Niagara (1953)

Directed by Henry Hathaway; produced by Charles Brackett

Two married couples check in to holiday cabins on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls. The union of George and Rose Loomis (Joseph Cotten, Marilyn Monroe) is already shaky just two years into it, with Rose bored with her husband and meeting with a lover (Richard Allan). Ray and Polly Cutler (Casey Adams, Jean Peters) have delayed their honeymoon for three years, but are still rather like newly wedded youngsters. Rose’s disillusion with her marriage has a dark side: she and her boyfriend are plotting to kill George and escape to Chicago, and the Cutlers, trying not to become involved in their fellow guests’ problems, find themselves unwittingly enmeshed in murder.

Niagara has a number of elements that should have contributed to a successful film. Hathaway is a very good director with a number of fine films to his credit (eg. The Desert Fox, Kiss of Death, True Grit), and his direction here is involving, especially during the climax. Use is made of a wide variety of locations, not just the majestic waterfalls. Hathaway includes touches that add to the story and characters, such as George Loomis standing near the base of the falls, becoming soaked, then instinctively trying to avoid lawn sprinklers as he walks back to his motel. There is one irritation in Hathaway’s work, to be discussed below.

The acting is good. Cotten, an old pro, easily captures the desperation of a man in love with someone he should never have married, hoping to recapture what he never had in the first place. Monroe’s performance is adequate, and she satisfactorily conveys the impression of a woman tired of what she sees as the constrictions of her life.

The story is a good one, if rather predictable. There is an inevitability to the actions which, to the director’s and writers’ credit, does not make the finale expected. The air of Greek tragedy pervades the tale, and the roar of the water over its precipice lends a background noise of doom.

Unfortunately, the actual script does not create sympathetic characters. None of the four major personalities are that likeable. The Cutlers are not unlikeable, but neither are they people anyone would go out of his way to meet. Adams (later to work under his birth name of Max Showalter) is annoying much of the time, something I ascribe to the writing and directing (the flaw in Hathaway’s work mentioned earlier) rather than his acting. Ray grins like a silly child most of the movie; I expected him to burst out giggling half the time.

Rose is meant to be the villainess of the piece, so her cold and calculating manner is deliberate. But George embodies the adage of ‘no fool like an old fool’ rather too well, and his petulant, abrasive behaviour does not invite sympathy. And though Polly tries to help, but even her willingness seems one of convenience: she wants to assist but only if it’s not much trouble. All of this means that there is no one to root for, no point of view the audience will favour.

Niagara is an entertaining movie to an extent, but the lack of sympathetic characters leave it with the feeling of watching events re-enacted for a true-crimes tv series, rather than a dramatic film noir.

Cornered (1945)

Directed by Edward Dmytryk; produced by Adrian Scott

Laurence Gerard (Dick Powell), a former Royal Canadian Air Force officer, returns to France shortly after the World War. When his aeroplane was shot down, he had joined the French Resistance, and married one of its members. After Gerard was captured, his wife and fifty others were executed on the orders of a Vichy French official named Jarnac. Though the latter was officially dead, few believe it, and Gerard sets off to find him, the trail leading through France, to Switzerland and, eventually, to Argentina, where the Canadian finds himself involved in a much bigger affair, with more at stake than mere vengeance.

An interesting and involving movie, Cornered’s only real flaw is the overly-convoluted plot, which may have some viewers lost, especially in the matter of an abundance of French and Spanish names that are only imperfectly identified with their owners. This is exacerbated by some aliases being used by those involved. It is a good story, though the writers seem so intent on it that they forget some issues. For instance, Gerard is too impatient to wait for a passport to travel to France, yet he has one very shortly afterward when journeying to Argentina.

Aside from the fact that the plot line is a bit too clever for its writers’ own good, the script is satisfactory. Gerard is a hothead, too anxious to find his wife’s killer to think things through in a number of cases. He comes up against several people who are cooler and more intelligent than he, which leads to complications, especially since there is no certainty as to whose side they are on. This creates a character who is fallible and credible. It’s interesting that others in the film - both friends and enemies - rightly discern Gerard’s flaws, and comment upon them.

Other characters are believeable, too, including the conniving Incza (Walter Slezak), the untrustworthy Madame Jarnac (Micheline Cheirel) and the steady and competent Diego (Jack La Rue). Unlike many secondary characters in other films, these hold their own against the lead, thanks to the writing that creates them.

The acting is also convincing. This is only the second of Powell’s movies after he determined on a change of course for his career, leaving behind the bouncy, young-at-heart characterizations from comedies and musicals, and taking on the tough, hard-boiled rôles of private detective, man with a mission, and the like. Gerard is cynical and single-minded, not even really sympathetic in many ways. Nonetheless, the personality fits well with the story.

The supporting players give commendable performances. Mention has been made of their characters; it is the acting that makes them ambiguous in their morals and motives, the actors giving credence to the writing. That writing, incidentally, does something clever in having Gerard told that Jarnac, a man well-versed in hiding and evading, won't be anyone Gerard knows, thus saving the audience the disappointment of trying to guess the villain from among the people they have already met.

Despite some troubles with the density of the plot, Cornered is an enjoyable, two-fisted film noir that rivals many from a richly entertaining movie era.

The Missing Juror (1944)

Directed by Oscar Boetticher Jr; produced by Wallace MacDonald

Young Harry Wharton (George Macready), convicted of murder and sentenced to hang, was pardoned after new evidence of his innocence was uncovered by reporter Joe Keats (Jim Bannon). That didn’t save him, however, as his mind was unhinged by his ordeal and he killed himself. Months later, members of the jury that voted for Wharton’s guilt are being killed off, and Keats is back on the case, trying to solve the murders and save lives.

What made me watch The Missing Juror was principally the fact that it is an early work by Bud Boetticher (here credited under his birth-name). Best known for his westerns, especially those starring Randolph Scott, Boetticher’s straight-forward style is deceptively simple, and here he shows its origins, embellished by some interesting flourishes. One of those is the technique of changing scenes by taking advantage of the three-walled sets that movies use, and simply rolling the camera ‘through’ the set’s incomplete wall, from one room to another. Subtle swings of the camera give movement to otherwise static scenes. In short, the direction did not disappoint.

Almost everything else about The Missing Juror did, however. The principal culprit is the script. It has the makings of a very good mystery story. No attempt is made, though, to put any mystery into it. It gives the appearance, in fact, of being sabotaged in its attempts to mislead the audience in terms of the killer’s identity. Nor is any motive but the obvious one suggested for the killings, thus limiting the possible suspects.

The first problem is that someone’s body is ‘burned beyond recognition’. To any viewer or reader of mysteries, this is a patent sign. Later, an observation is made by a character that links another character to Wharton. I thought at first that this was a red herring, thrown in by a clever writer. There is no clever writer. Basically, it is the writer figuring that his audience is so dumb that they need a huge arrow pointing in the right direction.

As well, when a character in a movie set during a decade when full facial hair was rare has a beard and moustache, in addition to glasses, one knows that the appearance is perfect for a disguise. Again, one might suspect a false trail. Again, one would be let down. An added discouragement is that this particular character is the most interesting.

The acting is adequate, about par for b-level film noir. Bannon was initially a movie stuntman, and makes a decent hero; he later turned to small roles in westerns. He and most of the other performers are unknown today, though Macready - whose real-life culture and erudition comes through in his acting - had a prolific career in a variety of roles.

With much potential and its few good touches wasted, The Missing Juror spends two thirds of its running time as an obvious, rather heavy-handed tale of demented vengeance. Commendable direction only goes so far.