite many personal ups and downs.

Mickey's Best
Here are a few of the films that I believe encapsulate the Rooney spirit. They represent his comic ability, show off his dramatic skill, and capture his youthful, athletic ebullience.

Boys Town (1938): Spencer Tracy is Father Edward Flanagan, who opens a home for wayward boys on the belief that “there is no such thing as a bad boy.” Mickey, as Whitey Marsh, an arrogant punk, does his best to prove him wrong. Mickey is known to have been a pretty conceited young man in real life, and it’s a trait he leverages to create the character of Whitey. But through the influence of Father Flanagan and the events of the film, Whitey’s character changes, and we know he won’t go down the path of delinquency. Mickey manages to be tough and tender, his manic energy tamped down but still broiling at the surface.

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn (1939): Seriously, who was better cast to play Huckleberry Finn than Mickey Rooney? Although he was already 19 years old, he was a perfect choice to play a rambunctious kid who embarks on an adventure on the Mississippi with Jim, a runaway slave (played by the towering Rex Ingram). This is a flavorful telling of the classic Mark Twain story, and Mickey is terrific. (BTW, the world needs to know more about Rex Ingram, a seemingly forgotten black actor who has a number of distinguished titles in his filmography.)

Babes in Arms (1939): In his first big musical with Judy Garland (but not their first film together), Mickey and Judy struggle to make a go of it in show biz, with the film culminating in a big Busy Berkeley dance number. The prototype for the ‘let’s put on a show’ storyline imitated ever since, “Babes” encapsulates the youthful energy of Mickey and Judy. She was only 17 years old, and he was just 19, and they represented America’s shining youth. (See also "Strike Up the Band," another musical with Judy and Berkeley, made the following year.)

Girl Crazy (1943): Mickey and Judy teamed again a few years later in this buoyant musical based on the Gershwin stage show. (You just can’t go wrong with the starring talents and music by George and lyrics by Ira.) Mickey plays a spoiled rich kid forced to get away from the girls by going to an all-boy’s college. While there, he falls for the Dean’s granddaughter, played by Judy. Amid the typical superficial but fun complications, they sing, they dance, they fall in love, and everyone has a great time: Especially the audience. This one really shows off the chemistry and talent of Mickey and Judy, honed from their previous musicals.

The Human Comedy (1943): For anyone who only knows Mickey’s energetic persona, this movie will come as a surprise. Based on the William Saroyan novel, Mickey plays Homer Macauley, a messenger boy whose simple life in a small New York town is altered dramatically by the stark realities of World War II. Throughout the course of the film, he sees first-hand the effects of war on families who have lost sons. The film has some excellent dramatic work from Mickey, really showing the depth of his skill at a young age. The rest of the cast is full of good performers who were just starting out, including Van Johnson (as Homer’s brother, who’s preparing to leave for the war) and Donna Reed (his sister). Ray Collins and Fay Bainter are lovely as Homer's parents. Frank Morgan (the Wizard in “The Wizard of Oz”) is touching as Homer’s drunken boss Mr. Grogan. There are a couple subplots to round out the film, giving a really good window on life in a small American town at a turning point in our recent history (and it’s better than the book).

Drive a Crooked Road (1954): In this B-movie, he plays Eddie Shannon, a mechanic with aspirations to be a great racecar driver. He’s living in a small apartment with trophies from past successes to remind him that he’s fallen on hard times. When he meets a pretty dame named Barbara, he falls fast; but her attentions are just a ruse to introduce him to two bank robbers who, after ingratiating themselves to him, convince him to drive the getaway car. It doesn’t go well from there. By this point in Mickey’s career, he was definitely no longer a first-rung star; but he is quite understated, except for several justifiably explosive moments. The film is a neat view into the lives of people living on the edge; and, with so much of the film made on location in California, it captures a particular place (I’m thinking Malibu) in the early fifties. It’s a small, subtle film but it pays off for its uniqueness. (It was written by Blake Edwards, who would later direct some famous comedies, including “Breakfast at Tiffany’s’, in which Mickey has a supporting role—as Audrey Hepburn’s harried Japanese neighbor! Hey, it was 1961.)

The Bridges at Toko Ri (1954): The stars of this Korean wartime picture are William Holden and Grace Kelly, but Mickey has a plum supporting role as Holden’s rescue helicopter pilot pal Mike Forney. He’s a tragic figure in a film—based on James E. Michener's novel and shot in color and on location in the Pacific—that asks hard questions about war. But bear in mind, it’s really not a war movie; rather it’s an examination of characters dealing with war’s ramifications. Mickey does a fine job in a real character part, getting the chance to be funny and touching.

Requiem for a Heavyweight (1962): Anthony Quinn is Louis 'Mountain' Rivera, a boxer at the end of his career. Jackie Gleason is his manager, who has bet it all on Quinn losing a round against none other than Cassius Clay (aka Muhammed Ali). This is a dark movie, about seedy characters; it was written by Rod Serling (“Twilight Zone”), based on his original television script, improved by a feature film budget and execution. Don’t be put off if you’re not a boxing fan; this is a character study of the first order, and everyone give stellar performances. (People seem to forget that Jackie Gleason was a very solid dramatic actor in the early 60s, because all they remember is “The Honeymooners” from the prior decade. Same can be said for Mickey: He plays Army, Mountain's trainer, and it's one of his best dramatic performances.)

Here's a typically sweet tribute to Mickey from Turner Classic Movies.

Side note: I don't recommend "Midsummer Night's Dream" (1935). It has gorgeous cinematography and some good moments, but Mickey as Puck is just too irritating for words. Granted, he was only 15 years old, so I blame the directors. Also, avoid one of the few films that Mickey directed, "The Private Lives of Adam and Eve" (1960), at all costs. He plays The Devil; it's not entertaining even on a camp level, just lousy.

An Overlooked Gem from 1939

The year 1939 was a huge one for Hollywood. Such well-known titles as “Gone with the Wind” and “The Wizard of Oz” exemplify its classic status. In discussions of that fruitful year, we hear about similarly classic titles as "Dark Victory," "Stagecoach," "The Women," and other films that are iconic for one reason or another.

Our featured film, however, is usually not on the list. "In Name Only” is what I believe to be an unsung film from the big year of 1939. It is a mature romantic drama, with career-changing performances from its two leads.

About the plot. The film stars Cary Grant as Alec Walker, a wealthy man living a fairly carefree existence, except for the fact that his marriage to Maida (played by Kay Francis) is a sham. They exist in an artificial image of a happy marriage; everyone else thinks it’s perfect except Alec, who knows the truth. Maida has carefully crafted an image of a doting wife, and everyone—including their friends and Alec’s parents—buy into it.

Julie Eden is a widowed fashion illustrator living in a small country cottage near Alec’s stately home. When Alec meets her at a pond while she’s struggling to catch a fish, they strike up a tentative friendship. Julie is reserved, broken-hearted by the death of her husband, and at first is resistant to Alec’s charms. But they spend more time together, and eventually fall in love.

Alec asks Maida for a divorce, but she won’t get out of the way that easily. When Alec is in a car accident, Julie and Maida meet for the first time, and Maida makes sure that Julie is painted as a home-wrecker. With everything—including Alec’s parents—against her, Julie breaks off the relationship, knowing it can’t work out under the circumstances.

Meanwhile, Alec, feeling trapped in a loveless marriage and unable to be with the woman he now loves, gets drunk and checks into a cheap hotel, where he passes out in front of an open window. The cold air causes him to catch pneumonia. At the hospital, the doctor tells both Julie and Alec's father that Alec will come out of his condition only with the will to live. So in an effort to help him recover, Julie lies to Alec, telling him that Maida has agreed to divorce him.

When Maida arrives at the hospital, Julie finally faces Maida and attempts to keep her from disturbing Alec. It’s at this moment that Maida makes herself perfectly clear, freely admitting to Julie that she married Alec not only for his money, but the social position that came with it. Unbeknownst to her, however, Alec’s parents overhear her as she explains that, once Alec’s father is dead, everything will be hers. Bad move.

Not only is Maida revealed to those she duped for the avaricious woman she is, but she has officially paved the way for Alec to be with Julie. An emotional conclusion with Julie at Alec’s bedside assure us that things are going to work out just fine.

Cary Grant

About the actors. At the time this film was released, Cary Grant had developed a reputation as a comic actor opposite some of the era’s biggest female stars (Irene Dunne, Katharine Hepburn, Constance Bennett). But 1939 was an unusual year for Grant; he was cast against comic type in two grand adventure films (“Gunga Din" and “Only Angels Have Wings”), as well as the drama of “In Name Only.” I think his performance as Alec is one of the best of his career because it utilizes his effortless charm—and, in a few scenes, his comic timing—yet lets him demonstrate his dramatic chops as well.

I always thought there was something fresh and contemporary about Carole Lombard, and those traits are on display in “In Name Only.” When I first saw this film, I knew her strictly as a comic actress, and for me her performance was a revelation.

Carole Lombard

Kay Francis

Like Grant, she was clearly trying to branch out from the comedies that had been her mainstay throughout most of the thirties. The same year as “In Name Only,” she starred opposite up-and-comer James Stewart in a domestic drama called “Made for Each Other.” And she followed “In Name Only” in 1940 with two other heavy dramas. I admire her for trying to stretch her talents beyond freewheeling comedies.

While these dramas are all good on their own terms, there is something special about her as Julie in “In Name Only.” The earthy honesty of her comedies is there in this performance, whose resigned, restrained sadness is very touching. (Speaking of sad, Lombard only made four movies after “In Name Only”; she died in a plane crash in 1942. I always wondered what her career trajectory would have been had she lived.)

Kay Francis, as Maida, was one of the most popular stars of the early 30s, the “Queen of Warner Brothers.” Like many actresses of the early talkie era, she had a grandiose manner that was typical after sound first came in and Hollywood was still finding its footing. She made a few classic light comedies and melodramas at this time (such titles as “Trouble in Paradise,” "Jewel Robbery," and “One Way Passage,” all from 1932), but by 1939 her popularity as a leading lady had long slipped and she was relegated to playing second leads and supporting roles.

"In Name Only" is probably her most distinguished film of this period; her characterization of Maida utilizes her studied regality very well. I found a greater appreciation for her here, as she pretends to be the long-suffering wife of a ne’er do well, while actually scheming to get whatever she wants. She plays her final scene, set at the hospital, to the hilt, her calculated coldness on full display.

About the look and feel. This is an RKO Radio Pictures production, and it bears the studio’s visual stamp. Unlike some studios, many RKO pictures actually filmed outdoor scenes outdoors, rather than on a sound stage with fake sets or rear projection, and it makes them feel more authentic, more direct. The early scenes near the pond, for example, have an open, airy quality that underscores the relaxed interplay between Grant and Lombard.

The interior scenes of Julie’s cottage, as well as Alec’s estate, have a tastefully appointed coziness. So for fans of period Hollywood-idealized interior design, the film is a treat. (Even if a fashion illustrator in 1939 most likely couldn’t afford a one-room apartment, let alone a cottage, as Lombard's Julie Eden does in this movie.)

The fashions in the flim are similarly understated. Almost all of Lombard's clothes are casual and practical, which echoes her character. Julie is an unaffected woman, so her wardrobe in in line with her personality. It's a relief from the fabulous gowns and frocks that Lombard usually wore. By contrast, Francis gets to wear a variety of glamorous outfits that underscore her character's love of what money can buy. And for the man in the picture, Grant looks—as he always did—terrific in his suits and sport coats, as always.

My assessment. Sounds like this story is the stuff of high soap opera, right? True, but it’s easy to do this type of story wrong. It's harder to make it work on its terms. In the case of “In Name Only,” it’s all played so well, so smoothly, that the film is engrossing and thoroughly entertaining throughout. Director John Cromwell conducts the proceedings without florid dramatics. In fact, the action is downright understated. And that’s part of the reason why I think it’s impressive and worth watching today.


“In Name Only” is not usually included in the pantheon of classic films of 1939, but because of its cast and production, I think it should be. Turner Classic Movies runs it occasionally, and it is available on DVD. It's worth catching.

1936 Best Picture Nominee Rises Above the Rest

“Have you ever noticed how transparent people are when you really look at them?”

With 2013 Oscar season now behind us, I thought this was a good time to kick off “In a Movie Place.” I was thinking about how many great films were made during Hollywood’s so-called golden age of the studio era, the 1930s. I did a quick scan of the best picture nominees throughout that decade. I thought about how, in hindsight, some of the winners have not held up, while several of the also-rans are actually superior films that hold up remarkably well today.

One of those titles is “Dodsworth,” a 1936 best picture nominee. It started as a book by Sinclair Lewis, which was turned into a play by Sidney Howard, who then wrote the screenplay for director William Wyler’s film, produced by Samuel Goldwyn, no stranger to high-quality material.

About the plot. The film examines pre-war American morals, manners, and spirit through the character of Sam Dodsworth, the head of Dodsworth Motor Company, an automobile manufacturing firm headquartered in Zenith, Ohio. His wife Fran is a denizen of Zenith society, obsessed with remaining youthful despite the onset of middle age. She has distinct aspirations for what she considers the better things in life. While very wealthy, Fran still feels frustrated and unfulfilled living in this small Ohio town and wants more excitement. Meanwhile, Sam is at a crossroads in his life, having achieved most everything he ever set out to do. Fran capitalizes on his discontent by convincing him to sell his interest in the company and take a voyage on the Queen Mary bound for England and Paris.

But the cruise has unintended ramifications, as Fran’s own discontent manifests itself in flirtations with various men aboard ship. While Sam views Fran as merely stretching her wings a little, he meets a sympathetic divorcee named Edith Cortright, with whom he develops a friendship.  Arriving in Paris, the Dodsworths begin a social whirl, during which Fran’s flirtations develop into an adulterous romance with a nobleman. Fran, tired of Sam, insists that they separate. A brief reconciliation leads to a decision to divorce. However, at the climax of the film, Fran learns that the nobleman cannot marry her after all; desperate, she tries to convince Sam to take her back. But he has had enough, and in a dramatic finish, he leaves Fran on a cruise liner bound for the states for the kind-hearted Edith who, through the course of the film, revealed her own feelings for Sam.

My assessment. It may sound like soap opera, but this is really an expert examination of the dissolution of a marriage and an epiphany, the reawakening of a particular man. The film is unique for the 1930s in that it is really an examination of Sam’s inner life; we get to see him reevaluate how far he has come in life in terms of his success, as he begins to yearn for something he can’t quite define. (As it turns out, that yearning is for someone who loves him not for what he can buy, but for who he is.)



Walter Huston

Sam represents the classic American self-made man. However, despite all that he has achieved, he is not happy. Fran represents the striving for self-improvement, the feeling that what she has is not enough. For all she has, she is not happy. Yet her aspirations and pretentions make her lose sight of what is truly important. To me, “Dodsworth” stands today as an excellent evocation of the mid-1930s in terms of manners, morals, and international attitudes, not to mention fashion and transportation. It's worth noting that making Sam the president of a car company is emblematic of where we were as a nation at that time—the height of the machine age.

Outside of a dramatic (and cathartic) climax, there really aren’t any overblown dramatics in the film; rather, the dialogue feels very true. The scene between Sam and Fran in their hotel room as they bicker while getting ready for bed is a great example. The scene in which Sam confronts Fran’s new paramour—and her subsequent defensiveness—is another. It’s here where Sam says slyly, “Have you ever noticed how transparent people are when you really look at them?”

I think the success of the film over many other Best Picture nominees (and winners) of that decade is that it still tells us something about ourselves. As Americans, we still have the mentality to work hard, achieve the best, strive for more, always fit society’s standard of success. Yet, like Sam, some of us reach a point where we realize there must be something else to life.

About the actors. By today’s standards, Walter Huston’s portrayal of Sam may come across as bombastic at times, but at that time he was considered one of the best actors of the stage and screen, someone who could do anything. (BTW, he's the father of John Huston and grandfather of Anjelica Huston.) I think his gruffness is spot-on. It characterizes a smart, yet plain-talking man from humble roots who has made good for himself in a capitalist society, someone who believed in his God-given right and ability to make a name for himself.



Ruth Chatterton

Ruth Chatterton, as Fran, has the grandiose diction and delivery typical of a former stage actress and early-30s film star. She comes off as artificial and tinny, but I think this suits the character of Fran. Her grasping brittleness may not make her accessible to modern audiences, but it certainly helps frame her as an unsympathetic character in this film. (Fun fact: In the racy 1933 film “Female,” she plays a hard-edged executive of an automobile manufacturer!)

In contrast to Chatterton, Mary Astor, as Edith, seems very real and grounded. She creates a warm characterization of an independent woman who is not the least bit concerned about making a big impression on anybody. She is smart and self-aware, and her scenes opposite Chatterton’s self-absorbed, shallow Fran underscore these traits. In fact, in any scene in which Fran and Edith interact, you immediately know who the real sophisticate is, who the real lady is. And they have a couple of great moments together. (Astor's career lasted much longer than Chatterton's, and she proved herself consistently as a versatile actress adept at heavy drama, action adventure, film noir, and screwball comedy. She has several big-time classics in her filmography, the best known being the femme fatale in Walter's son John's 1941 masterpiece, "The Maltese Falcon.")

Mary Astor

I see the characters of Fran and Edith as opposing forces. It would be simplistic to say that Edith is ‘good’ and Fran is ‘evil.’ Rather, I kind of look at Sam Dodsworth as a scale, with the heaviness of Fran on one side and the lightness of Edith on the other. But in this film, everyone is flawed.

About the look and feel. The film does a terrific job of capturing the look of the 1930s, from the streamlined manufacturing plant to the plush coziness of the Dodsworth’s Zenith home; from the art deco design of the ship to the extravagance of old Europe. Not to mention the casual airiness of Edith's Italian villa, the scene of a turning point in the film.

Speaking of the ship, it’s important to remember that "Dodsworth" was made when ocean liners were still a major mode of transportation. The movie surely conveys the glamour and romanticism of ocean travel in a visual way that the book and play could not. (And it makes you want to go back in time and take the Dodsworth’s journey, as long as you can look as good in a deck chair as Mary Astor does!)

The film’s look and tone feel very rooted in the 1930s, but because it’s so well done across the board—from the writing to the acting and directing to the impeccable costumes and set design—and because it deals with substantial themes, I feel that "Dodworth" rises above the other nominees (and the winner) for its year. A classic is a film that feels timeless, and, to me, “Dodsworth” does. Taking stock, seeing how far one has come and the prices paid, asking, “How did I get here? Is this what I wanted?” are themes that resonate regardless of time period, and that’s why the movie is so special.

The film is available on DVD and runs pretty regularly on Turner Classic Movies.