Assignment - Paris (1952)

Directed by Robert Parrish; produced by Jerry Bresler and Samuel Marx

Following the imprisonment of an American in communist Hungary, rising New York reporter Jimmy Race (Dana Andrews) is brought to Europe on the basis of his reporting on Communist infiltration in the United States. His new boss, Nicholas Strang (George Sanders), head of their newspaper’s Paris office, sends Race to Budapest to replace an ailing colleague there. Race is determined to find the real story behind his countryman’s jailing, but in so doing, may find himself in the same predicament.

This interesting movie is rather different than most of its political-thriller contemporaries, and the contrast rises from the story. At a time when many films shied away from actually naming a country which is then shown in a bad light (or they created a fictional country, such as in State Secret, reviewed on this blog in December, 2021), Assignment - Paris not only names Hungary but goes into some detail in its leadership, though the latter comprises fictional characters. Also named is the real New York Herald-Tribune, Race’s newspaper. This realism is comparable to another Andrews movie, The Iron Curtain (reviewed in August of 2017) about the real-life defection of Igor Gouzenko.

The plot comes to revolve around a possible desertion of Hungary from the Soviet Bloc, similar to Yugoslavia’s under Tito, who is also named in the film. (Tito’s break with the USSR left his country Communist, but no longer a satellite of Moscow, and a bit more open in its relations with the West.) This intriguing story-line puts Race in danger from Hungary’s leaders, as they try to keep their talks with Tito a secret from their masters in Russia.

The characters bring the story to life, though, ironically, the lead is not really one the audience will get behind. Andrews makes Race just likeable enough, but he comes on as arrogant and superior. Fresh from a triumphant story in New York, he thinks he knows Communists, and that enough hustling and pushing will win the day.

His editor, Strang, tries to warn him that ruling Communists - and Europe in general - demand different treatment. Race is dealing with governments now, and not subversives, but he doesn’t take heed. As well, Race has no compunction about trying to steal Strang’s current girlfriend (Marta Toren). Strang, played smoothly and intelligently by Sanders, would probably have made a more engaging main character.

As well, Race is out-smarted by those he hopes to play for a story, the Hungarian prime minister Andreas Ordy (Herbert Berghof) and his minister of justice, Vajos (Ben Astar). Despite serving a dictatorial regime, and not above murder to accomplish their goals, they appear smarter and almost more sympathetic than Race. And, as Strang implies, the newspaper has to tread carefully not to betray the Hungarians’ machinations to Moscow.

Whether Race was meant by the writers to be the pushy newcomer or not, he becomes less the main character than the catalyst for events. A character who seems quite out of place is Sandy Tate (Audrey Totter), who though the newspaper’s fashion reporter, seems to be included in all the editorial meetings and political events of the story; her status as Strang’s erstwhile love-interest appears her principal qualification.

Despite an ambiguous intention for the main character, Assignment - Paris is both entertaining and interesting, made so by the plot and by the verisimilitude of the writing and the settings.

The Screaming Woman (1972)

Directed by Jack Smith; produced by William Frye

Laura Wynant (Olivia DeHavilland) is a wealthy, middle-aged woman newly released from a mental institution. Seemingly recovered from her previous trauma, she is shocked one day to hear, in a remote corner of her property, a woman’s weak voice pleading for help. Unable to locate the source, Laura is even more startled eventually to realize that it is coming from underground.

A neat little thriller made for television, The Screaming Woman (the title, considering everyone’s actions, refers to Laura, more than to the person she’s trying to rescue), provides some good tension and an effective climax. Director Smight may be an unfamiliar name, probably as he worked largely in television, but he also directed cinematically; in both media, his work was sometimes very good (eg. Harper (1966), No Way to Treat a Lady (1968), four The Twilight Zone episodes). Smight won an Emmy in 1959; his son Alec, a director/producer, has been nominated for three. Here, the elder Smight takes a rather neutral approach, letting the story and the acting work harder than the direction.

The plot is from a Ray Bradbury story. It is entertaining, not predictable, though it has flaws. The premise of a former mental patient’s claims being found incredible by others has been done many times, though in The Screaming Woman, Laura’s problems are implied to be less mental than emotional, connected to the loss of her husband. As well, the script gives away too much too early. We see almost immediately that Laura is dealing with a woman buried alive, and we see the perpetrator of the deed.

The writer who adapted Bradbury’s story, Merwin Gerard, treats characters much better than he does the plot. In particular, Laura’s adult son (Charles Knox Robinson) is a minor antagonist but wholly sympathetic. He is trying to persuade his mother to sell some of the family’s land - not for personal gain, but so they can keep what is left (their mansion and three acres), which currently can’t even be maintained. He also fights his wife’s desire for a public competency hearing for Laura.

As well, The Screaming Woman redeems the premature revelation of crime and criminal through the character of Carl Nesbitt (Ed Nelson). Nelson, a prolific character actor, veteran even in 1972, is called upon to provide a show stronger even than DeHavilland, who gives her usual professional performance. Nesbitt is no cool would-be murderer, but an ordinary man who went too far - and then even farther to cover it up. He is constantly on edge, ready at any moment to fall apart. This, along with Laura’s frantic, virtually hopeless, search for help, creates the successful suspense of the movie.

Joseph Cotten and Walter Pidgeon have small roles, as does Charles Drake but, though their characters provide support, the parts are neither large nor really necessary. (Nelson’s first rôle, as an uncredited extra, was in a Joseph Cotten film, The Steel Trap.)

A good example of a well-handled movie made for the small screen, The Screaming Woman serves up tension, unpredictability and a satisfying climax, and at a length of just 73 minutes is neither too long nor too short.

The Vicious Circle (1957)

Directed by Gerald Thomas; produced by Peter Rogers

Howard Latimer (John Mills) is a successful London surgeon with a thriving practice and a satisfying relationship with his fiancée (Noelle Middleton). After a consultation with a seemingly delusional patient (Rène Ray), Latimer discovers the corpse of another woman in his flat - killed in a manner connected to the patient. Now, the doctor finds himself involved in a plot the purpose of which he cannot fathom, pursued by the police, menaced by a blackmailer, and followed by a mysterious and all-knowing stranger.

The ‘framed man’ sub-genre of film noir is a good one, and can include excellent films. But much depends on the suspense the direction and the writing may generate. The Vicious Circle does an adequate job of providing entertainment, but there is no suspense created in the film.

The problem is mostly centred about the writing. Though the script is by prolific and popular British crime writer Francis Durbridge, it is not an exciting story. It is well thought-out, and there are some good characters, but the viewer never really believes that Latimer is in danger. One cause of this is that the police detective investigating the case, Inspector Dane (Roland Culver), implies early on that he doesn’t believe Latimer is guilty of anything; soon after that, he explicitly states it. While I actually like stories in which the police are one step ahead of where the audience - and the characters - think they are, Dane’s admission makes for a plot that is almost too easy-going.

As well, there is the inclusion of a mystery man named Robert Brady, played by Wilfred Hyde-White in his typically droll, dry and amusing style. Despite his menacing initial encounter with Latimer, the viewer will too soon guess his purpose - or at least his interest - and what he is all about. The omniscience of the police in the movie makes one wonder why everyone had to go through the plot at all.

The direction is decent, though, like the writing, it doesn’t lend any urgency to the story. The most tense scene is at the beginning, over the opening credits, as we precede a car through the streets of London to its destination. Unfortunately, the worrying tone and anxious music are preludes to nothing more than a rather casual visit to a doctor’s office.

The actors do a fine job. Mills always succeeds as the everyman, just as he can be something more extraordinary. Here, though, he is not as sympathetic as he might be. There is something curt to his manner that permits the audience, while wishing him out of his predicament, to view him from a distance, without involving themselves in his plight.

A lack of excitement and suspense, a surprisingly bland main character (considering the actor playing him) and a certain predictability to the story, make The Vicious Circle a lesser entry in what one might call ‘the fugitive’ category of crime movie.

Scene of the Crime (1949)

Directed by Roy Rowland; produced by Harry Rapf

When the former partner of Lieutenant Mike Conovan (Van Johnson) is murdered, the Los Angeles homicide detective finds the death may be connected to a turf-war among the city’s bookies. This puts him under pressure from both his bosses and the public. Meanwhile, his wife (Arlene Dahl) is tired of the telephone summoning her husband into danger every evening. Between his job and his home, Conovan is a man under pressure.

Initially, I thought Scene of the Crime somewhat different than many police procedural movies from its era. For one thing, from the title and the scenes unfolding behind the opening credits, I thought its subjects would comprise a police force’s scene-of-crime unit: the science behind the investigations. That is not the case. Nonetheless, and though it began with the cliched premise of the murdered partner, Scene of the Crime had promise.

For one thing, Conovan’s new, young partner (Tom Drake) was a confident, though not arrogant detective who could hold his own with veteran policemen and reporters in terms of repartée. As well, the angle of a hostile take-over of illegal betting operations was interesting; in particular, the business-like methods of the head of the local bookies (Tom Powers) showed a parallel to police operations.

Unfortunately, the story became too convoluted for its own good, and brought in characters that weren’t really significant until they were dropped into the climax as an easy solution to the detectives’ problems. The shoot-out at the end is exciting, but comes as a result of an action of Conovan’s that makes the viewer ask why he didn’t do that at the beginning. Also, there are predictable aspects, such as aged cop Piper (John McIntire) being too old for his job.

The story, then, is the culprit in the film’s relegation to mediocrity, which is too bad, as other elements are better. The writing, though creating nothing special in the dialogue, creates some good characters, such as Gloria DeHaven’s Lili, a singer in a night-club who is used by Conovan because of her connection to a possible murderer. As well, the relationship between Conovan and his wife is a rare one; she is very trusting, even when her husband must romance Lili as part of his investigation. Other movies would have injected an easy sub-plot into that.

The acting too is capable. It is interesting to see McIntire play a cop nearing retirement, even though he was only 42 at the time. His craggy face probably made it easy for the make-up artist to age him - and, indeed, he is convincing. To be honest, to me, McIntire, a very prolific character actor in both movies and television, always seemed old.

In the end, however, despite all - including an unmemorable score by future Oscar-winner André Previn - Scene of the Crime is no more than average.