Follow Me Quietly (1949)

Directed by Richard O Fleischer; produced by Heman Schlom

Lieutenant Grant (William Lundigan) is leading the city’s hunt for ‘the Judge’, a crazed killer who strikes only when it rains. His task is complicated by pressure from his superiors and persistent reporter Ann Gorman (Dorothy Patrick), hoping to make her mark in journalism with the case.

A low-budget film that could have been much more than it is, Follow Me Quietly is nonetheless an entertaining and interesting movie. Running at a mere sixty minutes, it packs a good story into its hour. The actors would be mostly unknown to the average viewer, but are capable for all that.

All the actors contribute decently. Lundigan makes a good lead, and he and Patrick develop convincing chemistry. There is an effective scene in a car which highlights their interaction, when the audience isn’t sure if they’ll hit each other or kiss. The tension is broken by a call coming over the police radio.

The scene illustrates the capable acting but also the direction, which is the best thing about Follow Me Quietly. This is probably to be expected with Fleischer, who went on to direct such fine movies as The Narrow Margin, 20,000 Leagues under the Sea, The Boston Strangler, Tora! Tora! Tora!, 10 Rillington Place, and more. Here, Fliescher creates the atmosphere that cloaks the movie. The low budget, the short running time, the sinister rain and, with purposeful irony, the dry, almost dusty environment of the climax, all contribute.

The story itself is actually routine, but without too many disadvantages. It is the script that is the principal villain of the production. Despite an inherent problem with any unnecessary padding, Follow Me Quietly could have used some, perhaps to flesh out the characters and provide more insight into the killer. He murders those whom he believes have outraged morality, but we never learn why he has chosen his particular victims, or how the diverse victims have transgressed the Judge’s principles. Furthermore, the police don’t seem interested in that aspect of the case.

There is a glaring problem with the script that is handled well visually (Fleischer again) while making no sense in terms of the story. It involves a faceless mannequin devised by the police to represent the killer. At one point, its place is taken by the real murderer, though the latter could not have known about the mannequin or where it was. Nor could he have easily penetrated to the room in police headquarters where it was stored; in fact, there is no reason for him to have done so. So far as can be determined, the scene was included just for a neat visual.

Even the title was ill-considered, since it does not relate to the story, and would have been better changed to Follow Me in the Rain, or something of relevance. This is a minor but typical problem with the writing.

Even so, playing more like a typically quick, cheap entry in a 1950s tv anthology series, rather than a movie, Follow Me Quietly serves its purpose, and provides an enjoyable hour of viewing - especially if it’s raining outside.

Cry Danger (1951)

Directed by Robert Parrish; produced by W R Frank and Sam Wiesenthal

Rocky Mulloy (Dick Powell) was sentenced to prison for a robbery he didn’t commit. Pardoned on the  belated alibi given by Delong (Richard Erdmann), a disabled U.S. marine just returned from overseas, Mulloy determines to find out who really committed the crime, in the hopes of freeing a friend jailed as an accomplice. Not guilty but not quite innocent, Mulloy is also interested in finding the stolen money, as compensation for the five years he spent behind bars. Those who really pulled off the heist, however, aren’t in the mood to share.

No one accomplished a change of direction in his cinematic career like Dick Powell. Young and boyish, he was a success as a song-and-dance man (eg. 1933’s 42nd Street). But in 1944, he starred as hard-boiled Philip Marlowe in the film noir Murder, My Sweet, and, though he was in a number of subsequent contrasting roles, became principally a tough guy thereafter. (The only actor I can think of who did something similar was Leslie Nielsen, who moved from a moderately successful drama career to the king of absurdist comedy.)

Despite the baby-face, Powell’s new persona fit him well, and it continued to do so in Cry Danger. His performance is strong and he creates a sympathetic character. Even so, the most notable performance is given by Erdmann. His character’s dry humour, delivered in a slow drawl, is the centre of each of his scenes, and Delong’s alcoholism lends a pathos to it. Also good is William Conrad, whose distinctive voice and imposing presence makes an effective villain. Rhonda Fleming is more than just a beautiful leading lady, and Regis Toomey plays a smart detective, letting events happen to his advantage.

The story is fairly straightforward, though there are some twists, some unexpected turns. Even so, the astute viewer should be able to see them coming. Nonetheless, the tale will keep the audience entertained. There is rather more violence in Cry Danger than in some movies of the era, though the climax is one more of tension than action.

The script is a good one, with some amusing lines in the usual film noir dry manner. However, we don’t learn too much about Mulloy; rather, we are told some of his history, which is not the same thing. Of the other characters we learn next to nothing that isn’t necessary to the plot.

Some sources list Powell himself as the film’s uncredited director. Whatever the case, the direction, like the story, is pretty ordinary, though it handles the exciting bits well enough. The Bunker Hill district of Los Angeles, a favourite of film noir, is featured in many scenes, giving the Californian city a look different than what comes to mind today.

While Cry Danger has a title more appropriate to an action-adventure movie, perhaps one about men hauling explosives over mountain roads, it is a good addition to the film noir library, and will hold the viewer’s attention during a night at the movies.

The Good Die Young (1954)

Directed by Lewis Gilbert; produced by Jack Clayton (associate producer)

Four men in London are each facing a crisis in his life: Joe (Richard Basehart) needs to take his pregnant wife away from her manipulative mother; Eddie (John Ireland) is trying to hold on to his unfaithful spouse; Mike (Stanley Baker) is at the end of a boxing career and needs money to start a new life. They fall in with the conniving and dangerous Rave (Laurence Harvey), who proposes a simple solution to their problems - the theft of £90,000 from a post office.

This is a heist movie with a difference, and whether that difference makes or breaks the movie will probably depend on the type of viewer, and what he prefers in his films. There is, in fact, little of the heist in The Good Die Young. What there is, is exciting and tense. Nonetheless, the story focuses on the four men, and why they become involved in crime, when three, at least, have never committed an unlawful act in their lives.

The story is by far the weakest part of the movie. One of its faults lies in providing too little motive for some to become involved in the robbery. Eddie, in particular, is plagued by his love for a wife who has no respect for him, and dislikes him. Why he would think that money would solve his problem, when a simple divorce would suffice, we are not told. He doesn’t seem to have any fondness for wealth or luxury, and has a thriving career in the U.S. Air Force. Joe, too, though he needs some fast cash, has no desire for a share of £90,000; just enough for him and his wife (Joan Collins) to fly to New York from London would do.

More specific than general motive is the question of why three law-abiding men would follow into crime someone whom they casually met at a pub. And the robbery itself appears poorly considered; if everything goes smoothly, then there would be no problem. But when do movie heists go smoothly? There is also the inconsistency of Mike’s wife, who won’t help her worthless brother at one point, but will at another, more critical juncture.

The acting, on the other hand, is very good. Ireland gets to play a sympathetic role, different from most of his later parts. Harvey is suitably despicable as an amoral, villainous man who is probably psychopathic. He is so bad, in fact, that it’s hard to imagine anyone trusting him even in the slightest. Robert Morley has a good small part as Rave’s father, a decent man who knows exactly what his son is, and probably what his son always was. The last shot of the father watching Rave leave their club is telling: a stone face expressing so much. Gloria Grahame is less of a benefit to the movie, as her English accent still sounds American.

The direction is very good. Gilbert was behind the camera for a diverse number of successes, such as Sink the Bismarck!, Alfie and Educating Rita. Here, his work complements the acting, as he makes the most of the emotional scenes and creates a suspenseful climax.

The Good Die Young is a crime film so much more interested in the criminals than their deed that it actually fades to another scene when the gang discuss their plan. But if one likes a character study of desperate men, then this film will entertain and, in the last twenty minutes, even thrill.

Night of the Demon (1957)

Directed by Jacques Tourneur; produced by Frank Bevis and Hal E Chester

American professor John Holden (Dana Andrews) arrives in London to attend a conference on the paranormal and its relation to psychology. He is, to put it mildly, a disbeliever in ghosts, devils, telepathy and the like. But when confronted with the death of a colleague (Maurice Denham) and the strange behaviour of Julian Karswell (Niall MacGinnis), the leader of a cult, he may be forced to change his mind.

Night of the Demon is an atmospheric, well-made film that has a number of advantages, and a couple of disadvantages. On the plus side is the direction. Tourneur was also behind the camera in the movie Cat People, considered a superior b-movie, and went on to direct Out of the Past, one of the most famous films noir. In his movies, lighting plays a great part in their success.

In Night of the Demon also, Tourneur plays with light and shadows, but with settings in general to create a sense of claustrophobia. This is especially effective in the opening scene, featuring a car driving in a dark night, through a sunken road, the trees on either side of which close up almost to make a tunnel. A similarly threatening scene takes place in a hotel corridor.

A decided benefit to Night of the Demon is the casting of MacGinnis as the villain. Karswell is rather charming, and in the disposal of his enemies, seemingly by magic, he appears almost reluctant, almost as though their destruction were something he wished to avoid on moral grounds. MacGinnis’s performance creates a smooth, believable villain.

The script is good, though the dialogue is rather bland. The climactic confrontation on a train is both entertaining and exciting. A scene depicting a séance is amusing and eerie, as those supporting the medium sing a Victorian song (“Cherry Ripe”) in order to facilitate the arrival of spirits; then we hear different voices issue from the medium, rather unnerving in their incongruity.

The problems are both minor and major. There is an attack by a leopard, which is clearly no more than the actor struggling with a stuffed animal. Tourneur should have borrowed a page from his techniques in Cat People, and worked with shadows and implication.

Then there is the demon itself. Its arrival is well-handled, a cloud of smoke seemingly opening a window to Hell. But then the demon is shown quite clearly to audiences; my statement here is hardly a spoiler, since the demon is seen in the movie’s opening sequence. Apparently, there was some discord in the production of the film over whether this should be added to the film. The demon is scary-looking but its presence is not. When observed materialising, half there and half not, it makes for a disturbing moment; when it interacts with the humans, it is little more than a big monster.

Still, Night of the Demon has the atmosphere and direction – and a fine performance – to recommend it: an entertaining if not entirely satisfying thriller.