Thursday, April 17, 2014

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!

Monday, April 7, 2014

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.