Black Christmas (1974)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Black Christmas (1974) – B. Clark

Forerunner to what became a veritable tidal wave of slasher films in the 1980s, Bob Clark was the first to unleash a psychopathic killer in a sorority house (but with little gore and no t&a). Is this the first outing for the POV tracking camera shot, sneaking up behind the girls or watching them from closets or behind railings? (Perhaps some of the Italian giallo films were there first, with their art-directed setpieces?). Margot Kidder (fresh from De Palma’s Sisters) steals all of her scenes as the foul-mouthed drunken party girl who teases the police who are investigating the disappearance of another girl. But Olivia Hussey is the real heroine, helping Detective John Saxon to tap the telephone that the killer uses to make obscene calls (“the call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE”), even as we come to suspect her classical pianist boyfriend (Keir Dullea) who isn’t happy that she plans to have an abortion. Other reviewers found the film terrifying but perhaps I’m now too jaded – it lands as a dated low budget but generally well-acted artefact.

 

Desert Fury (1947)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

Desert Fury (1947) – L. Allen

Technicolor noir that looks great but tends toward soap opera and fails to bring the bite that the best in the genre offer. Yet, at the same time, this is one of the more brazen (or very thinly veiled) portrayals of a gay relationship in Forties film.  Paula Haller (Lizabeth Scott) returns to her small Nevada town after leaving or getting kicked out of college, much to the displeasure of her mother, Fritzi (Mary Astor), who runs the local gambling den and dreams of better things for her daughter. Better things, like being married to ex-rodeo-star-turned-deputy-sheriff Tom Hanson (Burt Lancaster). However, when racketeer Eddie Bendix (John Hodiak) and his “friend” Johnny (Wendell Corey) return to town, Paula finds herself drawn to the gangster instead of the cop (despite the rumours that he killed his first wife).  Eddie and Johnny really do act like an old married couple, bickering all the time. But it doesn’t take long before Johnny tells Paula she’s butting in and that Eddie will never leave Johnny.  Of course, Johnny’s just Eddie’s mentor and buddy, right?  Paula’s a bit too thick to figure it all out and she tries to steal Eddie away.  It’s good to see Mary Astor (The Maltese Falcon, 1941) again in another hard-bitten but charismatic role.  Lancaster doesn’t have much to do but his star was on the ascendant by this time. Corey will be familiar to fans of Rear Window.  All told, Desert Fury is a fascinating curiosity on one level but not too exciting on most other levels.    

 

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”.

 

Gone to Earth (1950)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Gone to Earth (1950) – M. Powell & E. Pressburger

The Archers (Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger) declared this a success (by having the arrow hit the bullseye before the opening credits) and it does achieve a certain sense of time and place (with some beautiful Technicolor images) as their best work does (e.g., Black Narcissus, I Know Where I’m Going!, The Red Shoes, etc. etc.). Jennifer Jones (then wife of executive producer David O. Selznick who took the finished film and drastically re-cut it, releasing it as The Wild Heart, an inferior version) plays Hazel Woodus, a naïve young girl, daughter of the local harp player, who is courted by both the mild-mannered local parson (Cyril Cusack) and the randy local squire (David Farrar). Impetuously, she can’t make up her mind (even after being married) and seemingly prefers the world of animals to humans, especially her pet fox, who is under threat from the squire and his fox-hunting mates.  It’s a small film, situated in a folksy backwoods part of Scotland (I think), where some locals believe in the world of faeries and their magic while others have devoted themselves to Christianity. If I were a young girl, I might be entranced by the romantic angle but this left me a little cold despite appreciating Hazel’s confusion and ambivalence toward being loved and controlled.  The ending is quite a doozy however and worth the price of admission!

 

Champion (1949)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Champion (1949) – M. Robson

Less a film-noir than a straightforward morality tale, but with the fight game as its vehicle, I guess it fits with other films in the genre such as The Set-Up (1949) or Body and Soul (1947). But Kirk Douglas, as the boxer who rises from poverty to the championship, seems unambiguously selfish and uncaring – there isn’t a fatal mistake that he makes to bring on film noir’s downbeat consequences but rather his whole approach to life is to tread on other people.  In that way, his downfall feels more like comeuppance or just desserts; the terrible fickle finger of fate that so often strikes down noir protagonists doesn’t appear here – instead we come to hate Douglas, although perhaps we also feel pity since he can’t seem to shake his anger at being abandoned by his father as a child and looked down upon by others because of his poverty. The film clearly identifies this anger as the source of his success as a boxer but it is sad that he can’t reciprocate the caring and support he receives from those around him: his brother (Arthur Kennedy), his manager (Paul Stewart), and his first love (Ruth Roman). He lets them all down in his quest for fame and status. As directed by Mark Robson (previously part of producer Val Lewton’s stable of directors), the film is well-paced with some quirky montage scenes (of training) before the going gets grim. Stanley Kramer produced but this is before his pictures became too message-heavy. With all these caveats in mind, the film still stands out as a showcase for the talents of the up-and-coming Kirk Douglas – his charisma knows no bounds and he offers a brave performance that isn’t afraid to embrace the anti-hero.

 

The Bridge (Series 1; 2011)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Bridge (Series 1; 2011) – M. Mårlind, H. Rosenfeldt, & B. Stein

In search of a series that I can watch in the limited time between when the kids go to bed and when I need to get some shut-eye before work the next day, I turned to yet another cop drama/serial killer thriller. This one did come highly recommended – from Sweden/Denmark. We begin with a dead body found on the bridge between Copenhagen and Malmo, neatly placed exactly halfway across the border. Swedish detective Saga Norén (Sofia Helin) takes charge of the investigation – she has an unusual way of interacting with people, let’s say she is neurodivergent – but she is an excellent detective. She is partnered with Danish investigator Martin Rohde (Kim Bodnia) who is bemused by her behaviour but comes to feel affection for her. His family life is complicated – his 20 year old son from a former marriage has just started living with him and his wife and their young children. As the case unfolds, the writers deftly weave the lives of the detectives into the fabric of the mystery – is the killer someone they’ve known or worked with? What is his motive? The 10-part series is gripping enough and the characters are rich and charismatic – it might lead to binge watching.  But, in the end, it's just another in a long line of similar thrillers, enjoyable while it lasts, but evaporating soon after. I’m not sure I’m ready for the second series just yet, but maybe someday.

  

Alias Nick Beal (1949)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Alias Nick Beal (1949) – J. Farrow

Although Ray Milland plays the title character, a Mephistophelean political advisor to District Attorney Joseph Foster (Thomas Mitchell), the film really belongs to Mitchell who descends the slippery slope inherent in the Faustian bargain offered by Nick Beal. This is Goethe by way of political noir: should Foster run for governor on the back of his successful prosecution of a local gangster (facilitated by Beal)? Should he allow Beal to make a deal with another corrupt politician that will bring him the voting bloc he needs to win? Foster may think that becoming governor will enable him to do all the good he can but we can see the corrosive effect on his morals with each baby step in the wrong direction, goaded by Beal. Milland, who had already won the Best Actor Oscar three years earlier (for The Lost Weekend, 1945), plays Beal as a shadowy figure with strange eyes, always on the periphery of the scenes he is in. He plays harder with Donna Allen (Audrey Totter), a prostitute whom he refashions into a competent campaign assistant for Foster, who we think is also positioned to lead him into an affair. Throughout the film, the references to Beal as the devil incarnate proliferate but it’s difficult to know his game – does he seek only Foster’s soul, or a high-placed political leader that he can control? Director John Farrow (Mia’s dad) and cinematographer Lionel Lindon keep things suitably noir with lots of foggy locales. Mitchell seems genuinely torn and remorseful but the film either never becomes dark enough or the inevitable ending isn’t the right one (although it is pretty weird).