Thieves' Highway (1949)"He'd be so crazy to get 'em he might even make a straight deal." Thieves' Highway started out like a classic. Characters and situations are set up cleanly with smart dialogue and great directorial touches (like the kids trying to catch the falling apples.) Loved seeing Millard Mitchell (Singin' in the Rain) in a strong supporting performance. There's a phenomenal suspense scene involving a flat tire on a dirt ditch. Jules Dassin brings a slightly stylized grit and the imagery is so stark and crisp it looks like a breakthrough in camera photography. Overall I loved the direction and the bargaining for apple prices. This is where Richard Conte's Nick came off a capable going up against Lee J. Cobb's Figlia.
The question I'm wrestling with is how much leeway do I give this rube because I know he's in a Film Noir and he doesn't? Nick is too naive for my tastes. It makes sense because he's new to the business, but it makes it hard to root for him when a history of dozens of prior Noirs makes me so aware of problems I think even a newbie like Sandy would be yelling at her television. (Don't yell out in a restaurant full of desperate truckers that you have $4000 on you. Especially when you know they're listening.)
The film went downhill for me when Rica (Valentina Cortese) hit on Nick. It's such an obvious obstacle, I wanted to see Nick show some resistance. I wondered if he was aware but playing dumb to get in deeper. Nope, he's just being stupid. This relationship develops in an interesting way. Martin calls it "turning the good girl/bad girl motif on its ear" except I don't believe it. Not for a moment.
Then there are the little things. There's another pair of apple truckers who lay on the city hick talk real thick. Figlia's got a couple of cronies of his own who push their character actor quirkiness to the limit. The ending, while not as big a turnaround as Woman in the Window feels like it was written by the studio. Through it all, I remained impressed by Jules Dassin's direction. He's got a bum tune, but he makes it sing.
RATING: ★ ★ ★ - Okay Brute Force (1947)
★ ★ ★ - Good I don't know which prison films are said to be the gold standard, but this one hits all the classic beats and hits them quite well, with good, tough performances and smooth direction that's just a hair shy of seeming too artfully staged. The last two prison films I watched were the stripped down A Man Escaped and Le Trou. This is a much fuller picture, with backstories on the prisoners and more time with the warden and his staff. It feels bloated with so many side trips (though I loved seeing the mesmerizing eyes of Ella Raines again), but overall this is a solid film. It also has a terrific last 15 minutes. I've complained about there being very few good, exciting action sequences before 1970 (except in Westerns). This is one of the few. A real edge of your seat blast of excitement where the outcome doesn't feel pre-determined in the least.
Night and the City (1950)
★ ★ A bit of a disappointment, especially after hearing critics sing its praises back when the DeNiro remake was being trashed. Having not seen the original I liked Bobby D's film okay. I was hoping for something here on par with Pickup on South Street at the least. Not even close. The film noir style is in full visual effect, and this is an appropriately hard-edged trip down the seedy streets of London. (I say 'visual' because the dialogue is lacking the sharp-tongued hipsterism I love most of all about noir.) The story is too thin, like a noir fairy tale where every character is there to fulfill their one big plot point. Nearly all of the characters aren't fleshed out into anything interesting. Many of them get two major scenes: a set up and the payoff. They merely keep our lead running around.
What completely sinks Night and the City is Richard Widmark's awful performance in the lead. He acts with the boundless ham of Mickey Rooney, but Rooney was doing comedies and musicals. This is supposed to be serious. He's endlessly unconvincing. I'm talking Tommy Wiseau bad. There's a moment in the beginning where he's caught looking through a woman's purse and he goes, "What do you mean spying on me? I was just looking for a cigarette." Only he says the first line really angry and the second totally charming with barely a pause between the two.
The big dramatic turn involves a fight that turns into a life or death wrestling match. I have to assume this kind of wrestling was exciting back in 1950. Today, it looks uncomfortably, accidentally homoerotic as the two bare-chested men try to bear hug each other into submission. Goes on for what feels like quite a long time. Probably because there's no feeling anyone is winning. Just a lot of closeups of arms running across the rolls of sweaty back fat.