Footsteps in the Dark (1941)

Directed by Lloyd Bacon; produced by Robert Lord (associate producer)

Francis Monroe Warren (Errol Flynn) has everything: a successful and undemanding career as an investment broker, wealth, a large house, servants, a pretty, loving wife (Brenda Marshall) to whom he’s devoted, even a admiring mother-in-law. He also has a secret life. Most days, Warren leaves his office and goes to a small suburban house where he writes mysteries under the pseudonym of F X Pettijohn. His lives are about to become complicated, however, with the death of a prospective client, and a criminal investigation in which he tries to keep one step ahead of the police – and his newly suspicious spouse.

After five consecutive period roles (seven, if one counts The Dawn Patrol), all dramas, Flynn chose to star in this light-hearted comedy, set in contemporary times. Despite the moderate response from audiences, he made a good choice: Footsteps in the Dark is, if not a hilarious side-splitter, a fun, entertaining movie that shows Flynn could be amusing.

The story is a fairly typical movie mystery, with the murderer rather easily spotted. There are plot-holes and incongruities – such as what the victim (Noel Madison) knew when he insinuated blackmail against Warren – and the clues and their results are no more than what might be found in the average 1970s tv detective series. Nor are we told much about the characters. It is not explained why Warren wrote his book – which makes liberal and possibly libelous use of his mother-in-law’s ladies’ club – or where his money came from (inheritance? His work?). Why a police inspector should take an interest, however casual, in a death by heart-attack is unknown, as well.

The fun, however, isn’t really in solving the riddle or dissecting characters, but in the actions and reactions of Flynn and other cast members. Warren is portrayed as an easy-going gentleman who takes an even easier-going approach to his job. His interaction with Inspector Mason (Alan Hale) of the Homicide Bureau is a good one. How it started is a mystery in itself, though it’s clear that despite the verbal barbs, they like each other. The chemistry is probably reflective of Flynn and Hale’s relationship: the two collaborated in at least half a dozen films.

Other characters are more stock. William Frawley is tiresome as a truly dense copper though Allen Jenkins helps as Warren’s secretary and chauffeur, and only confidante in his writing. Brenda Marshall has a bit of depth as the wife; she worked with Flynn in 1935’s The Sea Hawk. Ralph Bellamy has little reason to show his skills in his part as a dentist.

The writing is mediocre, with few memorable lines, though Mason’s explanation of why a crime-writer might seem a successful detective, with his already-solved mystery spread over three hundred pages of red herrings and false suspects, is dead-on. Other than the previously mentioned plot-holes, there are other head-scratchers. Turhan Bey has a small but interesting part as the murder-victim’s servant, an Indian who respects gentlemen no matter their race. He may have been included for a touch of exoticism, but disappears half-way through the movie.

Then there is Lee Patrick as the loud and obvious burlesque queen Blondie White. The movie is from an era which recognised the attractiveness of Rita Hayworth, Betty Grable and Ava Gardner, so I had to wonder if the professions of devotion from her male fans – and the pretence of love from Warren (trying to prise information from Blondie) – were intended as a gag.

It is perhaps invidious to compare Footsteps in the Dark to something such as The Thin Man, despite a proposed series based on the former, in the vein of the latter. The Thin Man, and some of its sequels, were written by Tony- and Pulitzer-prize winners. Footsteps in the Dark’s script is not witty or intelligent; this, combined with the unusual casting of Flynn, may have hurt the film’s box office. Even so, the movie is an enjoyable hour and a half, thanks to the lead and the happy-go-lucky atmosphere of the story.

 

Hollywood Story (1951)

Directed by William Castle; produced by Leonard Goldstein

Larry O’Brien (Richard Conte), a successful film producer, moves his operations from New York to Los Angeles, where his old friend, Mitch Davis (Jim Backus), has suggested renovating an abandoned movie studio. Touring the lot, O’Brien’s imagination is fired by a story told by an aged security guard (Houseley Stevenson) about an infamous murder that took place in a bungalow on the property: in 1929, a renowned film director was shot dead, and his killer never caught. O’Brien determines to make a movie about the case. But the movie’s plot demands a resolution to the unsolved murder, and someone will stop at nothing to keep O’Brien’s movie unmade.

An entertaining mystery with an unusual angle, Hollywood Story incorporates a number of clever ideas, including the often intriguing riddle of an old, notorious murder. The killing is probably based on that of director William Desmond Taylor, who was shot to death in 1922; his killer was never arrested. The suspects included a number of well-known motion picture stars. Hollywood Story doesn’t try to get to the bottom of that crime, but uses it as inspiration.

This allows the inclusion of a number of former movie actors in cameos. Though there isn’t really a clear reason for their appearance - Are they to act in O’Brien’s  film? Are they technical advisers? - they provide verisimilitude. Their names - Helen Gibson, William Farnum and especially Francis X Bushman - would have been familiar to many in 1951. Yet it is thought-provoking that 1929, only twenty-two years before the release of Hollywood Story, seems more like an eon previously than a mere two decades. If a present-day film were to invoke names from 2002, there would hardly be the feeling of the distant past.

Yet the Silent Era must indeed have seemed distant to movie-makers and audiences of 1951, with sound an integral part of all movies and even colour becoming common-place. Francis X Bushman was an immensely popular actor in his time - ‘the handsomest man in Hollywood’ - who portrayed Messala in the first Ben-Hur (1925), yet he evidently faded fast from public memory. Joel McCrea has an uncredited cameo in Hollywood Story; he too is unknown to many, but probably known to many more than Bushman. Black and white westerns are undoubtedly viewed more often by film fans now than are silent epics.

Even without such entertaining ingredients, Hollywood Story is an enjoyable motion picture. Fictional characters from the past are included as well as the real, and it is they, as may be guessed, who contribute to the plot. In particular, Henry Hull provides a fine, fun performance as a dissolute screenwriter, who may or may not have been good at one time. Fred Clark projects his usual persona of anger and annoyance effectively; his confrontation with O’Brien over the alleged murder weapon is well-written. Former leading man (though not quite of the Silent Era) Paul Cavanagh has a good rôle as a potential suspect. His relatively small part is that of a former leading man reduced to taking small parts. And Conte himself is credible as a man easily obsessed, with enough power in the business to indulge his obsessions.

There are disadvantages. Julie Adams (billed as Julia Adams) is the obligatory love interest, but her character and O’Brien don’t seem overly attracted to one another. The narration by Backus’s character is pointless, and would have had more significance if given to Conte. And I can’t figure out why one character confesses to a second murder.

The actual story - the mystery - is pretty good, with clues found by the amateurs which might actually have been overlooked in the original police investigation, and the writing is believable. There is also cleverness and irony - perhaps written with tongue in cheek - in the climax, which provides a unique example of why movies sometime change real-life endings. William Castle performs a satisfactory job directing Hollywood Story, a few years before he turned to gimmicky and very low budget horror films.

Hollywood Story has a fairly standard ‘forgotten murder’ mystery that is given life and novelty by its setting and writing.

Valkyrie (2008)

Directed by Bryan Singer; produced by Gilbert Adler, Christopher McQuarrie and Bryan Singer

In 1944, a group of well-placed German civilians and army officers plan to assassinate their country’s leader, Adolf Hitler. Led by Generals von Tresckow (Kenneth Branagh) and Olbricht (Bill Nighy), the group recruits dissident Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg (Tom Cruise), who will carry out the actual attempt. Hoping to end the world war and save countless lives, as well as their country, the small group of men gamble everything to rid the Earth of a tyrant.

A well-directed, acted and produced film, Valkyrie provides excitement and tension, as well as telling a compelling story in a compelling manner. The script treats the audience intelligently. There is a wealth of names and detail, but the movie is confident that the viewers will be able to digest it all. As an example, one scene has the conspiracy’s explosives expert, Colonel Mertz von Quirnheim (Christian Merkel), explain that the windowless reinforced bunker in which the assassination will occur negates the need for a large bomb, as the air pressure in the virtually sealed building would magnify the blast. On the day of the attempt, however, the vital briefing is moved to a ‘conference hut’. Stauffenberg walks to it, staring at its tall, open windows. It is assumed the audience understands the implication.

For all that, the script nonetheless is explicit where it needs to be. The plan to kill Hitler was both simple (as many of the best plans are) but ingenious. Walkürie was the Nazis’ contingency operation to use the Berlin-based Reserve Army to suppress riot and rebellion if the German people rose up against them. The conspirators intended to use Walkürie for their own purpose: killing Hitler and blaming the act on a combined SS/Gestapo coup d’état; the conspirators would implement Walkürie, use it to eliminate the entire Nazi leadership and take control of the government. This scheme is elaborated concisely and clearly by the characters. But one still must pay attention.

The direction is necessarily taut. A study of such an event would provide enough material for an hours-long documentary, but for a thriller - which is what Valkyrie is - extraneous material needs to be jettisoned. This must be balanced with the requirements of exposition, as noted above. The director, Singer, and editor, John Ottman - who also composed the film’s music - are successful in this. The running time is an unexpectedly brief 121 minutes, but there are no slow moments.

The acting is very good. Cruise, as Stauffenberg, is probably the least of the cast, though this is composed of excellent veterans such as Nighy, Branagh, Tom Wilkinson, Terence Stamp and Kenneth Cranham. Nonetheless, Cruise is perfectly capable in the role. There was some comment from German critics that he was he was an American Stauffenberg, rather than a European Stauffenberg, and that he lacked an indefinable aristocracy. This fine difference will likely be lost on most North American audiences. Philipp von Schulthess, Stauffenberg's real-life grandson, appears as Tresckow's aide.

Movies in which all the characters are meant to be speaking their own, non-English language, even though the scripts are in English, sometimes bring derision, but I’ve always assumed that the tongue they are speaking is their own, and any distinctions are due to characters’ regional and social origins. An interesting dilemma in Valkyrie might have been Hitler’s manner of speech. With all the other actors using their natural accents, it might seem incongruous to have David Bamber portray the dictator with a German accent. But I imagine the director and producers thought hearing Hitler speak as though he were from Ohio or Oxford might be far too distracting for viewers. Bamber practised Hitler’s Austrian accent which, apparently, was a contrast to that used in his speeches, and which made him stand out among native Germans. Thus Hitler’s dialect poses no problem.

In such a film, or, rather, when a film must concentrate on certain aspects, detailed character analysis is sacrificed. Thus we learn very little of the personalities of the different conspirators, Stauffenberg’s alone being the exception, and even he is given only a sketch. A study of the plotters and their motives would fill books or whole tv series - which it has. Certainly, some conspirators - such as Berlin’s police president Helldorf and his superior, Nebe - were opportunistic and amoral, leaning whichever way would ensure their survival. Others, such as Stauffenberg and Quirnheim, had early moral objections to the Nazis. Indeed, Tresckow’s life alone would make for an intriguing movie, as he seemed to be the driving force behind the 20 July 1944 plot. (In fact, one of his quotes about Hitler is transferred to Stauffenberg in the film.)

Aside from the scantiness of the attention given to the characters themselves, Valkyrie is an exceptional historical film, in that it provides as much accuracy as possible within the framework of a Hollywood thriller. It should satisfy a range of viewers for a range of reasons.

Criss Cross (1949)

Directed by Robert Siodmak; produced by Michel Kraike

Steve Thompson returns to Los Angeles after years of travelling the United States, having, he hoped, rid himself of the memory of Anna (Yvonne De Carlo). It didn’t work, and as soon as he comes home, he starts looking for her. When he learns both that she still loves him but has nonetheless taken up with the crooked Slim Dundee (Dan Duryea), for his money, Steve plots an armoured car heist that will get him the cash to win Anna and settle with Dundee at the same time.

Criss Cross has the elements that make it an essential entry in the category of American film noir. The characters, the writing, the direction, the photography and the lighting all contribute.

The story is straightforward - so straightforward, in fact, that the tragedy may be seen coming in the first few minutes. This is the screenplay’s intention. It creates a sense of foreboding from the opening scene. When a character states that the past should be forgotten, and ‘we’ll start again’, the viewer knows things are not going to work out well. But such is the story-telling that, like Steve’s obsession with Anna, the viewer feels compelled to go on.

The acting is excellent. Lancaster’s Steve may seem to be very similar to his Swede, from his first film, The Killers (1946), especially in his attraction to a woman who is no good for him. Yet here, he replaces the Swede’s fatalism with blind optimism, and creates quite a different aura because of it.

De Carlo matches him step by step, making her Anna one of film’s worst (or is it best?) femmes fatale, a woman superficially - both physically and emotionally - winning and earnest. What lies beneath the surface is given form by a most convincing performance.

Duryea receives a prominent third billing, and he’s very much a big part of the film. He gives what many might consider a stereotyped performance, one that he’s given and would give numerous times. Yet he provides his character with three dimensions. Dundee is not slimy; there is a kind of class to him, and that gives him greater menace. For much of the film, the violence to which he is prone is implied; people are afraid of him, without visible reason. Yet Duryea gives other characters’ reactions credence.

Siodmak’s direction is credited with cementing a number of images and techniques of film noir, and certainly Criss Cross gives ample proof of the claim. His use of darkness is exemplary, from the first scene of the lovers caught in the panning glare of an automobile’s headlamps to the final emergence of the villain from a black doorway. Cramped dance-floors, narrow barrooms and claustrophobic meeting-places all highlight the intent of the plot and script.

The late 1940s was the core of the film noir era, short-lived, crowded, innovative and entertaining. Criss Cross is one of the best of an impressive lot.