How a Real-Life Prison Sentence Added Another Dimension to Mitchum's Performance as a Woozy Doctor on the Run in a Nightmarish Flight From Justice

Robert Mitchum, "Where Danger Lives" (1950).

By Paul Parcellin

This article contains spoilers

A lot of red flags should go up when Dr. Jeff Cameron (Robert Mitchum) meets Margo Lannington (Faith Domergue). But she’s a real dish and this is noir, so naturally he ignores the many warning signposts screaming at him that he’s about to drive over a cliff.

Margo is an emergency room case whom Jeff treats after a suicide attempt. There’s an instant attraction between the two and she persuades him to meet with her outside of the hospital. 

He ditches his steady girl, nurse Julie Dorn (Maureen O’Sullivan, wife of the film’s director John Farrow), for the more exciting, emotionally scarred rich one. As bad decisions go, this is a whopper and it’s all but impossible to stop watching the impending train wreck take shape. 

In the first part of the movie Jeff is smitten with Margo, and he at least still has his wits about him. A little later he’s smitten again — this time literally. He suffers a concussion and it doesn’t improve his judgment, but it explains why the level-headed physician would fail to see that his newfound love is an erratic maniac. 

She lives with her rich dad (Claude Rains) — that’s what she tells him, at least — and is financially dependent on the infirm old geezer. She and pop reside in a swell mansion and when Jeff stops by for a visit he’s surprised by the opulence but isn’t impressed with it. Money isn’t so important to him, and it’s evident that his infatuation with Margo is taking up a lot of real estate is his brain. 

But things start going sour. He gets into a scuffle, gets clocked on the head with a fireplace poker that puts him in a fitful stupor, his judgment deteriorating — clearly something he doesn’t need. Soon, he’s in the kind of trouble that only femmes fatale can get a fellow into and he and his new lady friend go on the run as fugitives from justice.

Mitchum, Faith Domergue, dazed and confused.

The nightmarish scenario in which he’s trapped is a classic noir trope. He’s the average guy who unexpectedly plunges into a hellish abyss. Mitchum brings his every-man persona to this doctor who’s torn between the straight life and the rush of staying one step ahead of the law. 

Maybe the same could be said about Mitchum, although living strictly on the straight and narrow didn’t much appeal to him. In 1948 he was busted for possession of marijuana, a pretty big deal back then, and he served prison time not so long before shooting this film. The ex-jailbird at first thought that his career was over. But his boss at RKO, Howard Hughes, stuck by him and ignored the voices wanting to cancel the controversial actor. It turns out the publicity actually enhanced his career and this role is but one example of why a pot bust turned into a plus for bad boy Mitchum.

Audiences in 1950 must have sensed that Mitchum brings an essential element of danger to a character who might have otherwise come across as too straitlaced. He did that before the pot bust, too, but by the time the film came out that image was fresh in the public’s mind. It’s not hard to believe that, given the opportunity, Jeff is the kind of guy who just might take up with a dangerous woman like Margo. Maybe his attraction to her is due in part to his doctorly instincts to heal the afflicted. But with his guard down he morphs into a moth drawn to the flame — and his distorted powers of reasoning aren’t helping him see the follies of his ways, either.

Once on the road together, both he and she suffer from bouts of paranoia. Every cop they see is out to get them; people everywhere have them pegged as fugitives from justice. They stumble upon police at the airport, get spooked and hot foot it back to the highway. When they come upon a roadblock they assume it’s a dragnet set to capture them, so they make a U-turn and barrel off in another direction.

Typical of their muddled way of thinking, they opt to dump her expensive auto to a cliche of a used car dealer, as if that would throw the police off their trail. The used car jockey wears a houndstooth sport jacket with mis-matched patterned shirt and tie that are fighting a bloody war against each other. He gets a twinkle in his eye, seeing that the two are desperate and will make easy pickings for a chiseler such as himself, and he promptly fleeces the two pigeons.

They move onward, but try as they might it becomes apparent that they’re playing a losing game. Despite his injuries, Jeff is still thinking clearly enough to realize that his condition is deteriorating, so their mission turns into a dash for the Mexican border in hope of making it before he expires. 

For her part in this fiasco, Margo plays it cool, but a few stunning revelations about her eventually come to light. Like most noir anti-heroes, Jeff comes to the hard, cold facts a bit too late to slow down his inevitable trudge toward the gates of hell. 

We’re left to ponder whether Jeff’s misadventures are due to fate simply paying him back for callously leaving his girl back home. As paybacks go, that one exacts a rather high price. Something like prison time for smoking a reefer.

 

Ripped From the Headlines, Part III: True Stories About Dangerous Characters, Corrupt Officials and Gangs of Criminals Who Hold the Public at Bay

John Dall, Peggy Cummins, “Gun Crazy” (1950).

By Paul Parcellin

It only takes a couple of desperate, determined outsiders with a gun to start a crime wave. At times, a single perpetrator can do the work of two — or more. That’s what happens in several of the films based on true stories that make up this, the third and final part of the True Crime Noir series. Many more films could have been added to the roundup, and we may look at some of those at a later date. 

Included here, among bonafide noir fare, is a neo-noir. Some might say that the neo-noir movement/genre/style (or what have you) begins in the 1970s — to that sort of hair splitting I say, “Balderdash!” A film’s mood, story and message are the determining factors that tell us if it’s a noir, neo-noir, or something else. Therefore, the last film mentioned in this essay is decidedly noir despite its 1960s pedigree. Besides, it was shot in glorious black and white.

So, here is another handful of films based on true crimes. Some show how politics, corruption and unbridled malevolence conspire to unleash a wave of terror upon an unsuspecting public. And they often leave us with a picture that is unsettling, to say the least.

Some spoilers are scattered throughout, so you might want to see the films before reading the article. 

Peggy Cummins, John Dall, “Gun Crazy.”

“Gun Crazy” (1950)

The film “Gun Crazy” (1950) is not based on a single specific true story, but it is inspired by a number of real-life cases of couples who went on crime sprees.

One of the most famous cases is that of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, who were active in the 1930s. The young couple robbed banks and other businesses, and became folk heroes to some. Director Arthur Penn made “Bonnie and Clyde” (1967), a hugely successful adaptation of the larcenous pair’s story that helped open the door to Hollywood’s golden age of the 1970s.

The case of Raymond Fernandez and Martha Beck, known as the "Lonely Hearts Killers" also inspired “Gun Crazy.” The pair met through a lonely hearts club, began a relationship and went on a crime spree, killing several victims. Their story was later made into the film, The Honeymoon Killers (1970).

“Gun Crazy” also draws inspiration from the life of George "Machine Gun" Kelly, a notorious gangster who was active in the 1930s. Kelly was known for his love of guns, and he was eventually arrested and convicted of murder. 

A cautionary tale, “Gun Crazy” warns against the dangers of all-consuming obsession. The trigger-happy Bart Tare (John Dall) and sideshow sharpshooter Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins) are both obsessed with firearms and are willing to do anything to get their hands on them. The doomed couple’s string of armed robberies leads them to commit murder, and finally, they come to a violent end.

The film is seen by some as a critique of American culture and the glorification of violence and guns. “Gun Crazy” is highly appreciated for the cinematic craft employed to make such an impressive and durable cinematic work that was shot for comparatively little money. One of the standout scenes is that of a holdup. Director Joseph H. Lewis positioned a camera in the back seat of the getaway car and shot a long take of the robbers making their escape. The creative camera placement influenced many directors. Quentin Tarantino has said that “Gun Crazy” is one of his favorite films and has cited it as an influence on his films “Reservoir Dogs” (1992) and “Pulp Fiction” (1994). Martin Scorsese has also cited “Gun Crazy” as an influence, and has said that he was inspired by the film's stylish cinematography and its depiction of violence.

Dana Andrews, “Boomerang!”

“Boomerang!” (1947)

“Boomerang!” is based on the true story of Harold Israel, a 20-year-old army veteran who was accused of the 1924 murder of a priest in Bridgeport, Conn. In the film, Assistant District Attorney Thomas B. Wade (Dana Andrews) is assigned to prosecute Israel, renamed John Waldron (Arthur Kennedy) in the film.

The real case began on the night of Feb. 25, 1924, when the Rev. Hubert Dahme, a popular parish priest, was shot and killed on a busy street corner in downtown Bridgeport. The police quickly arrested Israel, 22, who had a history of petty crime. He confessed to the murder, but later recanted, claiming that he had been coerced by the police.

The prosecution's case against Israel was circumstantial. There were no eyewitnesses to the murder, and the only physical evidence linking Israel to the crime was a gun that was found near the scene of the crime. However, the gun had not been fired, and there was no way to prove that it was the murder weapon. Israel’s confession came after a long police interview. The accused said he confessed because he wanted the grueling interrogation to end.

The defense argued that Israel was innocent and that he had been framed by the police. They pointed out that Israel had no motive for the murder, and that he had no history of violence.

Homer Cummings, state attorney for Fairfield County, said that the case against Israel looked perfect. But on May 27, 1924, just 15 weeks after authorities charged Israel, Cummings walked into a Bridgeport courtroom and shocked everyone present by declaring the murder charges against Israel would be dropped. Cummings, after meticulously reviewing the case against Israel, found it seriously flawed.

In the film, we see the machinations of corruption taking place behind the scenes. Those with political ambitions vigorously sought a conviction. One well-placed official involved in a crooked land deal is desperate to cover that up. A guilty verdict would ensure that the right people stay in power and shield him from prosecution.

Wishing to avoid negative publicity, Bridgeport, Conn., officials refused to let director Elia Kazan film in that city, where the crime took place. Instead, Stamford, Conn., stood in for Bridgeport. The film won two Academy Awards: Best Writing (Original Screenplay) for Richard Murphy and Best Supporting Actor for Karl Malden. 

Frank Lovejoy, William Talman, Edmond O'Brien, “The Hitch-Hiker.”

“The Hitch-Hiker” (1953)

In 1950, Billy Cook murdered a family of five and a traveling salesman, then kidnapped Deputy Sheriff Homer Waldrip from Blythe, Calif. Cook ordered his captive to drive deep into the desert, where he bound him with blanket strips and took his police cruiser, leaving Waldrip to die. Waldrip got loose, however, walked to the main road, and got a ride back to Blythe. Cook also took hostage two men who were on a hunting trip.

“The Hitch-Hiker” is based on that real-life murder spree. The film follows the story of two friends, Roy Collins (Edmond O'Brien) and Gilbert Bowen (Frank Lovejoy), who are on their way to Mexico for a fishing trip. They pick up a hitchhiker, Emmett Myers (William Talman), who turns out to be a dangerous psychopath. Myers forces the men to drive him to Mexico, and along the way, he murders a gas station attendant and a police officer.

The film, a suspenseful thriller, explores themes such as fear, paranoia, and the dark side of human nature. Ida Lupino, one of the few female directors working in Hollywood at the time, helmed this film and co-wrote the screenplay. She brought a unique perspective to the film, exploring the characters’ psychology and the dynamics of the relationship between the two friends.

“The Hitch-Hiker” was a critical and commercial success and it is considered one of the more thrilling and well-crafted noirs. Solid performances by O'Brien, Lovejoy, and Talman, as well as Lupino’s hard-hitting direction make it stand out in the pantheon of American noir.

The film is also notable for its realistic depiction of violence — the murders are graphic and disturbing, and they reflect the brutality of Cook's real-life crimes.

John Larch, Edward Andrews, “The Phenix City Story.”

"The Phenix City Story” (1955) 

True events surrounding the rampant corruption and organized crime that plagued Phenix City, Alabama, during the mid-20th century were inspiration for “The Phenix City Story.”

Set in the 1950s, the film paints a disquieting picture of a town beset by illegal gambling, prostitution, and political corruption. The story follows courageous local attorney Albert Patterson (John McIntire), who stands up to the powerful criminal syndicate that holds Phenix City in a hammerlock. Patterson's resolve to clean up the city and bring justice to the community drives the suspenseful narrative forward.

The real Phenix City was a den of corruption during this era. The town had earned a notorious reputation as a haven for criminal enterprises, attracting a range of illicit activities that were openly operated by the underworld. The film accurately captures the climate of fear and intimidation that pervaded the city, with citizens and officials alike living in constant danger.

The turning point in the true story, as depicted in the film, came with the assassination of Albert Patterson in 1954. His murder shocked the nation and galvanized public opinion against the criminal elements controlling Phenix City. Patterson's tragic death led to a massive outcry for reform and an end to the corruption that had plagued the town for years.

The subsequent events that unfolded closely mirror the events depicted in the film. The Alabama National Guard was brought in to restore order, and a determined effort was made to rout out and prosecute those responsible for the criminal activities. A series of trials resulted in numerous convictions, dealing a significant blow to the criminal syndicate.

Robert Blake, Scott Wilson, “In Cold Blood.”

“In Cold Blood” (1967)

“In Cold Blood” is a fictionalized account of the true story of the Clutter family murders, which took place in Holcomb, Kansas, in 1959. 

The film stars Robert Blake as Perry Smith and Scott Wilson as Richard "Dick" Hickock, two ex-convicts who rob and murder the Clutter family.

The real-life events that inspired the film began on Nov. 15, 1959, when Herb and Bonnie Clutter, their teenage daughter Nancy and their 15-year-old son Kenyon were found brutally murdered in their home. The Clutters had been shot and stabbed to death, and their bodies had been mutilated.

Hickock and Smith had been planning the robbery for months. They believed that the Clutters kept a large amount of cash in their home, and thought that the robbery would be easy. However, murder was not part of the plan. Hickock and Smith killed the Clutters in a fit of rage after they discovered that the family did not have as much money as they had thought.

The murderous duo were eventually arrested and convicted of the homicides. They were both sentenced to death and were executed in 1965.

The film's protagonist, Perry Smith, is a complex and troubled character who is struggling with his own demons. Although he comes off as a sympathetic character, he’s also capable of great violence. In time, we see what circumstances in their younger lives brought the two killers to their fate. We may not sympathize with them, but we understand how they came to follow such a destructive path. In the end, Smith says he wants to apologize for his crimes. Tragically, the victims are all deceased and there’s no one left to hear his words of contrition. 

“In Cold Blood” was praised for its realism and its psychological insights. It also helped raise awareness of issues surrounding crime and violence in America.

The Clutter family murders, one of the most notorious crimes in American history, were the subject of a best-selling non-fiction book by Truman Capote, who spent several years researching the case.

The Richard Brooks directed film was praised for its realism and insight into the killers’ psychological motivations. It serves as a disturbing reminder that those who are driven by their inner demons may be capable of committing acts of unspeakable horror.

You can also read Ripped From the Headlines Part I and Part II. 

Ripped From the Headlines, Part II: A Feast of Murder, Robbery and Exploitation

Cecil Kellaway, John Garfield, Lana Turner,
“The Postman Always Rings Twice” (1946).

By Paul Parcellin

As you’ve probably gathered by now, the 1940s and ’50s saw a bumper crop of sensational tales ready-made for the screen. It was an era when Hollywood greedily harvested stories from news tabloids' front pages.  

In the last post, we looked at noirs that were inspired by true crime stories, and here’s a second helping of the same — those fact-based films that translated, and perhaps reshaped, crime stories that captured the public’s imagination. 

Murder, grand larceny, police corruption, along with the news media running amok, obsessed with chasing down the latest hot item, are integral parts of the movies listed below. 

Although these noirs tell tawdry tales it doesn’t mean they all came directly from scandal sheets. Fact-based novels are also a frequent source of inspiration for crime films. Movies based on books by celebrated American authors James M. Cain and Theodore Dreiser make the list, as well.

Lana Turner, Leon Ames, John Garfield,
“The Postman Always Rings Twice.”

“The Postman Always Rings Twice” (1946)

In “The Postman Always Rings Twice,” drifter Frank Chambers (John Garfield) falls in love with Cora Smith (Lana Turner), the wife of a middle-aged businessman Nick Smith (Cecil Kellaway). 

Frank has a checkered past. He can be charming and charismatic, but is also impulsive and reckless. Cora is a beautiful and sensual woman who is trapped in a loveless marriage. She’s ambitious and willing to do whatever it takes to escape her situation. Nick, the wealthy businessman, is cold and controlling. He is a possessive husband who is suspicious of Cora's relationship with Frank.

Frank and Cora conspire to kill Nick and collect his insurance money, but their plan goes awry.

The dialogue in “The Postman Always Rings Twice” is sharp and witty. The characters speak in quick, clipped sentences and their words often have double meanings, creating a sense of tension and suspense. The viewer never quite knows what the characters are really thinking or feeling. 

Like the dialog, the title itself is a bit of a poetic riddle. It suggests that fate may play a role in our lives, and that we cannot escape our destiny. Frank and Cora receive delayed punishment for their crimes. The postman, representing justice, rings once and that may be ignored. But fate will step in to ensure that the second will be answered. Just as Frank and Cora are fated to commit murder, their destiny demands that they will pay for their misdeeds. 

Part I of this three-part post talks about “Double Indemnity” (1944), which was adapted from the 1943 James M. Cain novel of the same title. The film “The Postman Always Rings Twice” (1946) was adapted from Cain’s 1934 novel. Both novels used the same true-crime source material, although “Postman” wasn’t based on a single true story, but was inspired by several real-life cases. As a journalist for the Baltimore Sun in the 1920s, Cain covered a number of sensational trials and got a firsthand look at the dark side of human nature. He would later incorporate his observations into his fiction.

The 1927 murder of Albert Snyder by his wife Ruth Brown Snyder and her lover, Judd Gray served as source material for both Cain novels. Snyder and Gray were both convicted of the murder and sentenced to death.

Another possible source of inspiration for the “Postman” novel was the 1932 murder of waitress Agnes LeRoi, 32, by her husband, Albert, a truck driver with a history of violence. He had an assault and battery conviction and Agnes accused him of domestic violence on several occasions.

On the night of the murder, Albert and Agnes were arguing in their Los Angeles home when Albert became enraged and strangled Agnes. In an effort to make it appear to be an accident, he staged the crime scene to look like a robbery. However, police quickly determined that it was a murder and he was arrested.

Albert was convicted of first-degree murder, was sentenced to death and was executed in the gas chamber at San Quentin State Prison in 1933.

Walter Sande, Montgomery Clift, Fred Clark, “A Place in the Sun” (1951).

"A Place in the Sun" (1951)

Based on Theodore Dreiser's novel "An American Tragedy,” the film and book were inspired by the true homicide case of Chester Gillette, who was convicted of murdering Grace Brown in 1906. 

The Gillette case began July 19, 1906, when Brown's body was found floating in Big Moose Lake in New York. Brown had been strangled and her body was weighted down with stones.

Gillette was a 20-year-old factory worker who had been having an affair with Brown. Brown was pregnant with Gillette's child, and Gillette promised to marry her. However, he was also involved with another woman, Eleanor Mills, who was from a wealthy family.

Gillette and Brown went on a boat trip together on Big Moose Lake. During the trip, Gillette strangled Brown and threw her body overboard. Gillette then returned to Mills and told her that Brown had left him.

Gillette was eventually arrested and charged with Brown's murder. He was found guilty, sentenced to death and was executed in the electric chair in 1908.

The film “A Place in the Sun” stars Montgomery Clift as George Eastman, the character based on Gillette. Eastman, a poor young man is entangled with two women: Alice Tripp (Shelley Winters), who works in her wealthy uncle's factory, and the other, beautiful socialite Angela Vickers (Elizabeth Taylor). Eastman murders Tripp, and the film explores the consequences of his actions.

The film was a critical and commercial success and it won six Academy Awards, including Best Picture. George Stevens won the Best Director award for the film.

“A Place in the Sun” takes a hard look at Eastman’s obsession with social mobility and the lengths to which he will go in order to achieve it. In the end, his desperate pursuit of The American Dream brings about his downfall.

Kirk Douglas, “Ace in the Hole” (1951).

"Ace in the Hole" (1951)

“Ace in the Hole” is a fictionalized account of the true story of Floyd Collins, 37, who was trapped inside Sand Cave, Kentucky, following a landslide in 1925.

The real-life events that inspired the film began on Jan. 30, 1925, when Collins was exploring Sand Cave and a rockslide trapped him underground. Collins was only about 150 feet from the cave's entrance, but was unable to free himself.

The news of Collins's plight spread quickly, and soon reporters from all over the country descended on the small town. News hawks camped out near the cave and competed for the most sensational coverage.

Collins's family and friends were hopeful that he would be rescued, but the days turned into weeks, and his chances of survival began to dwindle. Meanwhile, the reporters continued to exploit the story and Collins's plight became a national media circus.

Trapped in Sand Cave for 18 days, Collins died of starvation and exposure on Feb. 16, 1925. His death was a national tragedy, but it also exposed the dark side of a highly exploitive media.

The film “Ace in the Hole,” directed by Billy Wilder, fictionalizes Collins’s grim story. The protagonist, Chuck Tatum (Kirk Douglas), is willing to do anything to get a big story, and in doing so he exploits the plight of the trapped man, renamed Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict) in the film. That Tatum is so deeply concerned with his own personal gain is stunning and almost laughable — he embodies our darkest fears about the news media, showing us he couldn’t care less about Minosa's survival.

The film was a critical and commercial success, and it was praised for its dark humor and sharp social commentary, hitting hard at media exploitation.

Jack Elam, John Payne, “Kansas City Confidential” (1952).

"Kansas City Confidential" (1952)

“Kansas City Confidential” is a fictionalized account of an armored car robbery that took place in Kansas City, Missouri, in 1950. The film stars John Payne as Joe Rolfe, an ordinary man who is framed for the robbery by a group of corrupt cops.

The events that inspired the film began on Feb. 13, 1950, when an armored car was robbed of $1.2 million in cash and bonds in Kansas City. Four men were arrested for the robbery but were all acquitted at trial. The cops who were suspected of being involved in the robbery were never charged. However, there is evidence that they took part in this and other criminal activities.

One of the acquitted men, small-time gambler and hoodlum Tony Romano, claimed that he was framed by the police. He claimed to know the names of the real robbers, but refused to testify against them because he feared for his life.

In the film’s fictionalized account of the story, Joe Rolfe, a mild-mannered delivery driver is framed for the armored car robbery by a group of corrupt cops. Rolfe is eventually cleared of the charges, but he is left with a deep sense of injustice.

The film, directed by Phil Karlson, who created a string of powerful noirs in the 1950s, was praised for its gritty realism and suspenseful plot. The film also helped raise awareness of the issue of corruption in among law enforcement officers.

You can also read Noir True Crimes Part I and Part III.

He Directed Gripping Noirs … But You May Not Recognize His Name

John Payne, Lee Van Cleef, Neville Brand,
Preston Foster,  "Kansas City Confidential" (1952).

By Paul Parcellin

Everything seemed to come together for Phil Karlson in the 1950s. It was an era in which his talent, energy and unique sensibilities were made to order for a  public with an insatiable appetite for raw, gritty crime films. It was in that period that he directed some of the decade’s most essential noirs. Prior to that he’d cranked out dozens of titles beginning in the mid 1940s under the banners of Monogram (he shot several Bowery Boys and Charlie Chan films there), Eagle-Lion and other Poverty Row operations. Some might remember his two lightweight spy spoofs of later years, “The Silencers” (1966) and “The Wrecking Crew” (1968), both starring Dean Martin — although, he’d probably wish that you wouldn’t. He continued to work over several decades but didn’t strike pay dirt until the release of his revenge fantasy “Walking Tall” (1973). It was his biggest and most commercially successful film and it made him rich. Otherwise, he was mostly mired in the B-movie bush league for the remainder of his career. 

But two decades before “Walking Tall,” the Chicago-born Karlson began work on a string of crime movies that would influence future generations of filmmakers.

His uncompromising narratives, short, action filled scenes and great attention to detail helped pave the way for filmmakers seeking to challenge the traditional Hollywood conventions and explore the darker aspects of human nature. Directors such as Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, and John Woo have all acknowledged his impact on their own filmmaking careers. Scorsese, in particular, cited Karlson's "The Phenix City Story" (1955) as a major inspiration for his seminal film "Mean Streets" (1973).

Karlson grew up in a working-class family in Chicago and developed an affinity for storytelling and filmmaking at a young age. He attended local film screenings and immersed himself in the world of cinema. His passion eventually led him to pursue a career in the film industry. While studying law he got a job as a prop man at Universal Studios to make ends meet during the Great Depression.

Phil Karlson.

In the 1930s he began working as an editor for various film studios. It was during this time that he gained invaluable experience and insights into the technical aspects of filmmaking. This early exposure would shape his later directorial style and attention to detail.

As Karlson parlayed his editing experience into directing gigs, he brought a distinct sensibility to his films. His works often explore the dark underbelly of society and tell their stories in a blunt, no-nonsense manner that avoids extravagant visuals and focuses on raw emotional impact.

One of the defining themes in his films is the exploration of crime and its consequences. He had a keen eye for depicting the complexities of human nature, delving into the psychological motivations of his characters. This was exemplified in films like "Kansas City Confidential" (1952) and "99 River Street" (1953), where he portrayed flawed protagonists grappling with the consequences of their actions.

Karlson had a knack for working with actors and bringing out their best performances. He had a successful partnership with actor John Payne, with whom he collaborated on multiple projects. In addition to his noirs, he worked on a variety of movie genres: romances, comedies, musicals, westerns and war pictures. But it’s his influential noirs, shot between 1952-’57, that inspired new generations of directors making crime films. Here’s a rundown of his work:

"Kansas City Confidential" (1952).

Kansas City Confidential

A masked gang of armored car robbers, identities hidden from each other, frame delivery driver Joe Rolfe (John Payne) for their crime. But Rolfe trails them to their rendezvous point, intending to infiltrate the crew and bust them up. A taut caper followed by a well-paced contest of nerves among desperate characters. Note that the story unfolds in a virtual cloud of smoke. In nearly every scene cigarettes, pipes and cigars are nervously, thoughtfully and dramatically lit and puffed on — a sure sign that we’re watching noir. Tarantino’s “Reservoir Dogs” (1992) is thought to be inspired in part by “Kansas City Confidential.”

John Derek, Broderick Crawford, "Scandal Sheet" (1952).

Scandal Sheet

Newspaperman Mark Chapman (Broderick Crawford) has a past he'd like to forget but his wife won't allow it. He gets into a bind and his reporters begin nipping at his heels — they don't know that the boss is the one they're chasing. Based on a Samuel Fuller novel, “Scandal Sheet” is all about making it big by printing the sleaziest rag in town. News hacks come within millimeters of breaking the law just to get a sensational story. Everyone’s fueled on adrenaline, booze and black coffee, talking at a fast clip and firing off wise-guy rejoinders. Chapman’s paper sponsors a lonely hearts soiree. The cynical, exploitive idea behind the parties is to corner a pair of lovebirds who just met and get them to tie the knot in front of the crowd. Meanwhile, a bit of Chapman’s dirty laundry may be about to be aired and it won’t be pretty. 

Jack Lambert, John Payne, "99 River Street" (1953).

99 River St.

Punched out boxer Ernie Driscoll (John Payne) takes a beating in and out of the ring in "99 River Street." A former heavyweight contender, he drives a cab and is as a doormat for nearly every bully he meets. When his girl turns up dead it looks like he's going to take the fall. As in “Kansas City Confidential,” Payne plays another falsely accused outsider who has been dealt a rotten hand and must redeem himself in society’s eyes. Panned by the New York Times when it was released, the film received more favorable favorable treatment in later years. Martin Scorsese and film critic Jonathan Rosenbaum both chose to include “99 River Street” on lists of best and favorite films.

John McIntire, "The Phenix City Story" (1955). 

The Phenix City Story

Crime and vice majordomo Rhett Tanner (Edward Andrews) has a corrupt Alabama town under his thumb. Local mouthpiece Pat Patterson is urged to run for the A.G. seat, but who wants that job? When violence visits the reformers he reconsiders his neutral position. But the mob doesn’t take kindly to the threat of a law and order attorney general in their midst. Based on a true story, “The Phenix City Story” portrays the struggles of honest folks who wrestle with their conscience and decide to take positive steps despite the threat of violence to themselves and their families. Ever the stickler for detail, Karlson had his actor wear the clothes belonging to the murder victim on whom the story is based. 

William Conrad, Brian Keith, "5 Against the House" (1955).

5 Against the House

Korean War veterans studying at college decide to rob a casino as a lark. Ronnie (Kerwin Mathews), a rich kid who doesn’t need the money, wants to prove he’s smart enough to mastermind the perfect crime. It’s all just a prank by overgrown school boys — they plan to leave the stolen loot where the casino can recover it. But Brick (Brian Keith), who suffered a head wound in the war, is a wild card in this shaky caper. The rest of the gang is in various stages of arrested development, picking up where they left off before trudging off to Korea. But they soon find that swiping a casino’s money is not mere fun and games.

Ginger Rogers, Brian Keith,
Edward G. Robinson, "Tight Spot" (1955).

Tight Spot

U.S. attorney Lloyd Hallett (Edward G. Robinson) offers good-girl inmate Sherry Conley (Ginger Rogers) a chance to bust out if she finks on a mobster. Lt. Vince Striker (Brian Keith) acts as her bodyguard — and soon things heat up between them. Rogers gets the chance to play against type in the role of Sherry, the brassy, fast talking blonde trying to get all she can from the prosecutor who wants her testimony. It’s a risky ploy for her. The last witness never made it to the courtroom, and odds are that Sherry won’t do much better. Call this one a noir with a hint of screwball comedy.  

Richard Conte, Patricia Donahue, Jane Easton, 
Richard Bakalyan, "The Brothers Rico" (1957).

The Brothers Rico

The happily married Eddie Rico (Richard Conte) owns a laundry business in Florida and seems to have the world on a string. But his past connection to organized crime as well as family ties threaten to pull him back into the syndicate. A gangster demands that he provide a hideout for a syndicate hitman. Worse news, still, Eddie learns that his two brothers, Johnny (James Darren) and Gino (Paul Picerni), both of whom are still involved with the mob, have disappeared. Prolific Belgian novelist Georges Simenon wrote the book on which the film is based. Studio executives finessed the novel’s downbeat ending and tacked on a happier conclusion, much to the disappointment of the author’s fans and to Karlson, too.

 By the time that “The Brothers Rico” came to the screen it was near the end of the road for the classic noir era. The following year Orson Welles would release “Touch of Evil” (1958), which many consider the final classic noir. Karlson continued to direct films and television thereafter but never equalled the level of artistic excellence he achieved in the 1950s. Still, his handful of films noir made a mark on the genre and continue to influence today’s filmmakers.

One Step Beyond: Film Noir and the Supernatural

Edward G. Robinson, 'Night Has a Thousand Eyes' (1948).

We can all daydream of possessing special powers, because who wouldn’t want greater insight into their life and extraordinary abilities to manipulate the hands of fate? But if there’s one thing that speculative fiction teaches us is that supernatural powers — mind reading, communicating with the dead and other such phenomena — all come with a steep price tag. 

That’s certainly true for mentalist John Triton (Edward G. Robinson) in “Night Has a Thousand Eyes” (1948). He describes his ability to see into the future as something like travel aboard a train. A passenger might see a farmhouse, then a field of corn followed by a pasture of grazing cows. But someone standing on the train’s roof can see all three motifs in one glance. And for better or worse Triton is one who stands atop his own train car as it barrels through the countryside.

That may sounds enticing to some — certainly not to me. But what if those supernatural powers bring about little more than misery and alienation from the people you care about most? That’s a common theme in “supernatural noir,” a blend of film noir and supernatural fiction, two genres that fit together like a dovetail joint. 

In noir, a protagonist is usually alienated from his or her environment and faces crushing circumstances that threaten their very existence. Add unpredictable supernatural forces into the mix and a noir anti-hero gets a double whammy of everyday and otherworldly forces that mean trouble — a dark place to find oneself, indeed. 

As Al Roberts (Tom Neal), the beaten down piano player in "Detour" (1945) says, "Whichever way you turn, fate sticks out a foot to trip you." Noir anti-heroes are destined for failure, and the supernatural  works hand in hand with fate to bring about the flawed character's inevitable downfall.

“Night Has a Thousand Eyes” is one of those noir-tinged leaps into the realm of speculative fiction that in shortened form would fit comfortably in “The Twilight Zone” (1959 - 1964) TV series. Speaking of which, aren’t a lot of “Twilight Zone” episodes especially noir-like?

John Lund, Gail Russell, Edward G. Robinson.

A Charlatan Becomes a Psychic 

It’s odd and somehow fitting that vaudeville mentalist Triton should be gifted with the power to see the future. He’s a fairly successful entertainer with a phony mind reading act who, for unknown reasons, develops supernatural powers. It’s as if  he offended the gods by pretending to be clairvoyant and they are taking revenge by bestowing on him the psychic foresight he’d been faking. Now, he must bear the torment of foreseeing tragic accidents and deaths that befall people around him. That includes not only strangers but also almost everyone in his inner circle. Once it becomes obvious to him that he’s cursed with horrifying powers he begins to wonder whether he’s simply predicting these deaths, or could it be that he’s somehow making them happen? 

Of course, it’s not just tragedy that he foresees. He picks winning racehorses for his piano accompanist and buddy Whitney Courtland (Jerome Cowan) who thinks Triton’s new abilities are just swell. Early on, his powers seem to be a blessing. He helps save the life of a young boy playing with matches who sets his bed afire. But thereafter his predictions grow increasingly grim and depressingly accurate. 

He exists in an existential no man’s land where his “gift” can bring great riches or somehow trigger death and he has little control over which of the two his visions will bring about. Faced with this crisis, he stops using his powers to pick winning racehorses or juicy business opportunities — by and by, Courtland becomes a rich man due to Triton’s psychic insight.

In one of his flashes of foresight he sees doom, and in a panic he abandons his fiancée (Virginia Bruce) and Courtland with no explanation. The only chance of avoiding tragedy, he believes, is to leave and never return. Holed up in a seedy Bunker Hill tenement in downtown Los Angeles, he goes into self-imposed isolation. His room overlooks the Angels Flight funicular that chugs up and down the steep incline. Likewise, he moves through his days with a mechanical repetitiveness, avoiding human contact for it can only bring about tragedy and heartache. 

When finally an opportunity for redemption arrives, it comes wrapped in impending tragedy, so at best Triton can save a life, but in doing so his actions will exact a great cost to himself.

Sidebar:

There’s a handful of noirs with a supernatural theme running through them. They include “Alias Nick Beal,” “Night Tide,” and “Ministry of Fear,” to mention a few — I’m sure there are more. What others am I missing? 

Some, like “Dementia,” "The Seventh Victim" and “Cat People” combine elements of horror, film noir and expressionism. More about them in my next post.

Jazz Mania: Film Noir, Bebop and the Devil’s Music

Elisha Cook Jr., 'Phantom Lady' (1944)

You might be surprised to learn that jazz didn’t show up in film noir right away even though by the 1940s swing was part of the popular music landscape and bebop was well on its way to becoming a solid American art form. But you wouldn’t know it by watching “The Maltese Falcon” and other early noir offerings. 

The fact is, initially at least, film noir producers didn’t seem to dig that style of freewheeling music. Typically, they played it safe, sticking with traditional orchestral arrangements instead of cool improvisational compositions played by hip bands and small combos. In short, when it came to music, Hollywood establishment cats were squares.

A couple of noir films finally presented a scene or two of jazz musicians doing their thing, but in both cases the music serves as a backdrop that fairly drips of sex, drugs, crime and madness — in other words, good, if overheated, material for a crime drama, but unflattering to the musical genre itself.

Ella Raines, Elisha Cook Jr., "Phantom Lady"

For openers, “Phantom Lady” (1944) offers a strange, mesmerizing view of an impromptu basement jam session. It may not have been jazz’s first appearance in noir, but it sticks in the memory. 

Based on the Cornell Woolrich novel of the same title, “Phantom Lady”  is a nightmarish odyssey that takes place over a single night. The story involves a woman’s hat, which becomes the object of an obsessive hunt that leads to run-ins with dangerous characters in shadowy corners of an unforgiving urban sprawl. 

Carol Richman (Ella Raines) crosses paths with Cliff (Elisha Cook Jr.), the drummer in a pit orchestra. They flirt and he brings her to an after hours jam session. Cliff sits in with the other musicians and the scene’s centerpiece is his drum solo, a performance that is a none-too-subtle expression of sexual  desire — Cliff is the one whose temperature rises to the boiling point, while Carol plays along in hope of getting vital information from him. 

He pounds out a frenzied solo on a trap set, his maniacal, leering expression, aimed at Carol, registers a 10 on the creep meter. Cliff later figures out that Carol has been leading him on and she splits before there’s any trouble, leaving Cliff to catch his breath and take a cold shower.

Then there’s the nightclub scene in “D.O.A.” (1949), which gives us a cartoonish rendition of both jazz and the kookie audience that grooves on the stuff. 

Frank Gerstle, Edmond O'Brien, 'D.O.A.' (1949)

Above all else, “D.O.A.” is a sobering, paranoid meditation on nuclear radiation’s deadly effects on the human race, and the pitfalls of self-absorption and hedonism. Small-town accountant Frank Bigelow (Edmond O’Brien) comes to the big city and by chance meets a bunch of traveling salesmen and their lady companions who are all staying at his hotel. They persuade him to come to a bar and it turns out to be a hipster scene. 

Frank, a bit of a square, came to San Francisco to let his hair down before making up his mind whether or not to propose to his sweetheart back home. So he’s tantalized to check out this pre-beatnik era hangout for the bohemian set. He mingles with a lady at the bar and makes a date to meet her later that night. All the while a jazz combo is blowing up a storm on the bandstand. The excitement builds until the musicians and the crowd are in a frenzied state. The nightclub practically levitates as both the band and club patrons get caught up in the frenzied beat to the point of madness. 

The bartender, inured to the cacophony, shrugs it off. They’re “jive crazy," he says. "That means they go for this stuff.”

Frank doesn’t much understand the hipster crowd, but it looks like he’s gotten lucky, and that plus the booze are clouding his better judgment. He’s too distracted to pay much attention to the man slipping something into his drink. He takes a big sip of his tainted cocktail and things start to go sideways.

Swinging in San Francisco, 'D.O.A.'

Like the scene in “Phantom Lady,” an infectious rhythm dominates the action like a swift current carrying small crafts toward the edge of a waterfall. Both films seem to be saying that jazz is not only background music for bad behavior, it’s perhaps a catalyst for it. And while both scenes border on self parody, they are oddly striking, maybe even iconic. 

The action and cross-cutting is thrilling and mind-bending. The hyped-up, cartoonish performances may not be an accurate depiction of how real jazz is played — although, of the two, “Phantom Lady” comes closer to the real McCoy — but in each case the music becomes a powerful antagonistic force that tests the heroes’ mettle. Personally speaking, those are two gigs that I wouldn’t mind attending, martini in hand.

SIDEBAR:

In later years Hollywood got hip to modern music, and jazz held a more exalted position in noir. Here are a handful of memorable performances.

“Gilda” (1946). More of a big band performance than modern jazz, Rita Hayworth wows them with a smoldering rendition of  “Put the Blame on Mame.”

“Sweet Smell of Success” (1957), featuring a performance by the Chico Hamilton Quintet.

“Elevator to the Gallows” (1957), score by Miles Davis.

“I Want to Live” (1957), score by Johnny Mandel and Gerry Mulligan.

“Odds Against Tomorrow” (1959), score by John Lewis of the Modern Jazz Quartet.  

I’d venture to guess that there are more that belong on the list. Which are your favorites? 

BEHIND THE SCENES: 'DOUBLE INDEMNITY'

Barbara Stanwyck, third from left, and Fred MacMurray await their cues.

"Double Indemnity" recently had its 70th anniversary. The Billy Wilder directed film is a top contender for best noir of all time.  It features great performances by Fred MacMurray (Walter Neff), Barbara Stanwyck (Phyllis Dietrichson) and Edward G. Robinson (Barton Keyes) and is packed with classic dialog:

Walter Neff: I was thinking about that dame upstairs, and the way she had looked at me, and I wanted to see her again, close, without that silly staircase between us.

Phyllis: We're both rotten.
Walter Neff: Only you're a little more rotten.

Edward S. Norton: That witness from the train, what was his name?
Barton Keyes: His name was Jackson. Probably still is.

The terrific script unfolds mainly in flashbacks. Wilder and Raymond Chandler adapted the James M. Caine novel of the same title. Chandler, a dean of Los Angeles crime fiction, makes a cameo appearance in the film -- see the clip, below:

 Check out the clip below, in which Walter spills the details of his crimes:

Below, another rarely seen production shot from the film:

Police guard the wartime rationed canned goods used on the set.

It Took Two Directors to Tell the Murder, Inc. Story

Humphrey Bogart as Dist. Atty. Martin Ferguson

"The Enforcer" is one of the lesser appreciated Bogart films, but it deserves more attention than it gets. Granted, it's no "Maltese Falcon." It would be a tall order equaling "Falcon" director John Huston's artistry. But "Enforcer" directors Bretaigne Windust  and Raoul Walsh (uncredited) pull off an impressive feat in keeping the complex story in balance. Walsh directed the suspenseful -- translation: best -- scenes. Windust was primarily a Broadway director, and perhaps needed help putting the action sequences, including story's conclusion, on film.
The story centers around a crusading district attorney -- aren't all district attorneys crusaders in the movies? Bogart ably fills that role, but it's not much of a stretch for the veteran actor. A taut script, bristling dialog and neatly directed scenes keep this thriller on track, no matter how complex the yarn becomes. It's all based on the real-life Murder, Inc., syndicate that provided hitmen for hire.

The film's structure is complex. Flashbacks within flashbacks are liberally sprinkled throughout. They do the job that they're supposed to do, and just when the film veers perilously close to being a gab-fest -- there's no way around using dialog-driven sequences -- Windust and Walsh pull a rabbit out of the proverbial hat with credible and unexpected plot twists or just plain bone-crunching action. Check out the scene with Rico (Ted De Corsia) inching his way across a lofty ledge on a building's facade. Windust/Walsh keep the tension excruciatingly high throughout. It takes a while before we finally meet the heavy, Mendoza (Everett Sloane), and when we do, he's spectacularly unassuming -- until finally we see him serve up the product his syndicate delivers for cash.
Zero Mostel also does a fine turn as the nervous hitman who quickly realizes that he chose the wrong profession.

High Mass: Whitey Bulger, LSD and a Devil's Deal

Johnny Depp as Whitey Bulger? Yup, the actor who played Dillinger in "Public Enemies" is going to play another crime icon, and the movie is slated for release next year. More about that later.

Dick Lehr, a former Boston Globe reporter and co-author of a new book about the life of James "Whitey" Bulger was in L.A. last night, and he brought along screenwriter Mark Mallouk who has adapted Lehr and Gerard O'Neill's previous tome, "Black Mass: Whitey Bulger, the FBI, and a Devil's Deal" for a movie that is to begin filming in Boston this summer. Depp and director Barry Levinson are both attached. Levinson is also in pre-production with "Gotti: In the Shadow of My Father."

James "Whitey" Bulger, 1956

Whitey, the crime boss who went on the lam and got busted here in Santa Monica, was an outstanding figure among underworld bosses, said Lehr. "His gang had reach." Whitey not only controlled Boston rackets, he had a hand in fixing horse races up and down the East Coast, and had a money skimming scam netting him $10,000 per week from World Jai Alai. He is a suspect in 19 homicides, including that of World Jai Alai owner Roger Wheeler.

Lehr read from his latest book, recounting Whitey's prison years in Atlanta in the 1950s, where he volunteered to participate in studies on what was a new drug in the United States, LSD. Psychiatrists thought that LSD might be a useful tool in the study of criminal psychopaths. However, Lehr says the CIA also got into the act and tested numerous other drugs on prisoners. We'll likely never know which substances were used in the testing because all records were destroyed. As you might expect, the agency's shadowy behavior during that study resulted in quite a scandal.

Whitey is probably most noted for having compromised the nation's leading law enforcement agency, the FBI. The G-Men protected him from prosecution for the crimes he committed in return for information he provided that helped smash Boston Mafioso operations. FBI agent John Connolly, who came from Whitey's South Boston neighborhood, was instrumental in setting up the quid pro quo deal between Whitey and the FBI. Connolly said of his first meeting with the infamous Whitey, "It was like meeting Ted Williams," the legendary Red Sox slugger.

Lehr noted that, aside from the FBI, Whitey conned other notable figures into helping him sidestep the penalties due to him, including speaker of the U.S. House John McCormack, and Father Robert Drinan, a Catholic priest and dean of Boston College Law School, who would later become a Massachusetts congressman.

"McCormack's fingerprints are all over Whitey's records," noted Lehr. The House speaker stepped up to the plate for Whitey, as did Drinan, and saw to his early release from detention, including two years served in Alcatraz when the norm for most inmates was an eight year stretch.

Whitey's most commonly heard refrain was, I'm no angel, but I'm not ... fill in the blanks: As bad as they say. A drug pusher. A murderer. Of course, his self-assessment was dubious at best.

Ed Harris, left, Whitey, right

As for the movie, both Lehr and Mallouk have no control over casting, so they can't be blamed for the choices that have been made. While I like Johnny Depp, I can think of few actors less suited to play Whitey -- how about Ed Harris instead? Of course, Harris doesn't have Depp's A-List credentials, and in Hollywood that's the only thing that counts. I thought Depp was also miscast as Dillinger, and of course the movie bombed. But in tinseltown, A-Listers are allowed to repeat their mistakes -- until they're no longer A-Listers.

Whitey, being the notorious narcissist that he is, is undoubtedly aware of and concerned about the movie project. Someone last night asked Lehr if a special screening is in the cards for Whitey, who is sitting in a Plymouth County jail cell awaiting trial. "Whitey isn't going to be having any special screenings," the author said.

Crime in the New Wild West

A lot of people say that "No Country for Old Men" is Joel and Ethan Coen's best film so far. I'd find that a difficult choice to make. But I'll say that "No Country" is one of my favorites.

Javier Bardem has gotten all the kudos for his portrayal of devil incarnate Anton Chigurh -- he won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar. But people talk less about Josh Brolin's turn as Llewelyn Moss, the brush hunter who one strange day on the range find's he's no longer the hunter, but the hunted.

My favorite is Tommy Lee Jones (above, right), whose Sheriff Ed Tom Bell couldn't be more natural and less affected. He's an old-timer who admires the old guy sheriffs. Particularly the ones like him who never carry a gun.

Jones is a native of West Texas, where the story is set, and his performance ranks above all others in that film, and that's no minor compliment. He doesn't seem to act, he merely IS Sheriff Ed Tom Bell.

Brolin is wonderful as Moss, the backwoodsman who stumbles upon the remnants of a drug deal gone bad. The story takes place in 1980, just when the U.S.-Mexico drug war is starting to become exceedingly violent. The movie is also appropriately bloody. In the end the body count is as big as the West Texas sky.

Scenes of graphic carnage are offset with black humor. You can chuckle at a setup that leads to mayhem, then gasp at the blood-letting that follows. As is usual with the Coens, you laugh and then wonder why you just laughed.

The director brothers get high marks on their visual storytelling skills in most of their films, and this one hits a high water mark. They let those big, barren Texas landscapes tell the story. There's just enough information in each scene to move the story along. You have to watch closely to keep up.

Yet this tale couldn't be simpler -- it's a cat and mouse chase that rises way above typical brainless "action" movies. There's real character development setting NCFOM apart from 99 percent of the crap out there.

Overall, it's sort of a modern day cowboy, crime, action, comedy -- or something like that. Stark as a lone cactus in the desert. And just as dry as the landscape there.

'Snatch': A Well Oiled Machine About ... What?

Turkish (Jason Statham), Mickey O;Neil (Brad Pitt)
 and Tommy (Stephen Graham) in 'Snatch.'

The problem with "Snatch," Guy Ritchie's crime drama/comedy that looks at life through the eyes of Turkish (Jason Statham), a London promoter of unlicensed boxing matches, is that the film's not really about anything.

Don't get me wrong, there's plenty that happens plot-wise. There's a frenetic chase after an impossibly large diamond. And everyone involved faces life-threatening consequences for one reason or another — there's nothing like life-threatening consequences to ratchet-up the tension.

But the movie never pauses long enough to let us catch our breath and start to care about whether or not any of the characters get bumped off. Instead, it unfolds like circus performers getting shot out of a canon. And at that speed we're not supposed to notice that the material is a bit thin.

The characters all seem drawn from the pages of the comics. There is bespectacled Brick Top (Alan Ford), the crime boss who feeds victims of his wrath to the pigs. And there's the aforementioned Turkish, as well as Mickey O'Neil (Brad Pitt), an Irish gypsy bare-knuckle boxer whose thick "Traveller" dialect is all but impenetrable.

The film's furious pace keeps you engaged, but at the end it feels like a 90-minute junk-food banquet. Here, Ritchie, for all his talents, comes across as Quentin Tarantino-lite. He gets the action right. But unlike Tarantino, whose films let us get a bit closer to the characters, Ritchie never quite lets us rest and see the gangsters and louts as a lot more than cogs in a well-oiled machine. While Tarantino's movies take on substantial themes, such as redemption and loyalty, Ritchie merely cranks up the action.