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.

The Siege of Jadotville (2016)

Directed by Richie Smyth; produced by Kevin Brodbin, Alan Moloney, Ted Sarandos and Richie Smyth

In 1961, a battalion of the Irish Army is sent to the Congo to act as peacekeepers in that country’s confused and violent civil wars. One of the companies is stationed at Jadotville, a hamlet near a prosperous uranium mine. The mine’s profits are needed by the rebellious State of Katanga, which sends a mercenary-led brigade to take the site. For five days, the inexperienced Irishmen endure attacks by their enemies and abandonment by their friends.

The Congo was in a disastrous condition in the early 1960s. Belgium had done nothing in its colony to promote black natives into positions of responsibility. No black African in the Force Publique - the Congolese army - held a higher rank than sergeant. With no one of experience or expertise in control, and no sense of nationhood, the Congo collapsed into rival factions, rebellions and chaos. The central government, with minimal authority and no resources, asked the United Nations to stabilise the situation. This meant, in large part, coercing the break-away republic of Katanga back into the national fold. But Katanga was immensely mineral-rich, could afford a relatively large army commanded by veteran mercenaries, and was backed by rich mining companies and governments eager to control its wealth.

This is the background for The Siege of Jadotville, an exciting and well-made war movie. In any such action film, the battle scenes are those which largely determine its success or failure, and the scenes here are gripping. The siege comprises a number of assaults, attacks by aircraft and tense truces, adding to the suspense of the film.

The non-action scenes can be divided into two groups, those dealing with the soldiers before deployment and between gun-fights, and those showing the political posturing behind the scenes. The former are rather bland, with the usual scenes of farewell among families and the like. There is only so much a script can do with those. The writer wisely left most of the characterization of the soldiers to how they reacted to combat and the situation in which they found themselves.

The back-room politicking is, perhaps, little different than in some other movies, but the level of cynicism displayed - at least in the film - by both the high-ranking UN officials and those of the Irish Army may come as a surprise. Representing both the United States and Irish Army in what was both entities’ first war (the Korean conflict was essentially run by the U.S.), the company at Jadotville found itself the pawn in not just confusing operations but in perception and reputations. This element includes an interesting aspect in the drama.

As well, the mere fact that events in the Congo, and the fighting at Jadotville in particular, are almost unknown, even to historians, makes for greater suspense. Unlike most battles and wars, this one’s outcome will be largely a mystery to viewers.

The acting is uniformly good, Ireland sharing with Britain the apparent ability to find competent actors without effort. Jamie Dornan heads a cast that is probably anonymous to most North American audiences, the only recognisable name being Mark Strong, who plays diplomatist Conor Cruise O’Brien, and not in the most flattering way.

Though it has flaws - the dialogue is unmemorable and, among the soldiers, uninteresting, and the accents make some of it unintelligible - at 108 minutes, The Siege of Jadotville movies along swiftly, and any slow moments are soon finished. This is an entertaining action flick, with a moderate dose of new history for most people.

The Steel Trap (1952)

Directed by Andrew L Stone; produced by Bert E Friedlob

Jim Osborne (Joseph Cotten) has a good job in a bank, a loving wife (Teresa Wright), a happy child and a comfortable home. It is all nice and routine; has been for eleven years, and probably will be for eleven more. But within his grasp are millions of dollars, and the opportunity to take it. The possibility becomes an obsession to Osborne, until he decides to act on it. He has one weekend to whisk his family and a fortune off to Brazil - will he make it?

This is a suspense film that depends almost exclusively on the star for its success. Cotten gives an excellent performance as a man who has his plan all figured out but is swiftly confronted with the fact that the margins that he has allowed for his actions are too narrow. The story-line that follows a well-laid plot gone awry is a familiar one in caper movies, but in The Steel Trap, Osborne’s plan looks viable - if he has enough time. It is Cotten’s frantic attempts to fit his scheme into its necessary chronology that creates tension.

Cotten does not play Osborne as a cool mastermind. He is nervous, becomes agitated, loses his temper; he is clearly not cut out for a life of crime. Yet seeing an ordinary and decent man try to be a criminal makes the character realistic and identifiable, if not quite sympathetic. This is to the actor’s credit.

Admirable support is given by Wright, as Laurie Osborne. She and Cotten worked together as the leads in Shadow of a Doubt (1943) and established that they had fine chemistry together. Playing husband and wife in The Steel Trap, they show that they still have that working relationship, and give the impression that their characters are, if rather mundanely settled in their lives, still full of love and affection for each other. Laurie’s growing concern over her spouse’s unusual behaviour leads to the movie’s climax.

The writing - by the director - is less laudable. For one thing, Osborne’s plan depends on the bank closing at a certain time. In the next week, it turns to its ‘winter’ schedule and adjusts its hours, rendering his opportunities for larceny very slim. He must compress his efforts into a few days. It would have been more plausible for Osborne to wait half a year until the schedule provides him once more with the necessary time-table, as well as with the requisite time to accomplish all that needs to be done, such as secure visas, arrange cover stories, buy aeroplane tickets, etc. It might be argued that Osborne’s obsession with the plan drives him to immediate action, but there is a sense of contrivance to it.

Also, much of what he does leaves a trail of evidence behind him which, while it might not lead to his arrest, would certainly warrant investigation and, considering the resolution of the story, might cause him trouble in the future. Other aspects are more obviously questionable. A customs inspector (Walter Sande) finds a million dollars in cash in Osborne’s suitcase and, though greatly suspicious, releases him after finding that Osborne’s superior at the bank can’t be reached for comment. Luck plays a part in every successful venture, but it is less feasible in fiction than in fact.

The direction, surprisingly, does not contribute much to the suspense. Stone is a competent director, but, if at all, creates tension pretty much through his star, as stated above. There is good use of location, but the action is less than it should be.

The Steel Trap is about a greatly imperfect heist committed by an ordinary man. Thanks to its star, the movie itself is lifted rather above the level of imperfection.

They Made Me a Fugitive (1947)

Directed by Cavalcanti; produced by N A Bronsten

Young Clem Morgan (Trevor Howard) just out of both the Royal Air Force and a German prisoner-of-war camp has energy to burn and nothing to set fire to. His chance for excitement comes when he joins a black-market gang, led by the smooth and deceptively comradely Narcy (Griffith Jones). When Morgan rejects the chance to smuggle drugs, Narcy turns on him, and frames him for the death of a policeman. Fifteen years in prison for manslaughter is more than Morgan can stand, and he escapes - but to what end?

A violent and tough British film noir, They Made Me a Fugitive features a good story, equally good performances and a very strong and despicable villain. Though the story is interesting - including an odd character who is as chilling as the principal villain - it is missing one vital element. It is never made clear as to why Morgan escapes from prison. He makes his way back to London - to the man who betrayed him - but it is never explicitly stated what his intentions are.

Aside from this, however, They Made Me a Fugitive is a gripping and entertaining thriller. Howard makes an intriguing lead. I have never found him very sympathetic, even when he is obviously meant to be. Many of his characters seemingly are already wearing chips on their shoulders before they arrive on screen. Despite his aristocratic bearing and refined way of talking, his rôles are often those of someone with a touch of anti-hero. In whatever way that may translate in other films, here it gives the right dash of bitterness to the character.

The other performers do very well, including Jones as a man with no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Vida Hope very effectively plays a strange woman Morgan encounters, while Sally Gray is the love-interest. Minor rôles are well filled, and bit parts go to Sebastian Cabot (pre-beard) as the owner of a slummy night-club and Peter Bull as a casual police informant.

The direction is impressive. Shadows and distortions of images are prominent; a startling scene is caused by Narcy’s weird reflection in a mirror - a kind of Dorian Gray moment - and the visit with Mrs Fenshaw is suitably surrealistic. Cavalcanti utilises the limitations of censorship in his era to good effect: a scene in which shotgun pellets must be picked out of Morgan’s shoulder makes one flinch without showing anything but characters’ reactions.

The overall atmosphere of They Made Me a Fugitive is purposefully run-down and shabby, from the gaudy night-club where we first see Morgan, to the funeral parlour out which Narcy runs his operations, to the crumbling hotel where a character hides. Even the the Fenshaws’ home, a comfortable middle-class house, is false and misleading. The settings are perfect for the events and personalities in them.

They Made Me a Fugitive is one of the leading British crime thrillers of the 1940s - and there were a good many to choose from - and can hold its own against any American entry in the genre. Added to this is the bleak atmosphere of post-war austerity and the audaciously unconventional ending, making this picture a must-see for any film noir fan.

The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)

Directed by Robert Wise; Julian Blaustein

A spacecraft from another planet lands in the middle of Washington D.C. The occupant, Klaatu (Michael Rennie), seeks a meeting with all of Earth’s leaders, stating that the world’s future depends upon it. Refused this meeting, Klaatu takes on the guise of a human, to learn more about Earth’s people. He is not ignorant, however, that many, especially those in power, view him as a threat, and may silence him before he can deliver his important message.

One of the earliest of science fiction movies remains one of the best. The Day the Earth Stood Still is not about invasion, wholesale destruction and incomprehensible aliens (1953’s The War of the Worlds admirably handles that aspect of the genre), but about the menace that we humans bring to the universe and how it may rebound on us. It is less about how aliens dislike us and more about how we’ve shown ourselves unworthy of their trust.

Rennie was perfectly cast. The role calls for him to be both superior and understanding, which is not easy to accomplish, but also to be annoyed when humans try his patience too far. He tries reasoning with people at first, and ends in warning them like a parent with children who are a danger to themselves. This is a wide range of personality to convey, but Rennie does it.

Sam Jaffe adequately plays a leading scientist who, when confronted with the alien responds with fascination and curiosity. Patricia Neal has a major part but without much meat to it. Billy Gray, who plays her son, handles his significant contribution very well.

The writing seems unimpressive, only because the story is a quiet, unassuming tale, rather than one laden with big scenes and self-consciously memorable dialogue. What Rennie demonstrates in the character of Klaatu is given him by the writers. Perhaps the most effective part of the script is the growth of menace - not of the alien to Earth but of Earth to the alien.

Robert Wise, who directed such diverse works as The Haunting, The Sound of Music and Run Silent, Run Deep shows his talents here. Whether depicting Klaatu diffidently interacting with ordinary humans in a boarding house, or laying down the law to important dignitaries; demonstrating the unspoken curiosity and fear in a little boy, or conveying the impassive threat of a faceless robot, each scene tells the viewer exactly what Wise wants him to know.

Other aspects of The Day the Earth Stood Still stand out. Some have noted the analogy in the story to Jesus Christ (the otherworldly emissary preaching peace and co-operation - or the alternative; the all-powerful being behind him; death and resurrection). The movie is the earliest instance I have seen of the long-faced, tall actor being cast as someone spiritual; further examples are Robert Powell’s title rôle in Jesus of Nazareth, and the actors who were cast as elves in The Lord of The Rings. And the set inside Klaatu’s spaceship should not be discounted: using only lights, it conveys both a futuristic and an alien technology that doesn’t date as do many examples of imaginary technology in later science fiction films.

If one is looking for the fantasy of Star Wars or the horror of Alien, the viewer will be disappointed here. If one wants a thoughtful movie with a decent script, fine acting and excellent directing, The Day the Earth Stood Still would be the choice to make.