Red Skies of Montana (1952)

Directed by Joseph M Newman; produced by Samuel G Engel

A team of fire-fighters, dropped into the woods of Montana to contain a small blaze, are overwhelmed when the fire suddenly enlarges, all but their leader, Cliff Mason (Richard Widmark) being killed. As he recovers from his harrowing experience – the climax of which he can’t remember – Mason must grapple with his shattered confidence and the possibility that his actions led to the deaths of his comrades.

An exciting adventure of men whose routine is routinely dangerous, Red Skies of Montana benefits from Widmark, a fine and versatile actor. Only five years - but ten movies - separate this performance from his debut as the psychopathic Tommy Udo in Kiss of Death, but it shows how different the characters are that Widmark played. Though other actors are given screen-time, it is he who anchors the film.

Richard Boone, as the ‘smoke-jumper’ department’s supervisor, and Jeffrey Hunter, as a young firemen and the son of another, do well, too, though neither is indispensable in his rôle. Constance Smith, reputedly brought from Britain for her part, was, hopefully, paid well; her performance is good but unnecessary, as the character – Mason’s wife - had little point, and not much more to do. Of more interest may be Charles Bronson and Richard Crenna in uncredited small bits as fire-fighters.

The story is satisfactory. It includes a suspicion by young Ed Miller (Hunter) that his father died as a result of Mason’s panic, and subsequent abandonment of his team. This does lend tension to the story, and a confrontation which, in its aftermath, allows for an important revelation. Nonetheless, it is rather melodramatic, and could have been left out of the story without harm or much re-writing. On the other hand, it does no damage, and does not feel contrived.

The direction is commendable. Newman, who would direct the well-known science fiction movie This Island Earth, successfully incorporates footage of genuine fires and creates enough realism to make a viewer wonder if part of a forest was actually burned for some scenes.

One interesting aspect is the technology used by the fire-fighters. Clearly, this reflects the real-life work of the ‘smoke-jumpers’ as it was at the time. Little is specifically pointed out; most is shown to the viewer as a normal part of the firemen’s work, yet allows for good insight into what they did and how.

Some of the technology is very dated. While it may cause amusement to modern audiences (Mason uses a walkie-talkie the size of a small Yule log, and his boss catches the team’s attention by flying over them and hailing them with a loud-speaker), it was state-of-the-art then, and, after all, one must walk before one runs.

While some improvements could have been made, Red Skies of Montana is an enjoyable adventure story, with a suitably exciting climax.

The Blue Gardenia (1953)

Directed by Fritz Lang; produced by Alex Gottlieb

Norah Larkin (Anne Baxter), having just received a ‘Dear Jane’ letter from her soldier boyfriend, accepts a dinner-invitation from Harry Prebble (Raymond Burr), a man well-known as a womaniser at Norah’s work-place. Intending just to forget her sorrows, Norah drinks too much and ends up at Prebble’s apartment. Prebble, for his part, ends up dead – beaten by a fireplace poker. Norah, recovering from her unaccustomed binge of the night before, can’t recall what happened at Prebble’s home. But Captain Haynes (George Reeves) of the Los Angeles Police, and Casey Mayo (Richard Conte) of the Chronicle newspaper, make it their business to find the unknown woman who may have killed Prebble.

A number of films have started with the premise of a person waking after a forgotten night, only to find themselves enmeshed in murder, or another serious crime. It’s a good idea, but depends in its value to a movie on the story that proceeds from it. The Blue Gardenia does well enough for much of its length, but stumbles at the conclusion.

Baxter is winning and sympathetic as Norah, possibly both perpetrator and victim, and her acting is not at fault. Conte is a bit lackluster here, as if his heart wasn’t in the rôle. Burr, however, comes off very well, giving his uncaring jerk enough charm to be credible as a successful Lothario. Also in the movie are Ann Sothern and Jeff Donnell as Norah’s roommates. Ruth Storey, Conte’s wife at the time, had her first cinema rôle as Rose. Nat ‘King’ Cole sings a less than memorable song at a night-club, and fans of Star Trek should note that May, the blind flower-seller, is played by Celia Lovsky, once Peter Lorre’s wife, and later T’Pau, the Vulcan matriarch.

The direction is adequate, but no more. Lang was a director of innovative and exciting movies, such as Metropolis and M, but of his later work, less can be written. There is nothing in The Blue Gardenia that stands out. This is perhaps due to its being shot in twenty days.

The problem with The Blue Gardenia is the story and, partially, the script. Initially, it seems a light-hearted film, perhaps even a comedy-mystery. Sothern and Donnell are played largely for comic effect; that they are successful in this makes their inclusion incongruous with the serious tone of the drama that the story becomes. The script gives these two characters the best lines (eg. Crystal (Ann Sothern) is dating her former husband, a situation she excuses by saying that, when married, he had a husband’s faults; now, he had a boyfriend’s virtues.)

But the story doesn’t work itself out quite right. The ending comes rather suddenly. I believe The Blue Gardenia’s writers knew exactly what they were doing; dramatically, it is satisfactory. But this is a crime movie, a film noir, and would have benefitted from the characters solving Norah’s mystery through logic and thought. Instead, the finale comes from nowhere. It is, as mentioned, dramatically acceptable, but not really fair in this genre.

A time-filler, The Blue Gardenia will entertain to an extent, but everyone involved has done better.

Walk East on Beacon! (1952)

Directed by Alfred Werker; produced by Louis de Rochemont

An on-going inquiry by the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation, leads to some known Soviet intelligence agents. This development suggests that their target is a very important research programme, significant for the future construction of all weapons. The FBI mobilise not only to stop the possible loss of vital information, but to round up the entire Soviet spy-ring.

Walk East on Beacon! is a rather lackluster Cold War espionage movie. The limited talent involved may be guessed by the fact that though there are five writers credited (including J Edgar Hoover, who penned the original article which inspired the story, and three others who are listed as providing ‘additional writing’), nothing very exciting or original is found in the movie’s 98 minutes, though there are some interesting moments.

The film may be seen as a propaganda piece for the FBI, and was no doubt intended so. (The higher-ranking FBI officers all have portraits of Hoover in their rooms; they are not as large as the portraits of Stalin the Russians have in theirs, but the parallel was enough to be amusing.)

The Bureau men all seem to be cut from the same cloth – in one scene, literally: as a conference breaks up the viewer sees that the participants all appear to be wearing very similar suits, like a uniform. Their characters are hardly distinctive from one another and, though they make mistakes (eg. failing to follow a suspect because, being dressed like a Catholic priest, he was believed to be one), the government operation is smooth, professional and powerful.

Rather strangely, the better-defined characters are those of the FBI’s antagonists. Karel Stepanek portrays a Soviet intelligence general, cold and ruthless – though, in truth, not much different than his real-life counterparts. Yet Stepanek, a competent actor, shows his character’s traits in small ways, such as the briefest indication of admiration for a comrade’s security measures. Bruno Wick, playing that comrade, gives a good depiction of what was likely the feelings of a long-time agent-in-place for the critical ‘headquarters man’.

Louisa Horton has the rôle of a leading Communist agent, unconsciously highlighting the prominence women sometimes had in Soviet intelligence (at least when serving in countries outside the Communist bloc) as opposed to the all-male world of the FBI. George Roy Hill, later much better known as a director, plays her husband.

The plot itself is straightforward. Though doubtless incorporating a substantial amount of fact, it is presented rather dully. The inevitable actionful climax comes across as artificial, like the insertion of obscenities or nudity in a 1960s film, meant to garner a coveted ‘R’ rating.

There is little to appeal to the viewer in Walk East on Beacon! The minimal interest generated by some of the characters – more a credit to the actors than the writers - doesn’t lift the movie above the pedestrian.

 

The Way Ahead (a.k.a The Immortal Battalion) (1944)

Directed by Carol Reed; produced by John Sutro and Norman Walker

Two years into the Second World War, Britain found itself pressed for manpower, and forced to conscript men from previously reserved occupations, and unqualified physical and age groups. These unwilling soldiers include a boiler-man (Stanley Holloway), a department store executive (Raymond Huntley), a travel agent (Leslie Dwyer), a rent-collector (James Donald) and a farm-labourer (John Laurie). Placed under an experienced Territorial officer (David Niven) and a Regular sergeant (William Hartnell), this platoon of civilians will need to become the tough fighters that will help save their country.

If seen as a propaganda piece, as it is sometimes described, The Way Ahead must rate as one of the best ever produced. As a straightforward war-movie, it is even better. Though made when the war was still being fought, there is little waving of the flag here. What stands out most is the realistic depiction of men dragged from familiar and more or less comfortable lives, forced into dangerous situations and made to do things they don’t want to do, all in a good cause.

The talent that went into the film was formidable. The director was of course later responsible for The Third Man and Odd Man Out. The Way Ahead is a much expanded version of his short The New Lot, and easily mixes drama with humour. Like the soldiers, one may wonder if there will ever be fighting, but when it comes, it is sharp and tense. Clive Donner worked as an uncredited editor.

The writers were Eric Ambler and Peter Ustinov, the former already well-established as a novelist and the latter, only 23 at the time, soon to be known as a renaissance man of the arts. Their script creates a series of characters, each full and distinct; in an ensemble cast, it is sometimes important to allow the audience to see a personality quickly, with just a few lines, and that is a talent demonstrated well here.

The writers clearly had help in the military aspect of the script, not just from the credited technical advisors but from the star, David Niven. His first choice of career was the Army, but a couple of years of peacetime soldiering in the early 1930s bored him. Resigning his commission (he had been a Regular, passing out of Sandhurst), he hurried back to England in 1939, and was assigned, among other billets, to the staff of the Combined Operations Directorate, then the Army Film Unit, which was how he became involved with The Way Ahead. He later served in GHQ Liaision Regiment, the innocuously named armoured-car-based reconnaissance unit that scouted in enemy territory, ahead of conventional formations.

Aside from the actors mentioned, Penelope Dudley-Ward, later Carol Reed’s wife, is an officer’s wife; Renée Asherson (as Renee Ascherson) a canteen operator; Leo Genn a captain, Trevor Howard a merchant marine officer, and screenwriter Ustinov plays a café-owner.

One of the most remarkable things about The Way Ahead is its realism. These days, that often means blood and guts; here, it means the demonstration of real people in real situations. The platoon shown is made up of the least probable warriors. Huntley, who often played officious bureaucrats and the like, looks like a shop floor-walker, yet when he has a conversation about leave while cleaning his rifle, he becomes a soldier. All the men change, yet their evolution is gradual, entirely credible. When quietly disdainful Private Lloyd (James Donald) becomes his section’s spokesman, and starts leading the men, his eventual corporal’s stripes are the natural result. The men’s development of pride in themselves, in their regiment, in being infantrymen, doesn’t happen over night, yet by the end of their training they are pleased at their achievements, and ready for action. Yet the story doesn’t shy from showing the jarring change men experience becoming soldiers, one commenting that the uniform made one feel like a convict.

William Hartnell (credited as ‘Billy Hartnell’) fills the first of his many ‘sergeant’ roles (both army and police), and the script shows him as human, too. Alternately bellowing and glowering at the men, he has praise for these same men when talking to his officer, and is all smiles at a mess party. (I am reminded of an acquaintance who, having been in the Canadian Forces some years ago, remarked on his surprise when he met his hard-driving drill-corporal off-duty, as opposed to on.)

Not many films show as many aspects of the Second World War British Army, or of the gradual molding of a small unit, as successfully as The Way Ahead. It may be seen as propaganda, a history lesson, an collective character study or a war movie; whatever its category, it is excellent entertainment.