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.

Blood Work (2002)

Directed and produced by Clint Eastwood

At the scene of a crime, FBI agent Terry McCaleb (Clint Eastwood) sees someone he suspected was the serial killer he had been tracking. Giving chase, McCaleb suffers a severe heart attack and collapses. Two years later, the retired McCaleb is approached by Graciella Rivers (Wanda De Jesus), who wants his help in finding the murderer of her sister, killed during a convenience store robbery. When he learns that it was the dead woman’s heart that was transplanted into his chest, McCaleb decides to look into the unsolved felony, but finds old crimes, and old criminals, have yet to be laid to rest.

A largely ordinary crime/thriller, Blood Work nonetheless benefits from its leading man. Eastwood, 72 when he made this movie, may be a bit old for the part, though shaving a few years off that age for McCaleb is not unrealistic. Yet, ironically, it is Eastwood’s age that helps makes the character convincing.

Many movie detectives are weary of their jobs, of the world which they inhabit, the people with whom they must interact. McCaleb is tired, but more physically than anything else. He takes things slowly, gives no indication that he regrets his retirement and is happy to live quietly. Though unstated, it is implied that he was satisfied with catching killers and saving lives. But his bodily condition has put limitations on him, physically, and Eastwood convincingly plays a man who knows these limitations and tries to live accordingly.

De Jesus fills her role adequately, but doesn’t bring anything outstanding to the part. The other actors, except for Jeff Daniels and Paul Rodriguez, are mere place-fillers, Anjelica Huston’s thankless role as McCaleb’s doctor being a surprise. So too is Dylan Walsh as a police detective; though he had had bigger, fuller roles previously, notably in 1994’s Nobody’s Fool, he does little more here than follow Rodriguez about. And Rodriguez is an annoyingly abrasive and callous character of whom a viewer wants to see less.

Daniels makes the most of his contribution as McCaleb’s slacker neighbour, a self-proclaimed loser, who provides the enthusiasm that McCaleb is trying to control in himself, for the sake of his heart.

The story, though rather far-fetched, as many serial-killer movies tend to be, is at least interesting, though the revelation of the murderer’s motivation may be guessed by the more attentive viewer. There are a few good action scenes, but the climax is too drawn out and incredible. There is no reason why McCaleb could not have summoned police support for the confrontation with the killer. The romance between Eastwood and Rivers is understandable but perfunctory, and would probably have been better left as potential than actual.

A decent if unremarkable movie, Blood Work succeeds largely because Eastwood acts his age. For long a macho and robust performer, he leans into his literal weaknesses here, and adds more as the film’s lead actor than as its director and producer.

Night Train (a.k.a. Pociąg; 1959)

Directed by Jerzy Kawalerowicz; no producer credited

Jerzy (Leon Niemczyk) hurriedly boards an over-night train to the seaside. He appears desperate to get away from town, and buys both berths in his compartment in order to be alone. But already in the compartment is a young woman, Marta (Lucyna Winnicka), who was sold her ticket second-hand and, equally determined to get away, refuses to move. These are two of the several people on the crowded express, some bound for holidays, some searching for someone, and one individual flying from a murder, recently committed.

A quietly fascinating movie, Night Train builds interest for the viewer slowly. Its characters start off, almost all of them, aloof and rather annoying. As one comes to know them, however, sympathy is gained, and understanding is reached, and by the film’s conclusion one wants the best for all of them, even if some don’t deserve it.

Though often included in lists of film noir, Night Train is not in that genre. Nor should it be considered a psychological thriller, though it both thrills and is psychological. It is more of a character study of people, but in the context of growing tension and enlarging emotion. It is a drama, with touches of crime, romance and suspense.

The characters are intriguing. Jerzy is clearly hiding something, perhaps fleeing something, while Marta is, ironically, both running from a confrontation and racing toward one, hoping to find resolution for each. Other characters are Marta’s jilted lover (Zbigniew Cybulski); the greatly dissatisfied wife (Teresa Szmigielówna) of a lawyer; a concentration camp survivor (Zygmunt Zintel) suffering from insomnia; the carriage’s stewardess (Helena Dąbrowska); a know-it-all (Ignacy Machowski) who converses about a notorious homicide. Some seem silly or violent or boring; yet by the end the viewer sees that each has a sensitivity, a quality that mitigates their flaws.

The director / co-writer hit upon the idea of using a train as a separate world, cut off from the rest of life, its passengers a tiny community, forced to live together. This is not a new premise, but Kawalerowicz imbues it with an existential aspect. This is elaborated upon in the final scene, showing the train, emptied of its passengers and crew, resembling a ruin from the ancient past, with biscuit-wrappers and paper bags as relics for archaeologists to discover. Like the body, when the soul is gone, the train is a shell, and awaits reincarnation with new passengers.

The original Polish title of the film, Pociąg, which means simply ‘Train’, suggests a more general notion: that of being alone, temporarily part of a group, and then alone again. Almost all of the relationships are driven by a longing for companionship or love, however fleeting it may be. Yet, as Marta believes, everyone wants to be loved, but no one wants to love. There is anxiety even in finding someone.

Night Train also may be taken as a window on a communist country in the middle of the Cold War. There is less control than Westerners might think, yet the police are still to be obeyed without question. The train is very crowded, many passengers standing all night in filled corridors. Most people are pleased to be going on holiday. The movie is a social study in the best way, showing a mode of life incidentally.

Considered one of the best Polish movies, Night Train may be taken a number of ways. Some viewers might find it boring, but it conveys a truth that may be discovered in both life and in cinema: life is in the journey, not at the destination.

A Hill in Korea (a.k.a. Hell in Korea; 1956)

Directed by Julian Ames; produced by Anthony Squire

A small, detached unit of British soldiers is sent to reconnoitre a village during the Korean War. Most of the men, as well as the lieutenant in command, are National Servicemen, putting in their time as conscripts. When they find themselves cut off by Chinese units, it will take all the intelligence of the commander, the experience of his sergeant and the tenacity of his men to reach their own lines again.

The only remarkable aspect of A Hill in Korea is the number of actors in it who would achieve bigger things - some very big indeed - in their careers. The most famous of these are Michael Caine and Robert Shaw, who have small but prominent roles.

Stanley Baker (who would re-unite with Caine in 1964’s Zulu) was on the verge of stardom, as was Stephen Boyd, while George Baker, who is less known these days, plays the lieutenant. Also in the cast is tough Harry Andrews, and character actors Michael Medwin and Victor Maddern. Of note is Ronald Lewis as a disaffected private; Lewis had the makings of a star before his decline due to drinking.

All of this on-screen talent does not, however, translate to a superior movie. A Hill in Korea is certainly not bad. It has some good action scenes and decent dialogue, but nothing that really lifts it above the average.

The writing, for example, fills the unit with the usual diverse characters, and while the actual talk is entertaining, it is spoken by men we have seen in a dozen other war movies. There is the clever fellow, the one who thinks he’s better than the rest, the old campaigners, the grumblers, etc. And despite its obvious intent to laud the National Serviceman, it doesn’t really portray him as different than the regulars. A much better film about conscripts in war is The Way Ahead (1944), though what each film wanted to accomplish was a great contrast to the other.

The story-line is fairly routine, as well, with the men holding off enemy attacks with varying degrees of stolidity, while engaging in typical army banter, and periodically getting on each other’s nerves. Most war movies fall into sub-genres, and this one is squarely in the ‘small unit action’ category. It is not different from others in the field.

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While a passable time-filler, A Hill in Korea, despite the rare setting - it is, I think, the first British movie to have been placed in the Korean War - is not special. Even recognizing the actors is probably a more profitable game for movie-buffs, than for the general audience.

The Tattooed Stranger (1949)

Directed by Edward Montagne; produced by Jay Bonafield

The discovery of a woman’s corpse in a New York park begins a police inquiry that leads investigators Corrigan and Tobin (Walter Kinsella, John Miles) into the mean streets and crumbling buildings of the city’s slums. They must discover not only who killed the woman and why, but who she is. All they seem to have to go on is a tattoo on the victim’s wrist.

The Tattooed Stranger is an interesting movie with a glaring flaw that, while puzzling, nonetheless doesn’t eliminate the entertainment value of the film. That flaw is the terrible continuity in the movie. To be more accurate, the terrible discontinuity. Aside from the visual faults - when the detectives enter a diner a man is seen eating a meal; when they leave, though no one else had arrived or departed, it is clearly a different man, eating ice cream - the writing ignores itself.

The victim is supposedly shot in the face with a shotgun. One policeman says grimly, “Shotgun? It looks more like a bazooka!” Yet a photograph of the dead woman, obviously taken at the morgue, shows her face completely undamaged. The photo cannot have been an editing problem, since it is used repeatedly to question witnesses about the woman’s identity. There is also the fact that the victim’s tattoo is mentioned by Corrigan before he and Tobin are told that she had one.

If one skips over the intimation at the beginning that the cause of death also disfigured the victim, the rest of the screenplay makes more sense. But even so, how can The Tattooed Stranger be recommended? The setting, direction and supporting players make this movie worth watching.

The movie makes excellent use of real-life New York of the day. It is shot on-location. In many movies, even as late as the 1950s, the slummy districts of a city would be artificial constructs on a sound-stage. Here, we see parts of Brooklyn and the Bronx that probably disappeared in urban renewal within a decade of The Tattooed Stranger’s release. Corrigan and Tobin visit clapboard terrace-houses and chase villains through hard-scrabble back gardens that I’ve not seen in movies previously. The tattoo-parlours of The Bowery are featured prominently.

Secondly, though the principal actors are adequate, it is the supporting players, the witnesses, the business-owners, who add to the authenticity suggested by the locations. Tattoo-shop managers, diner-owners, passers-by, all have the feel of people who lived in the ramshackle districts the police visit; it’s as if the casting director saw an interesting face in the crowd and offered $10 for a few lines. Yet these realistic bit-players are credible actors.

Added to this is the detail of the investigation. The writing, for all its mistakes, does a good job of combining the two elements of modern detective work: science and leg-work. Hours of telephoning restaurants and employment agencies, and miles of streets walked interviewing people are shown beside analyses of unusual grasses and studies of types of stone.

Lead actor John Miles made no more movies after The Tattooed Stranger. He had appeared in nineteen films in the previous six years, mostly in small, uncredited bit-parts. Ironically, his first starring role was in his last film. Why he quit movie-acting at only 27, and if he continued his profession elsewhere, i have not been able to discover. Jack Lord has a small part as a crime-analysis detective.

While The Tattooed Stranger has an inexplicable problem with its script, it does not prove fatal to the enjoyment of the film which, aside from being a pretty good police procedural, will also be of interest to film buffs and social historians. If you like all three elements, as I do, then this is a must-see movie.