Devil and the Deep (1932)

Devil and the Deep is a 1932 Paramount pre-code melodrama that takes some bizarre turns.

The setting is a naval base in North Africa. It’s not specifically stated but one assumes it’s a British naval base (I don’t think the U.S. Navy would have had bases in North Africa in 1932).

Commander Charles Sturm (Charles Laughton) is the skipper of a submarine. He is married to Diana (Tallulah Bankhead). It is not a happy marriage. Commander Sturm is obsessively jealous. That’s not helped by the fact that there have been so many rumours flying around about his wife’s infidelities. Diana claims that her husband has started these rumours himself.

This is entirely possible. It is suggested at one point that he has undergone medical treatment for some kind of brain disorder. He is clearly severely paranoid. His jealousy is completely out of control.

He is just about to ruin the career of a young officer, Lieutenant Jaeckel (Cary Grant) whom he suspects of having an affair with Diana. The various exchanges we see between Jaeckel and Diana would seem to indicate that there was nothing more than the mildest flirtation involved. Possibly not even that. But the Commander is not just jealous and paranoid, he is vindictive.

We start to suspect that he may in fact be insane. Diana suspects his as well.

After another stormy scene Diana heads for the bazaar. She meets a handsome mysterious man (played by Gary Cooper) and by this time she is so fed up that she actually is unfaithful. This is a pre-code movie so we’re left in no doubt that they do indeed sleep together.

The mysterious stranger (in an unlikely coincidence but this is melodrama so let’s not worry about coincidences) turns out to be Lieutenant Sempter. He is about to take Lieutenant Jaeckel’s place as executive officer of Commander Sturm’s submarine.

Things get rather tense. How much does the Commander suspect? How much does he know?

At this point the plot gets totally wild and crazy and twisted but I’m not going to give away any spoilers.

The North African setting qualifies this as a “sex, sin and madness in the tropics” melodrama, which is just about my favourite movie genre.

Of all the great English theatrical hams Charles Laughton was the hammiest, and the greatest. He had a knack for giving performances that were both absurd and strangely magnificent. He could be grand and terrifying and pathetic all at the same time. It’s hard to think of anyone better suited to playing a madman like Commander Sturm. Laughton at his peak could make this kind of performance work in a way no other actor could have done. And he manages to make us feel some empathy for this horrible but suffering man.

Tallulah Bankhead is excellent. She manages to make us feel sympathetic towards a woman pushed over the edge, and to keep us guessing as to whether this really was the first time she had betrayed her husband. And that’s important. The movie is not being coy - it’s made crystal clear that Diana and Sempter do sleep together. But it’s important in plot terms that the audience should be left uncertain as to whether Commander Sturm really is a wronged husband who has been made a fool of countless times or whether it’s a paranoid delusion on his part. We need to be unsure if Diana is a faithless wife or a wronged woman finally driven to actual infidelity.

Gary Cooper is the weak link. I have to say that I am not a Gary Cooper fan. He’s dull and wooden here. Of course his fans will point to this as an example of his subtlety. Perhaps it’s just a matter of taste. He’s an actor who just never really grabs me.

Cary Grant has only a small role. He was still developing his screen persona at this point. Within a couple of years he would have been a more interesting choice as the male lead but in 1932 Cooper was a huge star and Grant was just a promising up-and-comer.

Russian-born director Marion Gering had a brief Hollywood career in the early to mid 1930s. He does a competent job here and manages a few quite clever compositions. This is a great-looking movie with lovely cinematography by Charles Lang and some nice sets (including some left over from Morocco).

Devil and the Deep has its problems but Bankhead and Laughton are very watchable and the crazy late plot turns are fun. Recommended.

Kino Lorber have provided a solid Blu-Ray transfer.

Black Tuesday (1954)

Black Tuesday is a 1954 independent production released by United Artists. It’s included in one of Kino Lorber’s film noir boxed sets. It’s certainly a very grim brutal hard-hitting movie but I don’t think that’s necessarily enough to make it a film noir.

Racketeer Vince Canelli (Edward G. Robinson) and bank robber Peter Manning (Peter Graves) are to die in the electric chair. Manning stole $200,000 but refuses to reveal where the money is.

Vince has no intention of keeping his date with death. His girlfriend Hatti (Jean Parker) has an ingenious plan. It’s so crazy it might work.

If Vince escapes he’s taking Manning with him. That two hundred grand will get them out of the country.

They leave a few corpses behind them and they take some hostages.

The first half of the movie is the prison break. The second half is the manhunt which ends in a bloody siege. The body count will be high.

This movie delivers plenty of violent action, and by 1950s standards it really is violent.

Edward G. Robinson is in fine form. He plays Vince as a madman, ready to explode into violence at any moment.

Peter Graves is the standout performer and Manning is the most interesting and complex character by far.

All the supporting performances are good, the one exception being Milburn Stone’s dull turn as the priest.

What makes this movie a cut above most prison break movies is its moral complexity. Vince is a vicious crazy killer but his love for Hatti is real. He cares about her more than he cares about anything else.

Manning is a nice guy gone wrong. He’s bitter but he takes no pleasure in killing.

Hatti’s devotion to Vince is absolute. She would die for him.

The bad guys are dangerous killers but in some ways the ostensible good guys are worse.The bad guys might be killers but they are at least brave men (and in the case of Hatti brave women). The prison guards and the reporters get real pleasure out of watching prisoners get executed. They get even more pleasure from psychologically torturing condemned prisoners beforehand. What they enjoy most is that they get to participate in legal killings without taking any risks.

Apart from Billy Wilder’s Ace in the Hole this may be the most negative portrayal of journalists in any 1950s movie.

Manning killed a cop. But the police in this movie are quite happy to sacrifice the lives of innocent civilians (including a young woman) for the sake of exacting vengeance on Manning. Apparently cop lives matter but civilian lives don’t.

It’s clear that capital punishment is seen purely as revenge. As a response to violent crime it simply fuels further violence. When men know that the state is going to execute them they have nothing to lose - they might as well keep on killing if that’s the only way to stay alive. Vince Cannelli is a killer but he’s a man and he wants to survive. It was the state’s death sentence on him that fuelled his final murderous rampage. If you brutalise already violent men you’ll just make them more violent. The cycle of violence keeps going.

Peter Manning is not a vicious psychopathic killer to begin with but with that death sentence hanging over his head he will kill to stay alive. Black Tuesday does not indulge in any obvious overt messaging but there’s some real substance to this movie if you dig a bit deeper.

The priest is self-satisfied and ineffectual. He has nothing but platitudes to offer. He’s the prison chaplain. His job is to persuade men to die meekly when they’re told to so. He never really figures out why those men quite rightly despise him.

Argentinian director Hugo Fregonese does a fine job here. Mention must be made of Stanley Cortez’s superb noirish cinematography.

Sydney Boehm wrote the screenplay. His credits include the classic The Big Heat (1953) and a stack of great movies such as Violent Saturday (1955), Secret of the Incas (1954), Union Station (1950), Side Street (1949) and High Wall (1947). Toughness was a major characteristic of his writing.

Black Tuesday isn’t pure film noir but it has some genuine noir flavour. An excellent underrated hard-edged crime thriller. Highly recommended.

Kino Lorber have provided a lovely transfer and Gary Gerani’s audio commentary is very worthwhile.

From this same Edward G. Robinson boxed set I’ve also reviewed Nightmare and Vice Squad.

The Shadow Strikes (1937)

The Shadow Strikes is a 1937 B-movie based on the Shadow character featured in a series of pulp novels and radio dramas. The Shadow was typical of the pulp heroes of that era. They were not superheroes as such but characters like the Shadow and Doc Savage could be regarded as proto-superheroes. Masked crime-fighters were very popular.

Rod La Rocque plays the title character. For some unknown reason the Lamont Cranston of the pulps and radio dramas becomes Lamont Granston in this movie.

This was the first movie appearance of the Shadow. It was made by a small outfit called Grand National Pictures. They made a follow-up movie, International Crime, a year later (again with Rod La Rocque). There would be later Shadow movies from Monogram in the 40s.

The Shadow Strikes opens with a brief scene which gives us, in a perfunctory manner, the information that the wealthy Lamont Granston (Rod La Rocque) has a secret identity as the masked crime-fighter known as the Shadow.

The Shadow interrupts a burglary in the office of lawyer Chester Randall. The Shadow has given the police a tip-off but he is unable to make his getaway before they arrive. Luckily the cops, led by Captain Breen (Kenneth Harlan), are not too bright - at no point in the movie do they actually check any information given to them, they just take everything anybody says at face value. The Shadow, who has at least had time to shed his masked crime-fighter garb, is easily able to fool the police into believing that he is in fact Chester Randall.

Then there’s a telephone call for Chester Randall. Granston decides to continue his impersonation - he has a hunch that he will uncover something interesting by doing so. A wealthy old guy, Caleb Delthern, wants a new will draw up. It has to be done urgently. He thinks his life is in danger. He’s not wrong about that. Minutes later he is shot dead through a window by an unknown assassin who makes a successful escape.

Caleb’s heirs are a motley assortment of nieces and nephews and the terms of his will are such as to make them all possible suspects. They all behave rather suspiciously. The youngest of the nephews, Jasper, is a dissipated young man heavily in debt to gambling boss and presumed racketeer Brossett (Cy Kendall).

Most of this movie’s many problems stem from the fact that it’s a very low-budget production from a particularly low-rent Poverty Row outfit. Director Lynn Shores relies heavily on lengthy very static dialogue scenes, these being scenes that could be shot very quickly, easily and cheaply. There was obviously neither the time nor the money to attempt any worthwhile action scenes.

A bigger problem is that it’s played as a standard crime mystery B-movie. Lamont Granston spends almost the entire movie pretending to be Chester Randall. We see the briefest of glimpses of him in his Shadow guise. There is no mention of any of the Shadow’s special talents. He becomes just a stock-standard amateur detective.

The best thing about this movie is the almost complete absence of the irritating comic relief that ruined so many American B-movies of this era.

The Shadow Strikes is just too stilted and too talky and it lacks atmosphere. The plot is serviceable. The acting is at best adequate. It’s just a very unexciting routine mystery that takes no advantages of the possibilities afforded by the original version of the character. Maybe worth a look for its curiosity value if you’re a Shadow fan.

I found a copy of this film, which obviously had fallen into the public domain, in one of those Mill Creek 50-movie DVD sets (in this case their Mystery Classics set). The transfer is a bit rough but watchable.

Diary of a Lost Girl (1929)

Diary of a Lost Girl was the second of the two silent films Louise Brooks made in Germany for director G.W. Pabst. Pandora's Box is by far the more famous and celebrated of the two.

I have to put my cards on the table right here. While it’s generally regarded as a cinematic masterpiece I am not a great fan of Pandora’s Box. For me it’s an interesting but flawed movie and its only claim to greatness is the performance of Louise Brooks.

One thing that the viewer needs to bear in mind is that not all German movies of the 1920s belong to the Expressionist movement. Pabst most definitely did not adhere to that school. He was a realist.

Diary of a Lost Girl is a realist film but with a plot that is pure melodrama.

Thymian is an innocent young girl. Louise Brooks had many virtues as an actress but playing an innocent virginal young girl was quite outside her acting range. Thymian’s father owns a pharmacy. Thymian is cast out by her family when she falls pregnant to her father’s sleazy assistant pharmacist Meinert. He knocked her out with a sleeping draught in order to have his way with her.

The family is outraged that she then refuses to marry Meinert. She also faces implacable hostility from Meta, her father’s housekeeper. Meta intends to marry Thymian’s father.

Thymian is sent to a reformatory. It’s like a cross between a workhouse in a Dickens novel and a women’s prison in a 1970s women-in-prison exploitation movie. It’s run by a couple of crazed sadists who would be more at home in a horror movie.

Thymian’s only ally is the young Count Osdorff (André Roanne). With his help she escapes, along with one of the other girls, Erika (Edith Meinhard).

Thymian then suffers a personal tragedy, discovering that her child is dead. This is one of the film’s narrative weak points. No woman would bounce back so quickly after the death of a child.

Thymian becomes a high-class prostitute. The nicest, sanest, happiest people in this movie are the madam and the girls in the brothel. They are cheerful and easy-going. The madam obviously looks after her girls and is fond of them, and they’re fond of her. The brothel is an oasis of camaraderie and happiness in an otherwise bleak world. And this is the one time Thymian seems really happy.

Then another plot twist kicks in, followed in quick succession by several others. Pabst seems to be aiming for irony here, and also to give the movie a satisfying cyclical twist.

I believe Pabst was forced to change his original ending which would have been more satisfying and more in keeping with the tone of the film.

On the surface this is a conventional melodrama with an innocent girl corrupted and forced into a degrading life of prostitution (she becomes a “lost girl”) but Pabst was clearly trying to give the story an ironic twist. In this movie trying to be respectable and conform to society’s rules will get you nowhere but if you become a lost girl, a prostitute, you paradoxically find happiness and friendship. It’s a message that might be too radical for many modern viewers.

This movie doesn’t really pull its punches. It’s made quite explicit that Thymian falls pregnant after being taken by force by Meinert. There is no attempt at all to disguise the fact that the brothel is in fact a brothel. It’s also made quite clear (and this might certainly be too radical for some viewers today) that the brothel girls enjoy working in a brothel.

After a shaky start Louise Brooks gives a superb performance. Anyone who thinks actresses in the silent era were not capable of subtle naturalistic performances needs to see Brooks in this movie.

Some of the other acting turns are rather bizarre. The villains in this movie are outrageously over-the-top, almost as if they were appearing in a pantomime. There’s an uneasy mix of tones in this film. Pabst was by inclination a realist but here he’s working with material that is not just pure melodrama but melodrama of an extreme type.

This movie is a bit of a mess in many ways but it has its compensations. Thymian is never presented as a bad girl, or even a good girl gone wrong. Becoming a prostitute is seen as just a perfectly reasonable way to make a living. For all its flaws it’s an oddly fascinating movie, recommended for that reason.

I’ve also reviewed Pandora's Box (1929).

Black Angel (1946)

I would not describe Black Angel, released by Universal in 1946, as an obscure film noir but over the years it definitely has not received quite as much attention as it deserves.

It is based on a Cornell Woolrich novel and it was almost impossible to make a bad movie based on a Woolrich story. His stories just really lent themselves to cinematic adaptation. Woolrich was not a great prose stylist but he had a talent for viciously twisted plots and for creating an atmosphere of paranoia, despair and madness. When translated to the screen his stories just worked.

And there’s some impressive talent involved in this movie. Dan Duryea and Peter Lorre in a film noir. That’s a very promising start. Plus Broderick Crawford who did some fine noir work.

And then you notice that the movie was directed by Roy William Neill and you remember his Sherlock Holmes B-movies for Universal. A very competent director with the ability to get great results from limited budgets.

We get plenty of noir atmosphere right from the get-go. There’s a glamorous blonde and she’s a canary and we know she’s having man trouble. Then Dan Duryea makes his appearance. He seems edgy. That’s all Dan Duryea had to do to give a movie a serious noir vibe.

Immediately afterwards we get our first glimpse of Peter Lorre, looking prosperous and chomping a cigar. We just know he’s involved in something twisted and sinister.

The songbird is Mavis Marlowe (Constance Dowling). On this night she has several visitors. One of them is Marty Blair (Dan Duryea) but she refuses to see him even when he explains to the hotel doorman that he’s her husband. Another is Kirk Bennett (John Phillips). Maybe there was another visitor, and maybe there wasn’t.

Mavis ends up dead and Kirk (who is one of life’s great saps) does every dumb thing that movie protagonists always do. He picks up the gun, getting his fingerprints all over it. Then he scrams, and gets seen by the maid while doing so. He has now ensured that he will be the prime suspect. Homicide Captain Flood (Broderick Crawford) isn’t a bad guy as cops go but the evidence against Kirk is overwhelming. Just to top things off he has a motive - Mavis was blackmailing him. He’s a married man and she was a married woman but they weren’t married to each other so it’s not hard to figure out the blackmail angle. It’s no surprise that Kirk gets arrested and convicted.

But all this is just the beginning of the story. Kirk’s wife Catherine (June Vincent) won’t accept that her husband is a murderer. She is determined to find the real murderer.

She has in her possession a clue. It’s easy to see why the police overlooked it. It appears to have no significance. She thinks it has no significance, until quite by accident she finds out that it’s actually crucial.

When you’re well into this movie you might find yourself thinking that it’s not very Woolrichian. Don’t worry. When the Woolrichian elements kick in they do so in big way. I can’t tell you any more than that without revealing spoilers.

If there’s a minor weakness in this movie it’s June Vincent. She’s not the greatest of noir leading ladies. She’s no Lizabeth Scott. But Catherine is after all a very ordinary woman faced with an extraordinary situation so June Vincent’s hesitant performance actually works fairly well.

Dan Duryea is of course terrific. The great thing about Duryea is that no-one could be more slimy and menacing and no-one did self-pity better but he could also project genuine charm and likeability. That works here. Marty Blair is a self-pitying drunk with a temper but we can’t be sure if he’s going to turn out to be a vicious killer or a really nice guy.

Peter Lorre oozes sinister menace as rich nightclub owner Marko who plays a vital role in the story. He gets what he wants. Including women. He wants Catherine. But this is Peter Lorre so there’s an extra something to his performance, a slight touch of ambiguity which suggests that maybe we shouldn’t take Marko at face value. It’s a fine performance.

And Black Angel has some suitably noirish visuals.

Black Angel belongs to the Woolrichian noir sub-genre and it’s a fine example of the breed. Highly recommended.

Double Door (1934)

Double Door is a 1934 Paramount release and it came out in May of that year so it is a pre-code movie. It has definite claims to being a horror movie, but not in the style of the 1930s Universal horror films. There’ll be more to say on the subject of genre later.

It was based on a hit play of the same name by Elizabeth McFadden. The play itself was based on the real-life story of the fabulously wealthy but bizarre Wendell family. The last of the Wendells died in 1931.

McFadden denied that her play was based on the Wendells but the parallels between that family and McFadden’s fictional Van Brett family are so striking that it stretches credibility beyond breaking point to believe that the Wendells were not the inspiration for the play.

The setting is Manhattan in 1910. A wedding is taking place in the Van Brett family mansion. It might be 1910 but despite the family’s vast wealth the house seems decades out of date. The past is an oppressive presence.

The family is ruled by the formidable Victoria Van Brett (Mary Morris). Under the terms of her late father’s will she controls the money. Her sister Caroline (Anne Revere) and her half-brother Rip (Kent Taylor) are entirely dominated by her. Right from the start we sense that Victoria is not quite sane and is consumed by hatreds and resentments. We will quite soon discover that she is not sane at all and that she is very definitely evil.

Rip has married Anne Darrow (Evelyn Venable), a nurse. Victoria is furious at the idea of a Van Brett marrying someone from outside the Van Brett’s social class. To her marrying a nurse is not much better than marrying a shop girl or a parlour maid. Victoria is determined to wreck this marriage and her overwhelming and controlling personality and iron grip on the purse-strings puts her in an excellent position to do so. Victoria will stop at nothing to destroy the marriage and to destroy Anne.

Rip is pleasant enough but he’s a weakling and a fool. Anne has one ally, Rip’s best friend Dr John Lucas (Colin Tapley), but there’s a complication. Dr Lucas had at one time been in love with Anne and Victoria can (and will) use that fact to plant seeds of suspicion in Rip’s mind.

Anne is soon engaged in a desperate and seemingly losing fight to save not just her marriage but her sanity as well. Victoria’s madness reaches epic proportions.

Mary Morris gives us an extraordinary portrait of malevolent insanity which is truly amazing to watch. Paramount’s promotion of the movie compared her to Karloff and Lugosi and the comparison has some substance to it. Victoria Van Brett is a full-blown monster, albeit a human monster.

Anne Revere takes stagey overacting to levels never previously thought possible.

Evelyn Venable is a likeable enough heroine. This is a movie entirely dominated by the women. Both Kent Taylor and Colin Tapley are adequate but a bit colourless

This is out-and-out melodrama. From the start there’s an atmosphere of suppressed hysteria in the Van Brett household and the hysteria soon bursts into full bloom.

There’s also a very strong gothic feel. There’s something slightly decadent and Poe-like in the descent into collective madness of the slowly decaying and degenerating Van Brett family.

It’s not really the plot that matters so much as the overheated claustrophobic atmosphere and the extraordinary menace projected by Mary Morris’s bizarre but fascinating performance.

And there are some genuine horror moments. There are no hints at all of the supernatural. The Van Brett mansion is hunted not by ghosts but by very human evil. The other characters are trapped is a web of malevolence spun by Victoria.

Double Door is an oddity but an extremely interesting one and it’s highly recommended.

The Kino Lorber Blu-Ray looks nice and includes some extras.

Faithless (1932)

Faithless is a 1932 MGM pre-code movie and it effectively marks the end of Tallulah Bankhead’s Hollywood career. There’ll be more to say about Miss Bankhead’s career later.

Faithless starts out as a breezy comedy of manners among the rich and the famous. It turns into a gritty harrowing social realist drama about survival during the Depression. I would assume that audiences were not expecting that sudden dramatic turn which may be why it failed to ignite the box office. And this is not a movie one would have expected from MGM.

Carol Morgan (Tallulah Bankhead) is a spoilt rich girl. She is accustomed to getting whatever she wants. She wants the handsome Bill Wade (Robert Montgomery). He wants her as well. The problem is money. Carol is fabulously rich. Bill has a moderately well-paid advertising job. He insists that they will have to live on his income. Carol thinks that’s the most absurd thing she’s ever heard.

They finally decide they will marry and they celebrate their decision by sleeping together. But that money is still a problem and the wedding is cancelled.

Bill had assumed that once they had had sex she would naturally agree to marriage on his terms. What kind of girl would sleep with a man and then refuse his offer of marriage? Carol for her part had assumed that once they had had sex he would naturally agree to marriage on her terms. What kind of man would sleep with a girl and then not marry her?

It’s the start of an on-again off-again relationship.

Meanwhile fate has nasty surprises in store for both of them. Carol’s fortune has been swallowed up by the Depression. She is now penniless. Now surely she’ll have to marry Bill on his terms, but she doesn’t. Bill loses his job. He’s penniless as well. Their initial problems were caused by too much money; their later problems are caused by too little money.

From this point on I will be mentioning some of the plot twists because it’s impossible to discuss this movie without doing so. If you’re super-spoilerphobic bear that in mind. I will certainly not be revealing the ending and the great thing about pre-code movies is that you can never predict the endings.

Carol lives off her friends for a while and then becomes a kept woman. Mr Blainey (Hugh Herbert) isn’t really a monster but he’s paying her for services rendered and he expects her to render those services, which she obviously does.

Carol and Bill meet again, drift apart again, meet again.

Carol ends up working as a street prostitute. But there are more plots twists to come.

This movie is about as pre-code as a pre-code movie could get and then some. Once the Production Code started to be enforced in 1934 this movie could only have one possible ending. Carol would have to die to atone for her sins. She has committed no less than three major moral sins any one of which would require her to die under the Code.

But that’s not what happens here. This movie doesn’t just cheerfully ignore conventional moral codes, it confronts them head on. It even dares to suggest that the criminalisation of prostitution is far more evil than prostitution itself.

Carol is not presented as a bad woman. She does what she has to do. This movie even goes so far as to suggest that since she has very good reasons for her actions her flaunting of the traditional moral codes actually makes her a more truly moral person than those who enforce those rules.

Tallulah Bankhead had been a huge star on Broadway. Paramount signed her to a contract but her attempts to establish herself as a film star failed for various reasons. She’s a fine actress but she is a bit stagey and she does project a rather brittle persona. Paramount did not quite know how to use her. Faithless was made at MGM and clearly they weren’t sure how to use her either. Her career ended with two melodramas, this one and Devil and the Deep. Brittle social comedies might have been more her forte. Perhaps she should have been making the kinds of movies that Kay Francis made.

I suspect that Miss Bankhead’s problem is that she never found a director who knew how to utilise her unusual talents properly, the way Josef von Sternberg knew how to utilise Marlene Dietrich’s unusual talents. Bankhead made too many movies with second-rate directors. She did make a half-hearted attempt to return to movies in the 1940s and of course won acclaim for her performance in Alfred Hitchcock’s Lifeboat. Having said all that, on the whole I like her performance here.

It’s also interesting in that Carol really is a nasty spoilt bitch at the beginning but her personality change is convincing. She was a nasty spoilt bitch because she had zero actual life experience. When she gets some life experience she changes, which can happen. It’s called growing up.

I’m not a Robert Montgomery fan and this movie did not change my opinion.

Faithless works because it doesn’t pull its punches. It’s not afraid to show us the full range of the miseries and the desperation caused by the Depression, it’s not afraid to go full-bore melodrama and it’s not afraid to be extraordinary sexually frank even by pre-code movies. It has its flaws but it hits hard and it’s highly recommended.

I’ve reviewed a couple of other Tallulah Bankhead pre-code movies - Devil and the Deep (1932) and The Cheat (1931) - and they’re worth seeing.

The Long Wait (1954)

The Long Wait is a 1954 Mickey Spillane adaptation but it’s not a Mike Hammer film. Between 1947 and 1952 Spillane wrote half a dozen Mike Hammer books which sold in immense quantities. Spillane went on to be one of the biggest selling novelists in history.

And in 1951 he wrote the noir novel The Long Wait. I haven’t read the novel but apparently several structural changes were needed to make it work as a movie.

The movie opens with a guy getting smashed up when a car plummets down a hillside and bursts into flames. We will later find out that the guy, played by Anthony Quinn, is Johnny McBride. McBride ends up with severe burns to his hands and total amnesia.

He tries to make a new life for himself but he can’t settle down. He’s quick-tempered and brooding. Then he comes across a clue that suggests that he hails from a town named Lyncastle. He heads for Lyncastle in hopes of rediscovering his identity and his past.

This turns out to be a big mistake. Johnny didn’t know he was wanted for murder. He also didn’t know that a big-time racketeer named Servo wanted him dead.

He knows he has to find Vera. He doesn’t remember her but he does know that she was his girl in his old life.

He soon finds himself with way too many blondes in his life (of course some would say you can’t have too many dangerous blondes in your life). Any one of these blondes could be Vera. He doesn’t remember what Vera looked like.

All the blondes seem to like Johnny a lot. Blondes just seem to find him very attractive. Dames in general seem to find him very attractive. Of course Johnny is played by Anthony Quinn, an actor with plenty of charisma and animal magnetism, so we don’t find this too difficult to believe.

Johnny finds out a few things about that murder. He doesn’t know for sure whether he committed the murder or not but he’s starting to have a sneaking suspicion he may have been framed. Lyncastle isn’t quite the idyllic place it seems to be on the surface. Racketeer Servo owns almost the whole town. There’s endemic corruption.

People start shooting at Johnny, which naturally leads him to believe he’s on to something.

The plot is very contrived indeed. I don’t mind that too much. To me film noir is a bit like melodrama. It doesn’t deal with reality, but with a kind of heightened or exaggerated reality. In the world of film noir once fate decides to destroy a man there’s no escape and if some coincidences are needed to bring that about they can be accepted. The plot is contrived but it does come together at the end.

There’s enough in this movie to qualify it as a true film noir. An ambiguous protagonist caught in a web. A whole raft of femmes fatales. An atmosphere of existentialist angst. Corruption. And lots of sexual tension.

And visual style. There are some absolutely superb visual moments in this film, especially in the latter stages. There are some wonderful combinations of inventive staging and noirish lighting (by cinematographer Franz Planer). There are also nicely staged action sequences. The late scene in the abandoned power station is one of the best visual set-pieces in all of film noir. It really is magnificent.

Anthony Quinn has the necessary star quality and the right tough guy vibe. Peggie Castle is truly excellent as Venus, the most glamorous of the blondes. There’s an excellent supporting cast.

Victor Saville does a very very fine job as director. This is a supremely well-crafted movie.

For my money The Long Wait is the best film adaptation of a Mickey Spillane novel. Gripping, tightly plotted with some decent suspense, terrific atmosphere and lots of noirness. Very highly recommended.

The Classic Flix Blu-Ray release looks lovely. You get the movie on 4K as well - I have no interest in 4K so I’ll be using the 4K disc as a drinks coaster. But the Blu-Ray does look great. There’s an excellent audio commentary by Max Allan Collins.