Hunt the Man Down (1950)

Directed by George Archainbaud; produced by Lewis J Rachmil

A heroic defence of his work-place during an armed robbery puts a diner’s dish-washer (James Anderson) on the front page. Unfortunately, his picture is recognised as that of Richard Kincaid, a man put on trial for murder twelve years previously. He had escaped custody before the trial’s completion. Now re-captured, he insists that he is innocent, and it’s up to the public defender, Paul Bennett (Gig Young) to make the jury see that.

An enjoyable aspect of choosing to watch a movie based on nothing more than a one-sentence synopsis, or on who acts in it, is the chance of finding an unexpectedly good film. Hunt the Man Down is one of them. Despite the title that makes it seem like an entry in the ‘fugitive’ category of film noir, the subject of the story is already in jail. What needs hunting is the real killer, one of seven suspects from a dozen years before. Thanks to a good script and direction, Hunt the Man Down delivers a lot of entertainment in its 69 minutes.

The running time is one of the few complaints the audience may have with the movie. Usually, a short and lean length is an asset to a b-movie. In this case, another twenty minutes or so would have been an advantage. The seven suspects, first seen in flashback, are a diverse lot and might confuse the viewer since little time is devoted to the characters. We get to know them better in the present, but, not having the luxury of being able to match in every case name to face - and some having changed subtly in the meantime - the audience has to catch up with recognition as the movie goes.

This is really the only difficulty with Hunt the Man Down. A minor problem is that during the flashback scene, taking place in 1938, the characters’ clothes are no different than those of the present.

Gig Young, future Oscar-winner, is very good as the public defender, though one doubts that such an official would, in real life, have the time to play detective, even if his department’s investigators are already fully occupied. To help, Bennett brings in his father (Harry Shannon), a one-armed former cop. Their interaction is natural and, at times, humorous, and they would have made a good pairing in a tv series.

James Anderson’s most noted rôle would be that of the nasty Bob Ewell in To Kill a Mockingbird, by which time Anderson’s face had become fuller and he resembled a later generation’s Robert Loggia. Also in the cast of Hunt the Man Down is his actress sister, Mary Anderson. Contrastingly, James died at 48, an end described variously as being due to a heart attack or to barbiturate poisoning. Mary lived to be 96. Both give creditable performances here. In fact, given the relatively short extent of their time on screen, most of the cast provides fine vignettes of their characters, a poignant one given by Willard Parker.

The French-born director keeps the pace going, his conversations - and in a mystery like this, most scenes largely comprise talking - concise and to the point, though he manages to throw in a short car-chase that is relevant. Archainbaud, who was responsible for some very good work, later turned to westerns and television, being associated with Gene Autry.

Hunt the Man Down is a low-budget winner, another example of how talented people can make the most out of the least.

The Black Tent (1956)

Directed by Brian Desmond Hurst; produced by William Macquitty

Charles Holland (Donald Sinden), a retired British Army colonel, receives a letter at his country estate, telling him of information received by the Foreign Office suggesting that his brother, David (Anthony Steel), believed killed in the World War, might be alive. Charles travels to Libya, and meets with a Bedouin sheikh (Andre Morell), who is polite but suspiciously unhelpful. When he leaves, Charles is given a roll of papers that holds the key to his sibling’s whereabouts.

A handsomely mounted motion picture, The Black Tent falls in between the categories of war movie and romantic drama, never really succeeding in either due to trying to be both. Certainly, the look of the film is impressive, for which those responsible for cinematography and location-casting are to be commended.

Filmed largely on location, the golden sand and the blue sky, the colourful Bedouin attire and, very interestingly, the Roman ruins of Sabratha - not famous these days - stand out, and give the picture a beauty that is probably more Hollywood - or, rather, Pinewood - than Libyan.

The look of The Black Tent is the best thing in the movie. The story, as stated, divides itself poorly, with too little action for a good war movie, and too much predictability for a good romance. There is nothing that persuades the viewer that David and Mabrouka (Anna Maria Sandri), the sheikh’s daughter, are really in love. He is handsome and she is pretty, and that is all the audience is really shown of their reasons for wanting to be together.

The characters are not involving. The Holland brothers are rather bland, the sheikh suitably dour, and Mabrouka as ordinary as the men. It is the minor character of Ali (Donald Pleasence), the town-bred Arab, who is the most entertaining.

The acting, too, is nothing outstanding. Certainly, Sinden has given better performances,  though he usually had more to work with; here, he plays more a sounding board for exposition than a major character. Steel is competent, while Sandri, in her only English-language film and her final film (she appears to have retired at the age of twenty), had her voice dubbed by an uncredited Nanette Newman, due to the Italian-born Sandri’s difficulty with English. (Newman was then married to Bryan Forbes, who co-wrote the screenplay and played a dying soldier, though his scene was cut.)

A mediocre movie that is rather beautifully shot, The Black Tent doesn’t really have enough of anything to be a winner.

Edge of Eternity (1959)

Directed by Donald Siegel; produced by Kendrick Sweet

A man, previously found nearly incoherent near the Grand Canyon, is murdered. Deputy Sheriff Les Martin (Cornel Wilde) a former detective in Denver, is assigned to find the killer. Martin figures that it can’t be a coincidence that this murder, and then another, has occurred near abandoned gold mines which might still be worth a fortune to an enterprising individual. Whether that individual is willing to kill for that potential fortune is something Martin must investigate  - even at the risk of his life.

What might be seen as a contemporary western is in fact a murder mystery, though, due to the writing, it is not an entirely satisfying one. It starts off strong, with a puzzle that leaves the viewer wondering not only about the victim’s identity, but about the killer’s motive. The uncovering of both of these mysteries is well-handled, but the solution is determined just by chance, rather than deduction, which makes for a weaker ending to the story.

While the story has a weak ending, the movie does not, which highlights the disparity between the writing and the direction. The latter is in the hands of Don Siegel (here, credited as ‘Donald’) and both the opening and closing scenes are exciting and interesting; the climax, featuring a fist-fight over the Grand Canyon itself - with stuntmen, not computer graphics, of course - is thrilling.

Siegel makes excellent use of the scenery - and yes, a bad or mediocre director can waste even the Grand Canyon. The opening images are typical of that use: a wide-angle view of a car driving up to a cliff, and a lone figure running to hide from the car’s occupant. It invites curiosity and participation in what will happen next.

The acting is good, with Wilde a likeable and believable protagonist, Edgar Buchanan as his boss, the county sheriff, and Victoria Shaw as the love-interest. Mickey Shaughnessy provides a well-performed diversion as a bar-owner. Jack Elam plays a foreman at a guano-mine, though whether or not he is taking a break from playing the villains he often portrayed at this time is a question for the viewer.

Aside from the ending, the script is commendable. It credibly creates characters that fit as much in 1950’s Arizona as they would have sixty or seventy years before, contributing to the feel of the contemporary western. It benefits from being set in a real place - Mohave County - and shot on location. The smouldering feud between the county’s attorney and sheriff gives some additional tension to the plot. As well, the developing relationship between Martin and his new girlfriend seems realistic, rather than the contrived circumstances that propel many movie romances.

Edge of Eternity is a good, if not outstanding, adventure/crime movie, with enjoyable work from all concerned.

The Thief (1952)

Directed by Russell Rouse; produced by Clarence Greene

Allan Fields (Ray Milland) is a nuclear physicist working for the U.S. Government. He is also a spy, supplying pictures of secret documents for individuals who likely work for a foreign power. Experienced but jaded, his life enters a new and decisive phase when one of his controllers is killed in a traffic accident, and film provided by Fields is found and passed to the FBI.

This is a unique movie - at least within the film noir/thriller genre - in that it has no dialogue. There is sound, and there is certainly communication, whether by look or action or writing (two telegrams are shown), but no words are spoken through the whole film. This characteristic will of course define its quality and, though parts of it work very well, the whole is not satisfying.

Co-written by the director and producer, The Thief - I’m not sure why it would not have been titled The Traitor, unless it was thought that having a protagonist so titled would put off audiences - seems like the result of a dare or perhaps of a hypothesis remembered from film-school days. Milland is in most scenes, and it is upon him that the movie largely depends. He does not let his end down; depending entirely on action and expression, Milland conveys a full character in merely what the viewer sees, and is the best element in the movie.

The lack of dialogue limits what we can know of the Milland’s character. The viewer does not learn his motivation for spying - is it extortional, ideological, mercenary? - and in one way, this is an advantage. We are dropped into Fields’s life at his moment of crisis, long after the beginnings of his career in espionage, when he might have been excited by it, thrilled by his actions. Now, we see him reluctant and evasive. He has a conscience, and it bothers him.

Another aspect of the silence of the characters is that it makes Fields an isolated man. He seems to have no friends, no loved one, no associates even at work. He appears alone in everything he does and in every way he lives; this may have been both a cause and effect of his treason and, while we have no way of knowing for sure, it makes for greater suspense.

But there are limits to what the lack of spoken word can do, which may be one of the reasons ‘talkies’ superseded the silent films so completely. Some sequences, especially in the first half of the film, are drawn out, repetitious. These could have been enlivened by conversation, even if the conversation were meaningless to the story - which in itself may have conveyed tension.

There is also little chance of complexity in the plot; indeed, there are scenes - more diversions than sub-plots - involving an attractive girl (Rita Gam) in the hotel Fields hides in, which seem like padding, unless one wishes to make a case for them suggesting temptation and how it relates to his spying.

Over all, despite Milland’s excellent performance and the good direction - the use of sounds is effective, in particular a repetitiously jangling telephone bell - The Thief is more interesting than entertaining. It can’t shake the impression that it was an experiment its participants found more involving than the audience.

Nightmare (1956)

Directed by Maxwell Shane; produced by William H Pine and William C Thomas

Stan Grayson (Kevin McCarthy), a clarinetist with a New Orleans night-club band, wakes from a nightmare in which he murdered a man. At first dismissing the dream, he is unnerved to find items from it in his room. Later, he inexplicably discovers more proof that the dream may have been real. For help, he turns to his brother-in-law, police detective Rene Bressard (Edward G Robinson), but finds that the practical investigator thinks Stan has actually committed a crime. With the mounting evidence pointing toward his guilt, and his only ally against him, Stan is cornered.

The dream-come-true genre of film noir has more than a few entries, and most of them have plots that are, to varying degrees, far-fetched. Nightmare is no exception. To be fair, though, most of these movies have story-lines that do work within the context of the film. Again, Nightmare is not an exception. The explanation would certainly not stand a few second’s scrutiny by anyone with some knowledge on the subject, but in Hollywood terms, it works adequately in the story.

That written, there are factors both to praise and condemn about Nightmare. The setting of the story in New Orleans gives it a different feel than other films noir. Like the recently reviewed Cry Vengeance, which took place in Alaska, Nightmare’s less than common backgrounds give it a different look and feel than many movies in its genre.

The script is no better than average, with McCarthy giving his character’s narration over much of the action. This I found unnecessary; McCarthy is a good enough actor to provide the visual equivalent of narration if the direction for him to do so was there. It may be that this was an attempt to preserve the feel of the source material, a short story by Cornell Woolrich. It suffers, however, from inconstancy, a failing of a number of narrated movies: some scenes are given a voice-over, while others are not, with no good reason for the contrast. As well, Bressard’s conversion to seeing things his brother-in-law’s way seems a bit too abrupt.

The acting is mediocre, with Robinson, unsurprisingly, coming across as the best. The scene in which he confronts Stan over what the former believes are the latter’s lies is a good one. Otherwise, there is not much that demands superior thespian skills.

While Nightmare improves as it goes along, the solution becomes clear too soon - not to mention that it's given away by the poster - and the climax is not terribly exciting. The result is a fair-to-middling movie.

Cry Vengeance (1954)

Directed by Mark Stevens; produced by Lindsley Parsons

Former policeman Vic Barron (Mark Stevens) has good reason to be bitter and vindictive. His wife and child were killed - and he was disfigured - by a car-bomb planted by gangsters when he was coming too close to putting them away. Unsatisfied with that, they also framed him for crimes, resulting in a three-year prison sentence. Now freed, Barron’s one goal is to find the man responsible for his family’s murder and to do the same to him.

In a genre of dark and single-minded characters, Vic Barron is one of the darkest, at least for much of the film. His obsession with vengeance even leads him to consider killing his enemy’s child, as his own was killed. It’s a good character to play, and Stevens brings Barron’s narrow world to the screen convincingly. There really isn’t anything for him but revenge. As for what happens afterward? It isn’t mentioned because it doesn’t matter.

Also well-performed is the gangsters' hatchet-man, Roxey Davis, played by Skip Homeier, whose distinctive appearance adds to his acting to make Roxey a memorably menacing villain. More could have been made of the fact that Barron and Davis are two sides of the same coin, but even so, the pair make good adversaries.

The characters are, I think, a product of the writing, more than the acting - though Homeier is very good - which also folds into the plot the notion that the man Barron is hunting may not be the one he should be hunting. There are different layers of villainy, and Barron’s quarry comes across as almost sympathetic.

Cry Vengeance is aided greatly by the setting. Filmed in Ketchikan, Alaska, the town and the countryside surrounding it are used to good advantage. They provide a radically different backdrop to most film noir, which usually take place in bleaker environments, a grimy city or a dusty desert. Director Stevens uses the locale well, both in its unusual topography and its relative isolation.

On the subject of direction, Stevens does a good job. Though he probably wouldn’t have risen above the B-movies in which he often acted, there are some entertaining scenes, and an exciting chase sequence. As noted above, Stevens chose wisely in selecting his locations.

A largely unknown production, Cry Vengeance benefits from an above-par story, a stand-out villain and a deliberately one-dimensional protagonist.

Under the Gun (1951)

Directed by Ted Tetzlaff; produced by Ralph Dietrich

Bert Galvin (Richard Conte) is a smooth and shady businessman infatuated with singer Ruth Williams (Audrey Totter). At last persuading her to go to New York with him, they stop at a small restaurant. While there, a man with a grudge against him wants to kill Galvin, but Galvin kills him first, in circumstances that could not be termed self-defence, and is sentenced to twenty years on a prison farm. The rich and clever Galvin doesn’t intend to stay there, though, and starts plotting his escape, no matter how deadly the risks might be - to himself or to others.

A good crime-movie lifted by its performances and script, Under the Gun is let down somewhat by the ending, though not enough to cancel a recommendation. Conte gives an admirable performance in the type of rôle he could play well. Though he could take on sympathetic characters (as in Hollywood Story, reviewed on this blog in February, 2024), he slips easily into Bert Galvin’s character, and makes him intelligent, ruthless, arrogant and remorseless - in ways that aren’t all that obvious.

Audrey Totter has what might be considered a reduced part for someone at this point of her career: though she has a major rôle, she’s not seen for the middle three fifths of the film. She adopts a squeakier voice than her real one, and seems a singer from the 1930s, rather than the early ‘50s, though that is actually her singing in the night-club.

This is a movie in which the supporting characters are important to the story and the atmosphere. Galvin’s fellow prisoners are an assorted lot, each quirky without being unrealistic. Royal Dano as prison trusty Nugent, Richard Taber as slightly unhinged Five Shot and, especially Sam Jaffe, as the quiet, observant Gower, are stand-outs, though Shepperd Strudwick, as Galvin’s competent and crooked lawyer, is equally good.

Tetzlaff performs another competent job as director, as he had with Riffraff (reviewed in March of this year), though, for the most part, without providing anything extraordinary. The exception is, as with Riffraff, the opening sequence. It features Conte slumbering in the back of a convertible. The camera closes in on him as he converses with the driver, then retreats again. It was clearly filmed with moving automobiles, perhaps one of the first instances of such a sequence (instead of using a back-screen, or immobile car-frames on trailers for steadiness.)

The story could have ended better. I wonder how many writers sacrificed a good, ironic conclusion for the sake of the action that a producer or director thought an audience would have preferred. The finish here is fitting, but not as fitting as it could have been.

All in all, Under the Gun is, while not excellent, nonetheless a good entry in the crime-drama category, and will entertain for its 83 minutes.