Mystery Street (1950)

Directed by John Sturges; produced by Frank E Taylor

A dance-hall girl (Jan Sterling) is having bad luck with men, and her luck gets worse when she insists on seeing her latest boyfriend. The implication is blackmail, but she is the one who pays. He kills her, buries her body and sinks in a pond the car she stole. Months later, her remains are found and the investigation begins. Not only must the cop (Ricardo Montalban) on the case find out how the victim died, but who she was. This starts a tortuous process that leads the police – and their suspects – down a crooked path.

The title suggests a light-hearted whodunit with an amateur sleuth, perhaps a married couple exchanging witticisms as they investigate, à la Nick and Nora Charles. Instead, Mystery Street is an unsentimental, realistic police procedural with a touch of film noir. The writing credits are impressive: Richard Brooks (Key Largo, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof) collaborates with Sydney Boehm (When Worlds Collide, Union Station) to create a strong screenplay that says as much without words as with them.

Of note is the use and detailed descriptions of forensic anthropology, possibly the first of its kind in movies. A Harvard University professor (Bruce Bennett) is key in helping solve the case. It was interesting for me to note how similar his explanations are to those used by literary character Gideon Oliver (another forensic anthropologist) in books written three and four decades later. The expostulations are matched by the expectations that the audience is smart enough to follow them.

At first, the murderer’s identity is hidden, but when continued obscurity does not have serve the story and is wisely discarded, it’s clear that the killer’s face went unseen only for atmosphere. The mystery is not, then, ‘whodunit’, but how the police will prove it.

The characters are memorable. Montalban’s detective is strong and far removed from stereotyped Latin policemen, though he is not flawless. Eager in his first homicide case, he is first skeptical, then reliant, upon medical science, and is too single-minded in his pursuit of his initial suspect. (His character’s antecedents are, for a viewer who likes accurate detail, a bit puzzling: attached to the Barnstable (County) District Attorney’s Office – which accounts for his immediate involvement in the case – he later states that he worked primarily in the ‘Portuguese district’ (of Boston). At one point, he describes himself as a ‘stranger’ at Harvard, though his colleague, definitely a Bostonian, admits that he is lost at the university, too: ‘not my part of Boston.’ It’s assumed, therefore, that Montalban had left the city for the better prospects of Cape Cod.)

The victim’s busybody landlady is likewise well-written, though nowhere near as sympathetic; the Harvard doctor is suitably intelligent; the principal suspect (Marshall Thompson) realistically foolish. More minor characters have reasons for their inclusion.

John Sturges is credited with directing Bad Day at Black Rock and The Great Escape, among other movies. The direction appears ordinary yet creates a suspenseful, involving atmosphere; like a musical score, one doesn’t realise how skilled it is and how it contributes to a scene, until it is finished. The setting of the movie in Massachusetts, and the location filming in Boston and at the seaside, are refreshing in a time when crime movies, if not filmed on a sound-stage, were placed either in New York or Los Angeles.

As for the acting, it is top-notch. Montalban was very well-known as a leading man, though never in the bigger films. His performances, unfortunately, became quite hammy as time went on, but in the 1940s and ‘50s, they were natural and convincing. The writing of the other characters would not have survived intact if they had not been brought to life by competent players. Elsa Lanchester is infuriatingly conniving as the landlady.

A largely unknown film, Mystery Street is another entertaining B-movie that rises above the image created by the category’s name. Interesting, as well as involving, it benefits very well from the talent that went into it.

Roughshod (1949)

Directed by Mark Robson; produced by Richard H Berger

Clay Phillips (Robert Sterling) and his younger brother, Steve (Claude Jarman Jr), having just established their ranch, are bringing ten horses to their new home in Sonora, California, from Aspen, Colorado. After initially expecting an easy journey, they find their route complicated; first, by news that a convicted murderer (John Ireland) has escaped prison, swearing revenge against the elder Phillips, and then by four saloon women, needing an escort to their next destination after being evicted from Aspen. Between girls and guns, the Phillips boys will have a tough time getting home.

With elements of Westward the Women and High Noon, Roughshod doesn’t really manage to combine them effectively. The story remains two parts, with the male/female conflict/romance predominating. It’s hard to determine whether either half would have made an entertaining movie on its own; together, Roughshod becomes merely adequate.

Relationships are the strongest feature in the movie. That between the brothers is the most interesting, which was probably not the intention. We learn more about the siblings than we do about the bar-girls, and as a result invest more in their characters. The women (the principal of whom is played by the always watchable Gloria Grahame) are more ephemeral characters; we learn why they are on the trail west, and something of one girl’s past, but little else.

The acting is good. Leading man Sterling was already a veteran of many movies and, while capable, shows the lack of presence that kept him from reaching the higher levels of stardom. Canadian-born John Ireland never has a problem emitting an aura of real menace (despite being the sympathetic reporter in All the King’s Men, also from 1949), and plays the villain well. The acting credits go primarily, however, to young Jarman, whose portrayal of a boy becoming a man is never annoying and always realistic.

Action is not a big part of the film, despite the inevitable shoot-out at the end. As may be inferred by the comment about the amount relationships take up in the story, Roughshod is more talk than fighting. The direction never rises to the challenge of making either the dialogue or the action exciting or involving, despite Robson’s better work before and after this picture.

In short, Roughshod is not exactly a routine western, but neither is it very entertaining. It is one of those movies the premise of which sounded more promising than the execution turned out to be.

Frozen II (2019)

Directed by Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee; produced by Peter Del Vecho

After dangerous and exciting adventures, Queen Elsa (voice of Idina Menzel) and her sister, Princess Anna (voice of Kristen Bell), have spent several years in quiet contentment with their people in the Kingdom of Arendelle. But as Anna contemplates the inconstancy of things in life, Elsa begins hearing a magical voice, a voice that becomes a summons she can’t resist. She, Anna, the latter’s boyfriend, Kristoff (voice of Jonathan Groff), and Olaf the snowman (Josh Gad) go in search of the voice’s origin. What they find will change all of them.

It’s perhaps a movie cliche that sequels are never as good as the originals, and this is the case with Frozen II. One of the problems is that originals, whether movies, books or vocal recordings, are often made after years of preparation, honing stories, phrases, sounds, and getting everything just right. Sequels are distributed as soon as something can be slapped together that will be finished enough to draw a paying crowd.

Frozen II is not as bad as that. It is, in fact, not bad at all - but neither is it very good. Something that is missing here appears to be direction - not the kind that determines who says what when, but the kind that keeps a story on its appropriate path. With the initial song, the subject of which is inevitable change, a viewer expects that to be the theme; the movie ends with that sentiment. But in between, it meanders. Other story elements are introduced: a secret from the Arendelle Royal Family’s past; Kristoff’s attempt to propose to Anna; nature-spirits; a little fire-lizard (salamander?) whose flames cause some excitement but are essentially a waste of five minutes of the film… Some of these aspects of the story go nowhere.

Aside from aimless sub-plots, there are features of the writing that are not consistent, such as Elsa’s encounters with the nature-spirits. These sometimes take the form of an angry ocean, at other times a horse made of ice; likewise they are variable in their reaction to Elsa, sometimes seeming to help her and other times hindering her, eventually even freezing her. How was that last action accomplished, given Elsa’s powers, we don’t learn. And the origin of the mysterious voice is pretty much a shaggy dog story: was Elsa being called? Was the entity behind the voice conscious? Was its intent to bring Elsa to her destination?

As well, details are not as thoroughly considered as in the first movie. Now, Arendelle seems to comprise little more than the town of that name. Elsa is queen but when she travels, she has to borrow a peasant’s cart. Knowledge of the setting’s background seems scanty compared to the preceding film.

The songs are forgettable. There is usually one blockbuster, a memorable tune, an instance of great singing, in a musical. There is nothing of the sort here, though Kristoff’s lament regarding his love for Anna sticks in the mind for odd reasons. Out of place compared to the other show-tunes, it is a 1980s-style song, in which the back-up chorus is supplied by reindeer. I have no idea whether it was meant to be taken seriously or not.

The animation remains first-rate. There are a number of scenes in which the facial expressions of the characters are very realistic, even if the faces themselves remain the exaggerated forms of cartoons. In particular, there is a moment when Elsa is contemplating a raging sea, and the viewer knows exactly what she is thinking, despite the absence of words, or even of motion in her countenance.

Despite the number of negative paragraphs overwhelming the positive in this review, Frozen II was perfectly watchable; certainly it’s better than most animated fare offered these days. But it could have been much better. Its principal fault is a lazy story and uncertain themes. Frozen deserved either a much better sequel – or none at all.

Crime Wave (1953)

Directed by André de Toth; produced by Bryan Foy

In the aftermath of a violent gasoline station robbery, one of the three perpetrators (Ted de Corsia, Charles Buchinsky, Ned Young) seeks help from a former convict (Gene Nelson), now a parolee with a loving wife (Phyllis Kirk), a good job and a decent home. The ex-prisoner wants nothing to do with his old life, but circumstances quickly coerce him into helping his erstwhile acquaintances. Hot on his trail, though, is the most ruthless and unforgiving police detective (Sterling Hayden) the city has. Caught between the cop and the crooks, an innocent man will have a hard time surviving.

A tough and tense film, Crime Wave is a late entry into the era of black and white film noir – but better late than never. It has all the elements of a good example of the genre. The writing is lean and terse; there are few extraneous lines, certainly none spoken by the main characters. What we learn about Nelson comes from the police and the criminals discussing him; what we learn about Hayden is that he’s given up smoking.

The acting is very good. The stand-outs are, predictably, Hayden as a cop who comes as close to being despicable as one can without being an actual criminal, and Nelson, who, while not really exuding warmth and charm (his situation, squeezed between law and disorder, rather precludes this), nonetheless makes us wish everyone would just leave him alone. But all are convincing here. De Corsia is a smooth villain who gives the impression that he would let bad things happen, rather than commit them himself, and Buchinsky – better known later as Bronson – is the one he’d let do them. It’s interesting to see how the two actors each convey a different sense of menace. Jay Novello is a former doctor, now a veterinarian, so low he rifles the pockets of a corpse for money – but compassionate enough to refuse to put down a dog the owners of whom don’t want anymore.

Familiar faces may be seen in Dubb Taylor (he later dropped one the B’s and became a western-film character actor) as the gas station attendant, and Hank Worden as an airport manager.

De Toth makes fine use of Los Angeles locations, and the expansiveness of the city as compared with, for instance, the canyon-like streets of New York, is ably depicted. He creates real tension in a number of scenes, such as the invasion of Nelson’s home by the criminals, and the climax. The whole movie provides suspense in the question of what will happen to Nelson and Kirk, especially since both sides of the law are after them. The denouement offers a surprise.

Though film noir continued into the age of colour movies, it lost something in the transition. The monochrome process itself was a component of the genre, recording a world that was gritty and harsh. Crime Wave shows why black-and-white photography continued to be used for film noir so long: a low-budget picture with a hard, unsentimental story that will satisfy.