Fingerman (1955)

Directed by Harold Schuster; produced by Lindsley Parsons

Casey Martin (Frank Lovejoy), not long out of prison, hijacks a truck and the evidence lands him in the local office of the U.S. Treasury Department. There, he is offered a choice: a lifetime in jail as a ‘four-time loser’, or the chance to start clean. The latter, however, involves infiltrating and bringing down notorious gangster Dutch Becker (Forrest Tucker), which will be dangerous not just for Martin, but for those near and dear to him.

Though it has elements of film noir - voice-over narration by the main character, and enough trenchcoats to have emptied a studio’s wardrobe department - Fingerman fits more into the genre of ‘gang-buster’ movies. Instead of a policeman or federal agent, the good guys’ mole in the criminal organisation is a tough-talking, tough-acting ex-convict, who has reasons other than government coercision for bringing down the bad guys.

Lovejoy does a decent job in the lead. His character is an essentially kind man who treats fair those who treat him fair. He is supported by Peggie Castle as Martin’s love interest. (Tragically, both actors would die relatively young: Castle of alcoholism at 45, and Lovejoy of a heart attack at 50.) Tucker does well as a menacing villain; he manages to make his character’s stated abhorrence of violence seem true. Aside from the strange Timothy Carey as Becker’s sadistic right hand, the rest of the cast is unknown.

A product of Allied Artists, the re-named Monogram Pictures, Fingerman shows its low production values. As with many cheap productions, however, the lack of funds does not really hinder the movie. Crime dramas, like westerns, could be made without great cost. The story takes place in the usual unnamed city, which allows filming on generic sets.

What hurts Fingerman, however, is the writing; specifically, the pacing of the story. At 82 minutes, the movie is about as long as most films of this genre. But it seems to spend most of its time in the set-up. It’s half over before Decker decides to take on Martin as a member of his gang. Ordinarily, a slow build-up would be commendable: one assumes that under-cover work demands long preparation.

The trouble is that once accepted, Martin learns too much too fast. What he is able to find out while undercover could have been achieved with a well-placed eavesdropping device. Perhaps the writers, realising that they had spent most of the running time leading up to the meat of the story, had to rush the remainder. In any case, there is something strongly unsatisfying about the second half of Fingerman.

While good performances and dialogue help the movie, its rushed narrative does Fingerman too great a disservice, and hurts the over-all results.

The Conformist (a.k.a. Il conformista; 1970)

Directed by Bernardo Bertolucci; produced by Maurizio Lodi-Fe

Marcello Clerici (Jean-Louis Trintignant) has joined Italy’s Fascist Party and is ready to prove himself to his bosses. To do so, he is ordered to kill his former university professor. As he prepares for the task, he recalls his earlier life, visits with his drug-addicted mother and his insane father, and the people who shaped the man he has become.

The Conformist has been praised as one of the greatest movies ever made. While it is certainly very good, I cannot agree with such a rating. There are a number of outstanding elements to the film but I find it flawed in a significant way, which inhibits its completeness.

The acting is first-rate. Trintignant is excellent in the title role. He never strives to make Clerici likeable, but does give him depth and a kind of complexity that makes him understandable. He is a villain, and meant to be a villain in a kind of banal, every-day fashion. But if one cannot understand a villain, he becomes little more than a cartoon character. Certainly Clerici is understandable - perhaps too much so.

The direction complements the acting, and there are some scenes that are tense and frightening in a realistic manner. In particular, an assassination sequence is almost horrifying in the mundanity of the killers and their behaviour.

What was very visually noticeable was the look of the film, the responsibility of production designer Ferdinando Scarfiotti and art director Nedo Azzini. They recreated an atmospheric 1930s look and feel (perhaps accentuating the styles of the times), as well as the monumental architecture and décor beloved of Fascism. The giant, stony offices in which the Italian government officials work is reminiscent of the genuine productions of Mussolini’s regime and its attempts to portray itself as an immense entity, but they also emphasise the emptiness of the Fascists and their beliefs.

What I found to be less than these elements was the writing and the story. This may be surprising, as they were adapted from the acclaimed novel by Alberto Moravia. I thought the obviousness of the story a factor in dulling its effectiveness. Clerici wishes to join the Fascist secret police, and the man to whom he applies lists the reasons why people want to join, but expresses puzzlement over not being able to fathom Clerici’s motives. This scene is intercut with another in which Clerici explains to a friend that he craves ‘normality’. Everything is laid out for the viewer.

It may be that the intention is to demonstrate that Clerici doesn’t understand the difference between normalcy and conformity, between being contentedly ordinary and following the crowd to fit in. If so, then the movie damages its own argument, since becoming a Fascist would be normal - for the time and place - but joining the secret police would not be. No one associated with a totalitarian police force could claim normalcy.

The dénouement is a brief scene set in 1943, when Mussolini has fallen. Clerici accepts this event blandly, which doesn’t seem right, considering what he had become, and his actions toward an old friend, while fitting, are predictable.

While I can recommend The Conformist for its look and sympathies, the story is neither exciting nor demanding enough for the scale of the production or its intention.

The Beast is Loose (a.k.a. The Tiger Attacks; 1959)

Directed by Maurice Labro; produced by Francois Chavane

Paul Lamiani (Lino Ventura) is a former criminal, former convict and former fighter in the French Resistance during World War Two. Fourteen years after the end of the war, he is contacted by an old associate (François Chaumette), now a member of the DST, France’s security service. Lamiani is coerced into joining the criminal - and traitorous - organisation run by a former friend of his gangster days, Raymond Maroux (Paul Frankeur), in order to break it up from within. But what he doesn’t know is that Maroux has other enemies within his group. Soon double cross follows on double cross, and Lamiani will be lucky to escape alive.

The Beast is Loose is one of the movies that put Lino Ventura firmly in the leading man category, after several years of supporting - though always prominent - roles. One can see why he was able to secure stardom so quickly, as his acting in this film is both convincing and involving. Interestingly, he often played villains, as well as heroes, and was respected by critics and audiences in both parts.

Lamiani is initially seen as a quiet man, who prefers to talk his way out of bad situations. His past, however, suggests that there is more to his personality, and by the film’s end, provocations are such that another side is brought out. This duality is both persuasive and intriguing, since one is not quite sure what he will do under different conditions. The other performers are good, too, though they don’t have the chance for much range, except for Frankeur. Nadine Alari, who plays Lamiani's wife, was also a voice actress, providing French-language dubbing for movies from Some Like It Hot (1959) to Spectre (2015).

The direction is the other half of the appeal for The Beast is Loose. Use is effectively made of the settings, especially the cliffs of Normandy, where an exciting chase takes place in and under an old war-time bunker. Shoot-outs and fist-fights also feature strikingly, as one might expect, and are handled excitingly.

The story is adequate. The plot threatens to become too convoluted at times, and, in the end, becomes, paradoxically, rather simple. Nonetheless, it serves the movie well enough and, with other elements in its favour, The Beast is Loose works.

Interestingly, it is an early example of treating government operators and organisations cynically, showing them to be as ruthless as the villains they are going after. Perhaps this was a result of the complex situation in France after the war, when those who fought the German occupation had to live side by side with those who collaborated.

On the strength of Ventura’s performance, and the complementary direction, The Beast is Loose is an entertaining crime drama. (Ventura was an interesting man off-screen, too, if only for the fact that, though almost all his movies were French, his nationality, never surrendered, was Italian, yet he was rated by the French as one of the greatest Frenchmen. He was also a philanthropist; his wife and he being pioneers in charitable work for mentally disabled people.)

Bewitched (1945)

Directed by Arch Oboler; produced by Jerry Bresler

Joan Ellis (Phyllis Thaxter) is on death row. What drove her to commit the murder she committed no one understands. She knows, though, and, through flashbacks, the story is told of how Joan has been fighting a battle for years - a losing battle - against the other person inside her: a malevolent personality that lives to cause havoc and destruction.

One of the first movies to consider, scientifically (or pseudo-scientifically), the condition of multiple personalities - if adaptations of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde are excepted - Bewitched is effective as a tale of psychological horror. This is not so much due to the story and the direction, both the work of one man, as the execution of them by the actors.

Arch Oboler is considered a pioneer of radio drama. His stories were inventive and imaginative, and well presented. As a film director, he is less successful, his first effort being the gravely disappointing Strange Holiday, reviewed on this blog in May of 2024. The principal blame there was the script (also by Oboler). The direction was tedious, though much of the fault may have been in the editing, or lack thereof.

Bewitched is Oboler’s second directorial effort, and was also written by him. Much of the story is atmospheric and creepy, though there are parts that seem like padding, such as scenes of Joan running through the streets of New York. The original story may have been conceived as a radio-play, and required the extra time for a movie. It runs 65 minutes, but seems longer.

The story, whether it was first meant for the radio or not, is a good one. The fight between Joan and her evil alter ego is tense, and the trial scenes allow Joan’s motivation to be explained to the audience, if not to the other characters. There is less suspense in the climax. This may be the case because of the greater understanding we - even laymen - have of psychology these days, and may also be due to the dubious manner in which Joan’s deep problem is solved. There is, as well, no delving into the origin of her split personality.

It is the acting that allows Bewitched to be entertaining. Thaxter does a fine job as the bemused and frightened woman at the centre of the tale. The supporting players are not as impressive. Edmund Gwenn plays a psychologist who seems little different than many other such doctors in movies of that era.

However, it was a successful notion to recruit Audrey Totter as the voice of Joan’s other half. Though she would become one of film noir’s leading ladies, Totter at the time had made only two other movies; they were both released in 1945, the same year as Bewitched. Prior to this, however, she had already made a name for herself in radio, from which, no doubt, Oboler knew her. Though never seen (and uncredited), her scratchy, shrewish interpretation of the other half creates most of Bewitched’s thrills.

While Bewitched provides a decent evening at the movies, it could have been better. A more involved story, more science and more editing would have improved matters.

Nocturne (1946)

Directed by Edwin L Marin; produced by Joan Harrison

The theory that composer Keith Vincent (Edward Ashley) committed suicide may satisfy Lieutenant Halberson (Walter Sande) of the Los Angeles Police Department, but it doesn’t sit well with his colleague, Joe Warne (George Raft). For him, it’s a case of cherchez la femme, though there are rather too many ‘femmes’ to suspect.

A fairly standard detective movie, Nocturne doesn’t quite fit the standard film noir category. Though it has some elements, it seems more to be trying, than achieving. What else it doesn’t achieve is status good enough to recommend.

The plot is convoluted, relying partly on contrivance. For instance, we know the victim refered to the woman who is in his apartment when he dies as ‘Dolores’. Warne remarks that a similar notation on sheet music should make his job of locating the woman in the case easy. But it turns out that Vincent called all the women in his life ‘Dolores’. Why, we are never told. It seems just a device to lengthen the story.

Interestingly, Warne is first pulled off the Vincent case, and then suspended from the force, for his tenacity, and for upsetting too many citizens. I found the sensitivity of the police toward the public’s complaints to be a contrast to the usual situations in similar movies, in which the police could do pretty much as they liked without repercussions. Which is the more realistic portrayal of the times and place I can’t say.

Raft does a good job as the main character. Warne can take care of himself, but one gets the idea that Humphrey Bogart or maybe Pat O’Brien in one of his detective roles would not have been as long in solving the crime. There is one frustrating scene in which Warne misses the reaction a song has on a woman right at his table, because he is watching for a reaction from a second woman. This doesn’t impress the viewer, though Warne does take a couple of beatings more realistically than other crime-movie characters, and Raft is probably the only actor whose 40 year old character could live with his mother and still come across as tough.

The supporting cast is adequate. Lynn Bari plays the love-interest. She fills her role well, but there is no chemistry felt between her and Raft. For the short time they are on the screen together, he and Virginia Huston, who plays Bari’s character’s sister, seem to have more of a natural connection. John Banner has a small role as a commercial photographer.

The script is nothing special. The physical solution to the suicide / murder mystery seems far-fetched, and certainly nothing that the audience would come up with given the clues, while the motive just doesn’t appear strong enough. The direction gives us one very impressive tracking shot - the opening sequence - which begins over the entire city, then narrows through a wide window to Vincent at his piano. Done with special effects, it is probably the best thing in the film.

Over all, Nocturne is, if not routine, then not unusual, either. It doesn’t entertain or thrill enough to keep the viewer attentive, and interest in the whole story is maintained more to see the matter through than for any other reason.

It Happened in Broad Daylight (a.k.a. Es geschah am hellichten Tag; 1958)

Directed by Ladislao Vajda; produced by Lazar Wechsler and Artur Brauner

Oberleutnant Matthäi (Heinz Rühmann) is leaving the Zurich Cantonal Police to take a job re-organising the police in Jordan. Before he leaves Switzerland, however, he is called to one last murder-scene: that of a small child. Matthäi turns over the investigation to his successor, Lieutenant Heinzi (Siegfried Lowitz), who quickly arrests the peddlar who found the body. After an intense interrogation, the peddlar kills himself, and the case is considered closed. But Matthäi doesn’t believe in the peddlar’s guilt, and begins his own inquiries, which could bring himself - and innocent people - into danger.

A very entertaining and involving crime drama, It Happened in Broad Daylight is almost as interesting in its making; it is a very international film. A Swiss-Spanish-West German co-production, its dialogue is in German (the language of the setting) and stars mainly German and Swiss actors. Yet the principal female player (María Rosa Salgado) is Spanish, playing a Swiss, and there’s an Italian actor (Ettore Cella), while the director is a Hungarian, who made movies in Spain, Portugal, Italy, Germany and Britain, as well as his homeland. The picture’s cosmopolitan nature is demonstrated in the version I saw: in German with English sub-titles but with Spanish credits (which gives the title as it must be in Spain: El Cebo (The Bait).

Sometimes, such a collaboration can lead to muddle, but It Happened in Broad Daylight runs smoothly, thanks to the direction and script, and the lead actor. Rühmann was one of Germany’s most popular performers, starting in the theatre and moving into comedy films, later taking on more dramatic roles. He is perfectly cast here as the dedicated Matthäi. The other actors are just as good, though it is Rühmann who is the film’s centre. The only face that might be familiar to North American audiences is that of Gert Fröbe, who played the title character in Goldfinger.

The story is tense without being overly dramatic. It creates an intriguing character in Matthäi, who is not the obsessed detective one finds in many similar movies. The parents of the murdered child make him promise to find her killer, and he takes the promise seriously, but it doesn’t overwhelm him. Even leaving the police force in the first place he finds rather regretful, but little more than a natural career move for him. Nonetheless, he becomes dedicated in his hunt for the murderer.

The narrative is not really a mystery for the viewer, since we are shown the killer about three fifths of the way through the movie. But this does not ruin the story. Instead, it adds to the suspense, showing the acceleration toward the next crime from the criminal’s point of view, while Matthäi continues to struggle with finding the culprit.

The setting, for non-Europeans, is also of interest. For the most part, movies provide views and interpretations of Switzerland that look like they are half-travelogue, frequently with obligatory shots of mountains. Switzerland as seen here is rather a more work-a-day country, less intrinsically picturesque, more familiarly bu still exotic.

It Happened in Broad Daylight is an excellent crime and detective film; not a mystery, but exciting and entertaining even so.