Razzia sur la chnouf (1955)

Directed by Henri Decoin; produced by Paul Wagner

Henri Ferré (Jean Gabin), alias Henri le Nantais, has been summoned by Paul Liski (Dalio), the head of France’s illegal narcotics-selling operations. Those operations are in a mess: drugs are disappearing, middle-men are raking off profits, unreliable crooks are talking too much… Ferré is given plenary powers to do what needs to be done to clean things up. Complicating his job, though, are two reckless hitmen - Roger le Catalan (Lino Ventura) and Bibi (Albert Rémy) – and a watchful police detective (Pierre-Louis), who seems to know all of Ferré’s moves.

Gabin had just re-established himself in French cinema, after a fifteen year combined hiatus (in Hollywood and fighting in the Second World War) and dry spell (which featured several failed movies). This procedural (a ‘criminal procedural’, if you will, rather than a ‘police procedural’) continued his upward return. It would be wrong to claim that Gabin is the whole movie, since so many things work here, but he is certainly its centre.

Gabin created the French version of ‘middle-aged cool’, a continental equivalent of Humphrey Bogart. A little pudgier than he was in 1937’s highly successful Pépé le Moko (reviewed on this blog in March, 2023), Gabin is not yet a weary, half-resigned anti-hero; his Henri Ferré is vibrant, in charge; it is not unrealistic to see him casually pick up and win the heart of the much younger Lisette (Magali Noël). Gabin makes the character appear detached and seemingly unconcerned with his job, yet not someone anybody would wish to cross.

Other characters are well defined, though their time on the screen is much less. Lino Ventura shows his own screen presence in this, his second film (the first was the year before, also with Gabin). He plays a cop-hating assassin, who is far too ready to kill, for Ferré’s liking. Other characters, such as Léa (Lila Kedrova), a drug-dealer too dependent on her own merchandise; Birot (Armontel), a chemist who synthesizes the ‘white junk’, and Lisette, all come across as three-dimensional.

The depth of the characters, despite the brevity of some of their screen-time, is a tribute not just to the acting, but to the writing. The amorality of Ferré and others in his milieu might be off-putting to some viewers, though, since many of the people of this under-world are actually likeable, it comes across at least as more sympathetic than, for example, that of The Godfather. Interest is maintained not just with the drama, but with the story in which it unfolds: the various stages and departments of a drug organisation are convincingly depicted. There is unexpected black humour, too, for instance in the number of handguns swept out from under a restaurant’s tables after a police raid.

The direction is restrained. Violence is sudden and quick. Viewers may not see it coming, but when they do, the expectation builds suspense. For the most part, the direction gives almost a ‘day-in-the-life-of’ approach to Ferré’s activities, a criminal efficiency expert at work.

Though compared to Bogart, Gabin would probably come closer to James Cagney in American cinema; both were, by this time, hefty, past their physical prime, but compelling to watch, regardless of which side of the law their characters trod. And if viewers like a good Cagney film, they will like Razzia sur la chnouf.

(The full title means ‘Raid on the Dope’. I suspect that ‘chnouf’ is an onomatopoeia for the way powdered drugs sound when inhaled.)

The Burglar (1957)

Directed by Paul Wendkos; produced by  Louis W Kellman

Nat Harbin (Dan Duryea) is a life-long burglar. His latest crime has been the theft of a jeweled necklace from a wealthy evangelical preacher (Phoebe Mackay). Once stolen, however, the necklace becomes the object of strife among his associates, and a mysterious rival (Stewart Bradley). It turns out that stealing the prize was a lot easier than keeping it.

I wanted to like The Burglar very much, principally because I am a fan of Duryea, and he did not have many chances to be the lead, especially the sympathetic lead, in films. Unfortunately, there isn’t much favourable to say about this attempt.

Partly to blame is the script, and how it shows that despite the alleged professionalism of the criminals, they are rather inept. I was surprised when it became clear, immediately following the heist, that their plan did not include anything subsequent to the actual theft. Harbin had been in the robbery business for about twenty years, yet there was no thought as to having a ‘fence’ chosen and ready to accept the hot merchandise.

There was likewise no scheme of physical escape from Philadelphia, the scene of the crime. There was not even any agreement on what to do in general, Harbin favouring staying stationary and out of sight, the others wanting to leave right away. Harbin’s reasoning is to wait until the furor over the theft dies down, but his immobility merely allows the police to put their offensive into operation; he should have known the usual pattern of activity from his experiences. Despite being extensively questioned at the scene by patrolmen, who identified his car thoroughly, the only precaution against being discovered is to change licence plates; no consideration is given to finding or, better yet, already having, another vehicle ready.

As well, female accomplice Gladden (Jayne Mansfield), posing as a poor donor to the victim’s cause, supposedly ‘cased’ the targeted house, and found out where the necklace was kept, because the victim proudly showed her about. But would that really have included showing where jewels were kept in a safe in a private bedroom?

Another problem, related to the story, is Nat’s age. It is given in a police report as 35 years; a character suggests that Nat is that age. Yet Duryea was fifty at the time the film was made, and looks it. He has a used visage, full of personality, convenient for many roles – but not that of a 35 year old. I suspect that Nat had to be 35 (the age he probably was in the sourced novel) so that he would be no more than ten years or so older than Gladden, the orphan he must protect.

Gladden is the daughter of Nat’s old mentor, a very kind burglar who taught him his trade. But after his entire adult life is spent in crime, it seems that little professionalism has been learned, as described in the paragraphs above.

The acting is adequate, though the direction calls for a great deal of angst and anger. There is plenty of shouting, and close-ups of agonised faces. Attempts to generate pathos are misplaced, and come across as simply wastes of time, since we never really care about the  characters, except perhaps for Nat. Mansfield is probably the weakest in the cast, though she is not used here simply for her looks, and tries hard enough. The dialogue she is given doesn’t help.

The finale is not suspenseful, and there really is no question of what will happen at the end. It comes as a fitting climax to the ineptitude shown by the criminals (which was surely not the intent of the writers), especially compared with the dead-on response of the police hunting them.

The Burglar therefore is a wasted opportunity for Duryea, and a wasted time for the viewer.

Wildlike (2014)

Directed and produced by Frank Hall Green; produced by Frank Hall Green, Julie Christeas, Joseph Stephans, Schuyler Weiss

Fourteen year old Mackenzie (Ella Purnell), her father dead and her mother in drug rehabilitation, is sent from her home-town Seattle to live with her uncle (Brian Geraghty) in Juneau. Terrified by his unwanted physical attentions, the girl runs away, latching on to widower René Bartlett (Bruce Greenwood), who intends to hike across Denali National Park, in memoriam to his late wife, with whom he had travelled the route many times. Despite his great reluctance, circumstances force ‘Bart’ to take Mackenzie with him, and soon the childless man and the fatherless child discover truths about each other, themselves and the world.

Wildlike is a movie for those who still appreciate drama without violence or super-heroes. It is a quiet movie that takes full advantage of the setting, the relative isolation of Juneau, and the empty wilderness that surrounds it. There are crises but not much of a climax, though how the film ends is satisfying for those who don’t need finales to be explained to them.

The writing is very good. The dialogue is unexceptional and natural yet manages to convey certain aspects well. Particularly telling is how the uncle talks to (and text-messages with) Mackenzie after she flees his molestation. He speaks of how ‘we screwed up’ and how the girl must be ‘confused’ because of events; refusing to accept what he did. The viewer can understand the fear that prompted Mackenzie’s flight.

Both Mackenzie and Bart are very well defined. The adolescent is not the obnoxious teen that many similarly aged characters are in movies. She is resentful of her situation, but is smart enough to know that she must simply deal with what is happening. Bart, for his part, is even more of a rarity in films today: an ordinary, decent middle-aged man, without hang-ups but grieving in his own private way.

Without the quality of the talent in front of the camera, Wildlike would have died a painful death. Greenwood gives a performance that teeters on the edge of portraying a curmudgeon, which would have been fatal; that would have veered the story toward comedy. Instead, he shows Bart as a good man who finds a girl interfering with what he must consider an almost sacred action, committed in the memory of his wife. He lets down his guard about his loss once, which itself leads to a telling moment. Initially, Mackenzie follows him because she learns he is from Seattle, and thinks he is an easy way back home, but it might be that Bart’s very indifference to her is welcome after her uncle’s behaviour.

Though eighteen at the time of filming, Purnell is very convincing as barely-teenaged Mackenzie, half-child, but trying at times to be a woman, and struggling with the consequences of both qualities. Though English, no viewer would guess it from her performance. (Greenwood is Canadian, perhaps an easier source from which to imitate an American.)

The direction is good without being superb. Green permits the actors to express feelings, rather than speaking them. There is admirable restraint used, as when Mackenzie’s uncle comes into her bedroom; like many cinematic moments, what is not seen can be very frightening. As for the setting, it might be argued that it would be hard to do poorly with such scenery as Alaska, but others have done so. Green uses a number of shots well, such as showing the mild urbanization of Juneau, becoming the touristy outskirts with their undoubtedly pricey retailers, and then the deserted countryside beyond.

A fine movie about relationships, Wildlike shows the dangers of some human interactions, along with the rewards of others, and demonstrates that when we allow them, those rewards can be great.

Sleeping Car to Trieste (1948)

Directed and produced by John Paddy Carstairs; produced by George H Brown

After stealing a diary from an embassy in Paris, spies Valya (Jean Kent) and Zurta (Albert Lieven) are double-crossed by their associate, Poole. They follow him on board the Simplon Orient Express, bound for the Adriatic port of Trieste; other passengers include a couple (Derrick De Marney, Rona Anderson) sneaking away illicitly, a boring civil servant (David Tomlinson), and a pompous author (Finlay Currie). All will somehow be mixed up in the subsequent deadly intrigue.

A curious movie, Sleeping Car to Trieste joins the sub-genre of train-adventure films, and probably hoped to tread the path made by The Lady Vanishes and Night Train to Munich. It doesn’t reach their standard, unfortunately, though it does make for an entertaining story.

While Sleeping Car to Trieste lacks a central character, or leading couple, this is not its principal fault. After all, ensemble casts can create winning films, though even in such pictures there is usually one character who grounds the others, or at least the story. In this case, however, there are few that are likeable. An exception is the French police inspector, Jolif (Paul Depuis), who, while amiable and clearly intelligent, isn’t really instrumental in wrapping up the many story-lines (or the crime that occurs on the train). Otherwise, though, the personalities range from murderous and duplicitous to unfaithful and tedious.

This lack of sympathetic characters isn’t a fatal flaw, since the characters who are presented – however unpleasant – are well defined and come across as multi-dimensional. Even Zurta and Valya generate some interest in their mutual attraction, depending even as it does on their mission’s success. The acting from all the players is very good, and rises above what might be considered a b-movie.

That the viewer really is kept baffled as to the story’s outcome is a result of the writing, which almost matches the acting in quality. Whether the audience will be sustained to the finale is another matter, since the characters may be too off-putting for that. There are problems with the script: there is no explanation as to the explosiveness of the diary in question. If it is published, ‘it will mean revolution’. Alfred Hitchcock called such an item a ‘McGuffin’; it might be a list of enemy agents, or a scientific formula, or, as in this case, a diary. It is simply something that various parties have or want.

Another difficulty is the boring comic relief attempted by the inclusion of an Englishman (David Hutcheson) not placing much effort on learning how to cook railway fare; his father had arranged his tuition on the train. The actor is too old for the rôle, the part is unfunny, and one cannot imagine a chef on the Orient Express tolerating such a buffoon. Less tiresome is the second comic situation in which an American soldier (Bonar Colleano) has to put up with an ornithologist (Michael Ward). Though better than the cooking student, both these sets of characters should have been given some tie to the plot-line. Neither is amusing enough to justify its inclusion apart from the rest of the story.

Despite its troubles, Sleeping Car to Trieste is a minor success, thanks mainly to the good acting and the adequate writing. The viewer probably won’t fall asleep in this sleeping car, but will be nonetheless glad to reach the destination.

I Know Where I'm Going! (1945)

Directed and produced by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger

Joan Webster (Wendy Hiller) is a young, independent, strong-willed woman who has always known where she was going. At twenty-five, where she is going is to the Hebrides of Scotland, to marry a wealthy, middle-aged industrialist, whom she seems to respect but clearly doesn’t love. Such advancement, however, is part of her carefully constructed life-plan. But what even the most dedicated planners don’t count on are chance and love.

The character’s plan may come a cropper, but this expertly crafted movie does not. When it was produced, studio executives over at Paramount called the screenplay ‘perfect’, and Martin Scorsese called the film a ‘masterpiece’. I would not go so far as Mr Scorsese’s opinion, but I Know Where I’m Going! is an excellent movie.

The script is indeed first-rate. The lines are all perfectly natural and each moves the story along. Powell and Pressburger (‘The Archers’) created another film - A Canterbury Tale (reviewed on this blog in November, 2017) - the year before this one which in many ways had a similar feel for the locality in which it was set but I Know Where I’m Going! is less leisurely, more streamlined. This is due not to unrefined writing in the earlier film but to the romantic plot format of the later, which makes for a more direct goal. The script reflects this, as most of the dialogue - and certainly that of the principals, Joan and Torquil MacNeil (Roger Livesey) - reveal characters and further the story.

That’s not to claim that there are no diversions. As with all of the Archers’ work, there is plenty of interest generated by supporting characters and their situations. A good example is Colonel Barnstaple (C W R Knight), who is training an eagle. The character provides some light moments but also illustrates local culture (Knight was a professional eagle-trainer, as well as an actor.) For the most part, however, the setting and its people are revealed by being incorporated seamlessly into the writing.

The writing is also responsible for the very realistic lead characters. Joan is determined that things go as she has planned, and when they don’t, she becomes increasingly panicky, even putting people’s lives at risk to achieve her goals. Torquil is a largely diffident fellow, the sort who describes four years of war-service at sea as ‘travelling the world a bit’. He calmly strips a sinking boat’s engine in the middle of a gale yet afterward returns home serenely smoking a pipe. These are interesting and genuine people.

The acting matches all other qualities. Wendy Hiller superbly captures Joan’s self-confidence throughout much of the movie, but also her vulnerability and fear when her schemes unravel. Livesey, who, two years before, worked with the Archers in The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (reviewed on this blog in January of 2018), was initially viewed as too old for his part; he was 39. He makes Torquil an admirable, easy-going fellow, hinting at much more beneath the surface.

Other performers are all very natural. John Laurie, also from The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, plays an atypically enthusiastic man, happy at the diamond wedding anniversary of his parents. (Laurie also choreographed the dancing at the traditional Scottish festival.) Pamela Brown (another recurring player in the Archers’ movies) is Torquil’s sister, superficially carefree but actually very perceptive; Finlay Currie has a small part, and that’s a very young Petula Clark as the serious-minded child, Cheril.

The direction uses the people and setting to create a realistic and affectionate portrait of the district, as the same directors/producers did for Kent in A Canterbury Tale. I suspect much of the population of western Scotland would have viewed the film with an eye ready to be critical, so accuracy was probably great. The island of Kiloran in the film is based on the real island of Colonsay (in fact, Kiloran is the name of a bay on Colonsay), the traditional home of the McNeills; Torquil is of that clan, though the spelling of his surname is different. Also used for very good effect in the climax is the whirlpool of Corryvreckan. That it is hard to distinguish which is footage of the real maelstrom and which is a lesser, studio version, even when boats and models of boats are used, respectively, is a tribute to the special effects.

The small collection of movies made by the Archers is a treasure trove of excellence, and I Know Where I’m Going! is a typically top-grade example.