The Sleeping City (1950)

Directed by George Sherman; produced by Leonard Goldstein

The conventional investigation into the seemingly inexplicable murder of an intern at a big New York City hospital leads nowhere, so the inspector in charge (John Alexander) turns to his ‘confidential squad’ and puts Detective Fred Rowan (Richard Conte) under cover. His search for the killer isn’t easy, and before its conclusion, his own life is endangered.

The Sleeping City was a surprise to me; a double surprise, actually. Initially, I was disappointed. The first half-hour was filled with bad writing, pointless detail and unsatisfactory acting – indeed, over-acting.

The writer seemed dazzled by the fact that he was able to set his story in a real hospital - Bellevue - and took a great effort to include scenes showing the workings of the institution, the routines, the organisation. Usually, I am in favour of such information, but only if it is given integrally to the story, presented as seamlessly as possible. At one point, Alexander explains to a doctor that he has three ‘inspector’s men’ available for miscellaneous and undercover work, the identities of whom are unknown even to other policemen. This presentation, whether true or not (I suspect it was, for that era), has a point in the context of the script. But an extended tour of the hospital, accompanied by unfunny attempts at humorous dialogue, does not.

Added to this was the unnecessary prologue, given by Conte (as himself) disclaiming that any of the movie’s events actually happened at Bellevue. That this otherwise accomplished actor appeared to be reading the lines from cue-cards (contrary to his clearly memorised lines in the rest of the film) further disillusioned me as to The Sleeping City’s possibilities. I thought that Conte, who had done better and would do better, was slumming.

Then, I was surprised again. As The Sleeping City progressed, the plot’s mystery deepened, while, at the same time, some of what I first thought were disadvantages were shown to be part of the story. Plot-holes were filled in, and over-acting became over-reacting, a much more legitimate aspect of a story, if true to a character.

The story builds well after that. There is a good moment when Rowan, unable to break his cover, is questioned by police officers unaware that he’s an ‘inspector’s man’. The climax is an exciting one.

By its finish, The Sleeping City is a bit more worthy of its lead. The other actors are not so well-known. Alexander, a stage as well as cinema performer, is best known for playing Teddy in Arsenic and Old Lace. Colleen Gray, the female lead, was paired with Conte two years previously in Cry of the City, while Peggy Dow, who plays a nurse, retired after just nine movies, including Harvey. Nonetheless, the supporting players are adequate.

If one makes it through the clunky, clumsy first third, The Sleeping City will provide an entertaining story, the plot of which makes sense, eventually.

711 Ocean Drive (1950)

Directed by Joseph M Newman; produced by Frank N Seltzer

Once a telephone repairman, Mal Granger (Edmond O’Brien) was hired by Vince Walters (Barry Kelly), a bookmaking-gangster hoping to expand his business by a more rational use of communications. Granger not only sorted out the confusion in Walters’s operation but eventually became the latter’s partner, at last taking over the business. But now, Granger’s expansive activities - and his growing profits - have attracted the attention of others - policemen and gangsters - neither of whom have his best interests at heart.

Edmond O’Brien acted - indeed, starred - in so many film noir movies (including two of the best, White Heat and D.O.A.) that it’s hard to believe his first cinematic role was that of a fifteenth century French poet, in The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939). He seemed to spend half his time in movies on one side of the law, and half on the other, while creating characters that were never entirely good or bad. Here, he makes a plausible character who is always looking for a quick way to become rich, and so is easily seduced by the rapid wealth to be made in criminality.

At the beginning of the movie, Granger is shown to be impatient but likeable, generous and sympathetic to those who need more than he does. The interesting thing is that these qualities never quite leave Granger, though they are more and more isolated by the hardness that envelopes him as a result of his activities. This successful depiction is partly due to the writing and partly to the acting.

Other performers do as well. Joanne Dru plays a gangster’s wife who clearly is unhappy in her marriage. Her character is a sad one in that she admits knowing what her husband was before she married him, came to regret it, but eyes Granger as a more caring prospect, despite knowing what he too is like. There are few other characters who are really fleshed out, except perhaps Sammy White’s Chippie. He too is a tragic figure, bound to his nefarious life more by loyalty than by money. Otto Kruger manages almost to make his mob boss look classy, rather than oily; almost, but not quite.

But 711 Ocean Drive is a tragedy in the classic sense: the story of a man whose inevitable downfall comes from his own faults and flaws. The plot does a good job of moving the events along, of digging Granger’s hole deeper and deeper.

The script draws out the conclusion rather too long, I think; it wanted to take advantage of its setting at Boulder Dam, and perhaps used that too much. Nonetheless, it provides a very credible look at a criminal operation and how technology affects it; the writer obviously knew his subject.

Though offering little new, 711 Ocean Drive (an address which is never mentioned in the film but probably refers to O’Brien’s beach-front house) gives good entertainment, based on the lead’s performance, and the timeless tragedy of greed and hubris.

Deadline at Dawn (1946)

Directed by Harold Clurman; produced by Adrian Scott

Sailor Alex Winkler (Bill Williams) wakes from an unprecedented binge and finds $1,400 in his pocket. He recollects that he stole it in a passing moment of anger at being cheated at a crooked card game, and, now remorseful, sets out to return the cash. Reluctant to admit his crime to the victim, he enlists the aid of June (Susan Hayward), a jaded dance-hall girl. But what he really needs is her help in proving his innocence when the woman from whom he took the money is found murdered.

This is an unusual crime-drama, prompted by the screenplay by Clifford Odets. The story itself, from the prolific pen of Cornell Woolrich (writing as William Irish) is pretty ordinary, and has little of Woolrich’s irony or plot-twists. Red herrings abound but clues fall into laps, rather than are hunted down. The interest here lies not so much in the mystery as in the attempts to solve it.

As Alex and June search for the killer, they encounter a number of individuals, some of whom have a part to play in the story, some of whom provide misdirection, and others merely atmosphere. The action takes place during a sultry New York night, and the nocturnal residents of the city are made human by their comments and behaviour. Despite the hour (the story runs from about two in the morning to six), no one is sleeping; there are cabbies working, cheap crooks hustling, drunks wandering; these provide the secondary and tertiary characters in Deadline at Dawn.

Odets gives most of these fleeting people personalities, if only hinted at, but makes them real and comprehensible: the fruit-vendor who wants to sell his last bunch of bananas so he can go home, the cat-owner panicky over his pet’s condition, the building manager angry at having too much work to do (though he doesn’t seem to be doing any). Even so, these don’t seem peculiarly New York residents; rather they could be typical denizens of any big city, not even American: just an entertaining assortment of individuals.

As for the main characters, Alex is called an “innocent” and “a baby” by June (Williams’ boyish appearance makes him seem younger than Hayward), but he has intelligence - his summary of what they know of the murder would impress a police detective - and is instinctively knowledgeable, if not worldly. June is more conventional: a young woman matured too soon by the cynical city. Gus the taxi-driver (Paul Lukas) is a philosopher in a minor way, someone with a sad past.

The title may make Deadline at Dawn sound like a hard-hitting story of investigative journalism; the catalytic homicide puts it in the crime or mystery genre; the night-time, big city setting suggests film noir. If at all, the film only touches these categories. It’s more of an adventure film, at times a light-hearted travelogue. Its dialogue is full of incidental insights and meandering thoughts.

This description might imply that Deadline at Dawn is more innovative or intellectual than it is. It is, in truth, a good story, entertaining and enjoyable, all in moderate amounts. A little different but not striking, the film will pleasantly fill 83 minutes, perhaps one sweltering summer night, when the viewer can’t sleep.

23 Paces to Baker Street (1956)

Directed by Henry Hathaway; produced by Henry Ephron

American playwright Phillip Hannon (Van Johnson) has lived in London since he went blind. Somewhat bitter at life, he nonetheless carries on, aided by his secretary, Bob Matthews (Cecil Parker). One evening, though, while sitting in a neighbourhood pub, he overhears a plot to commit, if not a criminal act, then a highly immoral one, involving betrayal and possibly violence. When the police tell him that he has given them nothing to follow up, Hannon, Matthews and the former’s erstwhile girlfriend (Vera Miles), try to stop people they don’t know from perpetrating something they can’t guess.

I’m certain that the set-up for 23 Paces To Baker Street – individuals unseen heard planning a crime - has been used numerous times, but there are only so many premises that can be original. Nonetheless, it’s what a book or movie does with the premise that makes or breaks it, and fortunately, 23 Paces to Baker Street does well enough to create an entertaining mystery.

Unlike Hotel Reserve, reviewed last week on this blog, the trio of amateur investigators in this film follow a more or less logical series of endeavours to find the criminals - if criminals they are - and, while some of their inquiries lead to dead ends, they help expand the characters, if not the plot. And there is an obsession for Hannon - the feeling that he is missing something fundamental about the villain (‘Mr Evans’) - that always hovers in the background. The climax is a good one, and anticipates that of 1967’s Wait Until Dark.

The characters are the weakest part of the movie. Hannon has seemingly run away from New York, perhaps to get away from old commitments, but his irascible personality seems more a part of who he is than due to his blindness. Miles’s character has little depth and Matthews is played for amusement as much as for the plot, though he isn’t that amusing.

The acting is good. Johnson cannot be said to be a charismatic performer, but he has always given competent service in the movies, and is watchable. Here he makes a mildly sympathetic lead, who becomes more involving as the movie progresses. The minor characters, played by British actors, lend veracity and interest. They are, in fact, more interesting than the leads.

Good use is made of London’s locations: the Thames, affluent districts, local neighbourhoods. Advantage is taken of the fact that eleven years after the Second World War, the Metropolis was still rebuilding its ruins. There is a strange misplacement of Hannon’s flat, though: it overlooks the river, indeed, seems to be on the Embankment; its views are those of the Savoy Hotel. Yet several times, its address is given as Portman Square, which is far ‘inland’.

23 Paces to Baker Street - a title that relates not at all to the plot - is not a major entry in the mystery/crime genre of films, but is a fun, undemanding movie. (Note: producer Ephron was the father of writer/director/producer Nora Ephron.)