No Way Out (1950)

Directed by Joseph L Mankiewicz; produced by Darryl F Zanuck

Two would-be robbers, The Biddle brothers, are brought to a metropolitan hospital, each suffering non-life-threatening bullet wounds from a policeman who interrupted their heist. A new doctor, Luther Brooks (Sidney Poitier), suspects something less obvious is killing one of the Biddles but, despite his treatment, the patient dies. The surviving brother, Ray (Richard Widmark) – a rabidly racist white man – rages against the young surgeon – a black man – but can do nothing. That state of affairs doesn’t last long as he begins his plan for deadly vengeance.

One of the most hard-hitting movies about racism to come out of Hollywood was among its first: No Way Out pulls no punches in either its depiction of ethnic hatred or its consequences. Nor does it soften the language that racism employs, language that I suspect a twenty-first century movie would be afraid to use, for all the modern era’s claims to sophistication. The director co-wrote the screenplay with Lesser Samuels and, while the brutal words command attention, there is also a subtlety in the script that might escape notice.

This was Poitier’s first credited movie role (hence his fourth place in the billing, after three performers much better known at the time) and, though so young he resembles an adolescent, his talent is clear. His character could have been little more than a two-dimensional victim, but the writers and Poitier create a real person who evolves quickly amid the frantic events of the film. Brooks is unsure of himself as yet; despite his claim of a thick skin, he is affected by Biddle’s taunts, and by the pressure of his new position. How he resolves his uncertainty is unexpected but logical.

Widmark could have swamped Poitier’s part with an exaggerated performance; the script, Poitier and Widmark himself prevent it. As a consequence, the villain comes across as human but, in being cunning rather than intelligent or even clever, he shows a bestial aspect that fits with his personality. Ray Biddle is supremely sure of himself, one of the many contrasts to Brooks: his certainty and Brooks’s see-saw back and forth in inverse proportion to each other’s.

Linda Darnell and Stephen McNally (the latter in a rare good-guy role) have supporting parts, but both are crucial to the story and to the story’s aim. Darnell plays a former wife of the dead robber, while McNally is the hospital’s chief resident, and Brooks’s strongest supporter.

In the four characters assumed by the actors, No Way Out demonstrates different aspects of racism. Brooks’s place is obvious, even if his reactions are three-dimensional. Biddle’s place seems equally patent, though we see his neighbourhood (“Beaver Canal”) and how he likely had little chance of being anything but what he is. His literally fevered cries of resentment over being ignored and unloved could be the pleas of a thousand Beaver Canals around the world; streets and slums left to wallow in misery.

Edie Johnson (Darnell) is, perhaps, more common in society than the other major characters. Basically decent, she too was raised in bigotry, and stays there because it makes a shallow sense to her. Confronted by the destruction she helps to cause, however, she rebels; still full of anger, but at herself as much as at anyone else, her attempts to ameliorate the situation may be too little too late.

Just as plentiful in the world are people like Dr Wharton (McNally), a truly good man, but one who can afford to be good. He has a fine job that he loves, a nice house, more than sufficient income. As well, his duties permit him to skirt moral issues. The hospital’s director, Sam Moreland (Stanley Ridges), makes a decision that would refuse peace of mind to Brooks and possibly damage his reputation, but does so in order to keep the good name of the hospital, ensuring the funds for life-saving equipment keep coming in. Dealing with politicians and self-serving bureaucrats, he remarks that in his case M.D. stands for ‘Master of Double-talk’, and urges his subordinate to “keep wearing that white coat”: practice medicine, not administration. Moreland’s sacrifice of principles allows Wharton to maintain his. Yet it’s telling that Wharton employs a black maid.

Other elements of racism are shown in Brooks’s family, in the gang that hangs out at the Beaver Canal pool-hall, even in the casual talk of hospital staff (“I heard the hospital had one [a black doctor]. This must be him.”) Expertly, there is no condemnation levied by the movie; it shows us human beings and lets the audience judge them, or not. There is more understanding of people in these characters than in any number of psychological studies.

But for all the talk and acting, No Way Out is also an excellent drama, full of tension. The preparation of two groups for a pitched race riot is breath-taking, and the climax is a stand-out.

No Way Out is one of the best of Hollywood’s movies about ethnic hatred, joining Intruder in the Dust, from a year earlier, in that category. While the latter depicts a terrifying, sad world of victims and perpetrators, No Way Out shows a frustrating one, in which the victims of one day might be the perpetrators of the next.

(Poitier and Widmark co-starred again in 1964’s The Long Ships, as different a film from No Way Out as one might get, with very different characters, as well. They were also in 1965’s The Bedford Incident.)