Fourteen Hours (1951)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Fourteen Hours (1951) – H. Hathaway

Still working through my film noir watchlist and feeling surprised that this “small film” about a man threatening to jump from the 16^th floor of a Manhattan hotel is actually more of a big budget thriller than the quickie B-movie I had assumed it to be.  Veteran director Henry Hathaway keeps things moving even as most of the action takes place out on the narrow ledge where charismatic lug Paul Douglas tries to talk skittish Richard Basehart back into his room.  Screenwriters John Paxton and Joel Sayre succeed by sticking to reality – the cops try every rational solution to lure Basehart in (or grab him), including bringing in his estranged parents (Agnes Moorehead and Robert Keith) and recently dumped girlfriend (Barbara Bel Geddes) to encourage him to choose life (and to give audience’s more of his backstory and motivation).  A few subplots featuring members of the huge crowd down below (including Grace Kelly in her first film) show how people reflect on the value of their own lives in the face of such a dark spectacle. But as slick as this is, you can’t escape the bitter noir under-taste.

 

The Enforcer (1951)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Enforcer (1951) – B. Windust & R. Walsh

This later Bogie vehicle finds him uncovering a gang of hit-men, based on the notorious organised crime mob, Murder, Inc., who were exposed in 1941 by former contract killer Abe Reles. It feels surprising that Bogie’s D. A. and all of the cops supporting him have never heard the words “contract” or “hit” in conjunction with murder or the mob, but that’s the way it was. The film takes the now familiar format of a series of overlapping flashbacks, as Bogie recalls the details of the case after his key witness (based on Reles) has died on the eve of the trial of the main boss (played deliciously by Everett Sloane in what is basically a cameo). I suppose I might not be the only one who thought of Leslie Nielsen’s Police Squad spoof of this format when the plentiful scenes of Bogie interviewing various bit players about what they know start to mount up.  Yet the film is nothing less than enjoyable as it moves briskly through its paces (veteran Raoul Walsh stepped in as director when Bretaigne Windust fell ill) with enough noir flavour (courtesy of later Hitchcock cinematographer Robert Burks) to give it grit.  One to watch when you’ve exhausted the well-known Bogart “hits”.

 

The Whistle at Eaton Falls (1951)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Whistle at Eaton Falls (1951) – R. Siodmak

You really don’t see too many films that try to tackle the complexity of labor-management relations but this recently revived Robert Siodmak gem does so incisively. Lloyd Bridges plays Brad Adams, the head of Union Local 145 at Doubleday Plastics in (fictional) Eaton Falls, New Hampshire (shot in Portsmouth and neighbouring towns!).  When the kindly head of the company approaches him about serious budget problems and the cost-cutting necessary, he is willing to brainstorm ideas but resistant to job cuts required if the factory is going to upgrade its machinery.  Then, suddenly, the company president is killed in an accident and his widow (Dorothy Gish) names Adams as his replacement. This creates a conflict with his old mates when he inherits the same desperate budget situation. To make things worse, a rebel union member is really stirring everyone up AND the company’s old production manager (now at a competitor) is undermining Adams’ authority and encouraging rebellion.  Only a few familiar faces (Ernest Borgnine!) appear in the cast of mostly unknowns, lending authenticity in addition to the location shooting. Of course, the film’s Hollywood ending belies the real historical narrative about unions and their relationships with corporations in the US and globally, but it feels genuinely earned and also fittingly precarious.   

 

The Man in the White Suit (1951)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Man in the White Suit (1951) – A. Mackendrick

Farcical comedy from Ealing Studios that is also a stinging satire with a bitter aftertaste (if you let it sink in). Alec Guinness plays Sidney Stratton a young scientist who manages to invent (after purloining supplies and the corner of a bench from the research divisions of various textile mills) a fabric that never wears out and never gets dirty (something to do with super-long polymer chains). Initially, he is supported by mill owner Cecil Parker (who sees profits) and his daughter Joan Greenwood (who sees the altruistic possibilities) but as soon as the captains of the textile industry (featuring Ernest Thesiger in a wickedly cynical part) find out, they want to suppress it. After all, a fabric that never wears out would certainly put the mills out of business; for once, the workers’ union joins management in a joint attack against Stratton. Director Alexander Mackendrick keeps things humming along (like the funny chemistry experiment in the film’s first half) but essentially this is a one-joke film and the material does wear a little thin (pun intended) even at a running time of only 85 minutes. Still, it’s delightful (if bitter) and Guinness and the assorted character actors acquit themselves admirably.

The People Against O’Hara (1951)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The People Against O’Hara (1951) – J. Sturges

Spencer Tracy plays Jim Curtayne, a former district attorney in private practice now doing strictly civil cases because, as we soon learn, the burden of defending criminal cases eventually led to alcoholism. Of course, the movie opens with Curtayne deciding to defend the son of old friends from the neighbourhood against a murder rap.  We know, but Curtayne doesn’t, that the boy has an alibi but he won’t reveal it because doing so would put a married woman into jeopardy. So, this is a case that Curtayne can’t win and the pressure leads him back to the bottle (no surprise) and ultimately to actions that could lead him to be disbarred (which feels a little phony, it must be said).  So, it’s a noir set-up – and Tracy does seem a flawed character (although still highly genial). John Alton’s cinematography showcases his typically striking use of light in darkness. But somehow the film falters. It is a watchable courtroom drama but the supporting actors may not be strong enough (except reliable Jay C. Flippen!), Tracy may not have been willing to really tarnish his image, and the plot turns the downbeat ending into something more like an exoneration.  

 

Pool of London (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Pool of London (1951) – B. Dearden

Shot on location in London, with a gritty feel but lots of famous landmarks too, Basil Dearden’s thriller is in keeping with the emphasis on social issues found elsewhere in his oeuvre (Sapphire, 1959; Victim, 1961).  Here, Johnny (Earl Cameron), a black sailor, is unwittingly caught up in a heist gone bad when his friend, Dan (Bonar Colleano), another sailor, asks him to smuggle a package on board their ship, headed for Rotterdam.  Before that can happen, they have a weekend’s full of shore leave, where Johnny meets and clearly falls in love with the girl who takes tickets at the music hall, Pat (Susan Shaw)  This is apparently one of the first inter-racial relationships depicted on the British screen – and, although most of the other characters are fine with it, 1951’s ugly reality does rear its head and we see Johnny treated to some racist invective.  He’s upset but passive about it, suggesting that the two of them can’t fix the world’s problems.  Racism isn’t really the focus of the film, however, which instead focuses on Dan’s loyalty to Johnny and his moral character, more generally. I think a case could be made for Dearden as an auteur, given his way of infusing realist melodrama into genre, although admittedly I’ve only seen six of his 40+ films (and his part of the Dead of Night portmanteau).  Worth a look.

Carmen Comes Home (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆

Carmen Comes Home (1951) – K. Kinoshita

It is rather jarring to see Hideko Takamine in her role as a comic floozy after knowing her beloved turns as a caring schoolteacher in Twenty-Four Eyes (1954) and as an often suffering romantic heroine in Mikio Naruse’s many great films of the Fifties and Sixties, especially When a Woman Ascends the Stairs (1960).  Yet, she pulls it off (including some songs), even if the film itself is something of a trifle (albeit the first colour film in Japan).  The plot sees a rural village (in the shadow of Mt. Asama, Gunma Prefecture) excited to discover that one of its departed residents, a dancer with stage name Lily Carmen, is soon to return from Tokyo in triumph.  Her father is not so sure she is really an artist (as advertised) and indeed it turns out that she is a stripper to the shock of many.  She returns with one of her colleagues and turns the small village upside down with her brazen antics.  It is a bit difficult to determine whether director Keisuke Kinoshita is laughing at these country bumpkins (including Chishû Ryû as an uptight school principal, also very different than in his many pictures for Ozu) or if he is passing judgment on the women’s behaviour.  It is probably the former (Carmen’s behaviour is excused because she had a childhood head injury!?!) and the film ends with a striptease show (with only suggested nudity – this is 1951) that feels a bit prurient. Nevertheless, the money raised is put to a good purpose (contributing to the local school, paying down a blind man’s debt and convincing his greedy landlord to return a harmonium to him), most leering men are ridiculed, and the girls merrily depart.  The film even yielded a sequel, but it isn’t a classic by any means.

  

Hollywood Story (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆

Hollywood Story (1951) – W. Castle

William Castle (producer and showman extraordinaire; known for House on Haunted Hill and The Tingler and a lot of B-quickies) made this not-bad noir mystery with reflexive overtones.  Richard Conte plays a New York producer who heads west to Hollywood and decides to make a movie about the unsolved murder of an old silent movie director (only 20 years earlier – so, around 1998 to 1999 for us!).  As soon as the word gets out, old-timers emerge from the woodworks and suspicious events start to happen.  Conte is solid and Castle keeps things moving briskly (the film is only 77 minutes long) so it feels a bit like one of those TV murder mystery shows – palatable but insubstantial.  In a nod (rip-off) to Sunset Blvd (1950), a recent success, Conte encounters a number of actual silent film stars (mostly unknown today but there is Joel McCrea!).  Julie Adams (love interest) and Richard Egan (cop) are good in supporting roles.  The three suspects at least have distinct personalities although the mystery itself isn’t really fleshed out.  Apparently, the studio that Conte takes over is really Chaplin’s old digs.  Have a look at Kenneth Anger’s Hollywood Babylon if you want to know about the real unsolved murders of the silent days!

The House on Telegraph Hill (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆

The House on Telegraph Hill (1951) – R. Wise

Valentina Cortese plays a Polish concentration camp survivor who adopts the identity of a friend who died in the camp in order to have a better life in San Francisco (the friend had told of a rich aunt who was caring for her young son sent overseas to avoid the Holocaust).  However, she soon learns that the aunt is dead and her attempts to connect with the orphaned son are spurned by the lawyers for the new guardian; however, when she travels to New York, she meets the guardian, Alan Spender (Richard Baseheart), who soon ends up proposing to her.  As a couple, they return to San Francisco where an unfriendly governess awaits them along with the son who soon warms to his returned “mother” (who he doesn’t remember).  Pretty soon, however, Victoria/Karin (Cortese) starts to suspect that someone is trying to murder her AND the son.  It could be the governess ... or the husband/guardian (who stands to inherit the fortune which was left to the son).  Director Robert Wise manages the production well but the script really lets him down.  Although suspense is generated by the possible threats against Victoria/Karin and ambiguity about whether she is just paranoid IS created, the fact that her identity theft is simply disregarded and has no implications for the plot at all (despite Victoria revealing that she is not really Karin to a US Major from the liberation team) is bizarre.  In other words, the film sets up a premise that is never fulfilled in the action.  All that said, the film isn’t a bad noir melodrama. 

  

Storm Warning (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Storm Warning (1951) – S. Heisler

Ginger Rogers takes on the Ku Klux Klan in this 1951 noir-ish drama that also stars Ronald Reagan as the D. A. and Doris Day as the naïve wife of a dumbass Klan member.  But this isn’t the KKK you’ve heard about – the script evades any discussion of racism or religious bigotry and instead focuses on the murder of a reporter who threatens to undercover a tax evasion scandal involving the leaders of the Klan.  I guess Hollywood was afraid of making waves in 1951 (but see Crossfire, 1947, and No Way Out, 1950, for braver looks). Setting that aside, if you actually could, the film is actually better-than-average.  Director Stuart Heisler and his team use noir lighting and stage crowd shots in a you-are-there fashion that makes the film feel gripping.  Rogers plays things tough and when she caves in to Klan pressure (to protect her sister, Day) and lies under oath at the coroner’s inquest, her sense of shame and guilt is palpable.  Later, when she is whipped at the Klan rally (yes it happens, and it is shot in a way to heighten its sick and twisted nature), you can see her guilt turn into determination.  Reagan isn’t exactly convincing in his passion to destroy the Klan (he’s too genial here) but at least it is good to see him on the correct side of politics for once.  Day has only a minor part (and no singing) – but I’m glad her agents didn’t foist a Hollywood ending on us (the film makes a last minute pitch to be a true film noir after detouring into Streetcar Named Desire territory).  Steve Cochran is solid as the pathetic husband.  In the end, the film is gutless but perhaps viewers were smart enough to interpolate the real Klan into the plot to get the point?  If so, the entire community’s willingness to support the KKK (or succumb to its pressure) makes this actually a horror film.

The Red Badge of Courage (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Red Badge of Courage (1951) – J. Huston

John Huston’s version of Stephen Crane’s famous civil war novel was famously hacked down to 69 minutes by the studio.  In this form, it has a haunting quality – seemingly showing Audie Murphy’s journey from frightened schoolboy to experienced soldier in a single night. Of course, it has been so long since I read the book (junior high school, perhaps) that its details are lost on me now – it may have focused on a single battle (apparently Chancellorsville, VA, in May 1863).  I also remember this to be an anti-war novel and certainly Henry Fleming (Murphy) and his fellow Union soldiers are depicted as full of fear -- and worried about their honour and how they will appear to others if they show this fear.  The title refers to the war wound that will demonstrate their courage (which Henry secretly hopes to gain).  The book is famous for its psychological explorations of its protagonist’s inner thoughts and the movie captures some of this (often with voiceover dialogue from a narrator) -- but the movie does not dwell on the futility of war or the horrible waste of life that it represents.  Perhaps this is implicit in the endless battle scenes and the way that bodies (even those of characters we once met) are shown carelessly pushed aside or crumpled on the ground in the middle of the path.  Murphy, a WWII hero of incredible renown, plays Fleming as though he is forcing such thoughts out of his mind and perhaps he knew this method through his own experiences.  In the end, Huston manages to capture some complicated emotions, a few moments of reverie through the trees, and a lot of smoke, dust, and traipsing about in the fields.  One wonders what a longer version of the film would have entailed – perhaps a clearer message may have come through – or perhaps we would have entered further into the mind of the soldier and the horror he faces.

The 13th Letter (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆

The 13^th Letter (1951) – O. Preminger

Otto Preminger’s remake of Henri-George Clouzot’s Le Corbeau (1943) loses a lot of the bite and bitterness (and the abortion references) but still retains enough of its mystery to be interesting.  A new young and handsome doctor (Michael Rennie) in a small town in Quebec begins to receive anonymous “poison pen” letters accusing him of having an affair with a senior doctor’s young wife.  The wife (Constance Smith) and the senior doctor (Charles Boyer, almost unrecognisable) also receive letters, as does most of the hospital staff and other people in the town.  Some are ready to believe the doctor is guilty but soon suspicion falls on the wife’s sister (Judith Evelyn), a nurse at the hospital.  When a war hero patient commits suicide after receiving a letter, the nurse is arrested because she had had a recent conflict with the patient, as well as with her sister and the young doctor.  But soon the letters continue…  even as the young doctor falls for another patient (Linda Darnell).  Filmed on location in Quebec, the film looks moody and provincial, with a bit of French spoken for good measure.  Rennie is solid as the aloof young doctor who has secrets of his own.  Still, I can’t help recalling that Le Corbeau struck me harder – I’ll have to rewatch it.

  

The Dancer (Maihime) (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆

The Dancer (Maihime) (1951) – M. Naruse

Just before his big successes with Meshi (1951) and Okaasan (1952), Mikio Naruse made this soapy family drama, scripted by Kaneto Shindo (who went on to direct films of his own).  We enter the story in the middle, with the professor father returning from time away to find the ballet teacher mother in the midst of an affair and the two nearly grown children distant and distracted with their own lives.  Mieko Takamine portrays wife/mother Namiko as full of angst and guilt, unable to decide whether to abandon her cold and angry husband for the gentle caring Takehara-san or to continue to suffer in order to support her children in the name of family stability.  Atypical for Naruse, this is a well-to-do family who have “high culture” tastes and don’t seem to be suffering economically (although there is talk of the war having interfered with their goals and dreams).  Daughter Shinako (played by Mariko Okada who went on to work for Ozu) is following in her mother’s footsteps as a ballet dancer, realizing that she may be the vessel into which Namiko has poured her crushed hopes and dreams.  A few minor subplots take us nowhere and at last there is a major confrontation at the dinner table – an unusual emotional eruption for Japanese families that makes it even more consequential.  And then the ending is happy/sad/perplexing.  It all feels slightly off-key for Naruse who, at his best, was a master of family melodrama and its emotional implications for women. 

  

The Well (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Well (1951) – L. Popkin & R. Rouse

A young African-American girl goes missing and a white man passing through town is accused of kidnapping her.  Thus begins a tense day for the head of police, as things break down along racial lines with each group suspecting unfair biases at play.  To be fair, the film is very explicit that African-Americans suffer more prejudice and injustice at the hands of whites than the other way around but it is also open to the possibility that the white man (Harry Morgan, the only cast member I recognised) is being assumed guilty without a trial by some.  The editing of the film (lots of montage) ratchets up the tension – which is almost at boiling point as mobs form and senseless violent acts are committed.  But then the girl is found (we knew in advance that she had fallen down a well) and the town rallies to use heavy machinery to extract her from the 60 ft. deep shaft.  Uniting around this common goal seems to completely dissipate any racial animosity that existed in the previous 12 hours (as social psychological theory would predict).  It’s all a bit unbelievable (partly due to some wooden acting) yet still gives you a warm feeling when things work out.  If only our real problems were so easily allayed. 

The Lady of Musashino (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Lady of Musashino (1951) – K. Mizoguchi

A “modern” Mizoguchi that takes place in the immediately post-war years and shows the immense changes in Japanese society occurring at that time.  Mizoguchi favourite Kinuyo Tanaka plays the lady in question who honours the traditions of the past, sacrificing her own desires to support her professor husband even though he openly promotes philandering and tries to initiate an affair with her cousin’s wife.  Tanaka herself is in love with her other younger cousin, recently returned from the war and living a hedonistic life in Tokyo, but secretly yearning for the pastoral life back in Musashino.  Mizoguchi paints a wistful picture of the vanishing countryside around the city and its disappearing customs (and morals?).  The cinematography is often lyrical with long shots that find the characters embedded in their setting and quiet moments that let the viewer contemplate the plot.  The plot is ultimately depressing -- this is Mizoguchi after all and he gives Tanaka another chance to show a woman’s suffering, imposed by a society that allows men more freedom (even when they use it selfishly, as Masayuki Mori’s decadent husband does).  In the end, however, this film sees Mizoguchi not yet in his finest form – his classic tragedies (The Life of Oharu, Ugetsu, Sansho the Bailiff) would appear in the next few years.

The River (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The River (1951) – J. Renoir

Renoir’s take on Rumer Godden’s novel is part colonialist  narrative and part documentary footage of the real India (Bengal) of the time. To me, it is an uneasy blend – but in glorious color.  The film is narrated by Godden’s adult alter-ego but she recounts her early adolescence and the arrival of a disabled ex-soldier who was her first crush.  He is the American cousin of a British man next door who had taken an Indian wife (now deceased) and raised a multi-racial daughter.  The film reflects on her status as one who doesn’t belong anywhere but her angst is not very palpable nor is the treatment of her by others very negative -- so Renoir doesn’t hit this theme very hard.  Instead, the mood is more of an extended reverie on childhood and its events; there is one great fantasy scene told by Godden’s stand-in Harriet who is a budding writer.  In this scene, there is birth, a wedding, and rebirth plus Indian music and dance.  The film also includes death in the endless cycle that mimics the river’s flow.  All things must pass, including this moment in time (for both India and the characters in the story). 

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (1951)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Pandora and the Flying Dutchman (1951) – A. Lewin

What sort of leading man is James Mason anyway?  Sophisticated, but vaguely sinister?  Here, as the legendary and immortal Flying Dutchman who sails a ghost ship and can only set forth on land every seven years to find a woman who would die for him, he is definitely an ambivalent figure.  Ava Gardner, as the romantically doomed woman in question, is similarly ambivalent – she is wilfully demanding and controlling of the various men falling at her feet but willing to give herself up in toto to Mason (despite being engaged to someone else).  Director Albert Lewin uses technicolor and an artist’s eye (and help from his friend, Man Ray) to decorate the screen – the Spanish seaside locales don’t hurt one bit.  Overall, this is a romantic fantasy full of grand gestures (including from an impetuous matador) but in which the central figures’ chemistry is strangely lacking.  So, when the foreordained happens and Mason and Gardner can finally achieve peace, it seems that the rest of the characters will just go on without really missing them one bit.