OUT OF THE PAST

Jane Greer

OUT OF THE PAST (1947). Director: Jacques Tourneur.

"You're like a leaf that's been blown from one gutter to another."

Jeff (Robert Mitchum) has a new life running a gas station, as well as a girlfriend named Ann (Virginia Huston), when his past catches up with him in the person of gunsel, Joe (Paul Valentine). Joe works for crooked big shot Whit (Kirk Douglas), and some time ago he hired Jeff to go after his gorgeous gal pal, Kathie (Jane Greer), who not only shot Whit but left town with $40,000 in cash. In flashback we learn how Jeff caught up with Kathie and decided he wanted her for himself. But Kathie may have had other plans. Now she's back with Whit, who wants Jeff to do a favor for him -- or else. Well, Out of the Past should be prime film noir -- it certainly has all of the elements (even if much of it is actually played in sunlight instead of shadows), including a beautiful femme fatale, but somehow this just doesn't add up. The characters are little more than stick figures, brought to life with satisfactory but somehow second-rate thesping. Everyone, especially Douglas, who underplays nicely, is cool and professional but there's something missing, although Paul Valentine [House of Strangers] probably has the best role of his career in this and runs with it. Virginia Huston [Tarzan's Peril] is pleasant and competent but she only had a few credits after this. Dickie Moore [Passion Flower] makes an impression as the deaf and mute boy who works for Jeff at the gas station, as do Ken Niles as the nervous lawyer, Eels, and Rhonda Fleming as his secretary. Others in the cast are Steve Brodie as Jeff's former partner, and Richard Webb as a man who's carrying a long-time torch for Ann. The film is beautifully photographed in crisp black and white by Nicholas Musuraca [Clash By Night], and Roy Webb has contributed an effective theme. There's a certain poignancy to the conclusion, hinging on a not-so-little white lie. (Whether the lie should have been told or not Ill leave up to the individual viewer.) There's so much confusing going back and forth from place to place by the cast that it gets somewhat tiresome after awhile.

Verdict: For a great film noir with Robert Mitchum watch Otto Preminger's Angel Face instead of this. **1/2. 

CLASH BY NIGHT

Barbara Stanwyck and Paul Douglas in a tense moment

CLASH BY NIGHT (1952). Director: Fritz Lang. Based on the play by Clifford Odets; screenplay by Alfred Hayes.

"Home is where you come when you run out of places."

"I'm tired of looking after men. I want to be looked after!"

"I guess it's terrible to get old and lonely. I guess that's what everyone's afraid of."

"You impress me as a man who needs a new suit of clothes or a new love affair, but he doesn't know which." 

Mae Doyle (Barbara Stanwyck) returns to the fishing village where she was born to escape unhappy memories of her failure to find lasting love and success in New York. She begins dating fisherman Jerry D'Amato (Paul Douglas) but can't stand his insolent friend Earl (Robert Ryan) and at first fights her attraction to him. Mae eventually marries one of those men, and an unpleasant triangle situation develops. The basic plot may be nothing new, but this is based on a play by Clifford Odets and has a richness of character and detail that lifts it far above the usual marital infidelity drama. Stanwyck and Douglas are superb and Ryan gives one of his finest performances which calls on him to be both hard and pathetically vulnerable. J. Carroll Naish gives another of his exemplary performances as Jerry's uncle, and Silvio Minciotti also scores as his old papa. There's also very nice work from Keith Andes [introduced in the film] and Marilyn Monroe [in her pre-stardom days] as, respectively, Mae's somewhat disapproving brother and his rather independent girlfriend. The film is very well directed by Fritz Lang, and beautifully photographed by Nicholas Musuraca. The only negative thing about the movie is the phoney Hollywood happy ending forced on it by the production code.

Verdict: It's a shame this lovely, intense adult drama isn't better known. ***1/2.

THE SEVENTH VICTIM

THE SEVENTH VICTIM (1943). Director: Mark Robson. 

Mary Gibson (Kim Hunter, who was introduced in this film), searches for her missing older sister Jacqueline (Jean Brooks) in New York with the help of various friends and associates, and learns that she has gotten involved with a bunch of devil worshipers. This is easily one of producer Val Lewton's best films -- although it is not for every taste -- and he and director Robson make the most of a low budget. Nicholas Musuraca contributed the crisp black and white cinematography. Although there are some moments in the film that stretch the credulity -- the satanists carting off a corpse manage to wind up on the exact same subway car as Mary --there are also sequences that are creepy and very well done, such as a murder in a abandoned office, and a chase through Greenwich Village. The screenplay (by DeWitt Bodeen and Charles O'Neal) has several interesting characters, intriguing aspects, and excellent dialogue. Tom Conway plays a psychiatrist, Louis Judd; Hugh Beaumont (Ward of Leave it to Beaver, who is better than expected) is Jacqueline's husband, Gregory; Erford Gage is the sensitive poet Jason (Gage was to live only two more years, killed in the Philippines in '45); and Lou Lubin is the ill-fated private eye Irving August. [One of the supporting actors is the son of the great opera star Feodor Chaliapin.] The surprising thing about The Seventh Victim isn't that it casts a strange spell, but that it's unexpectedly moving. Isabel Jewell has a powerful moment reacting to Jacqueline's possible death in such a way that it's clear she's in love with her, and the ending -- with a terminally ill woman (Elizabeth Russell) going out for one last fling as Jacqueline makes a fateful final decision -- if contrived, still packs a quiet wallop. 

Verdict: Imperfect, certainly, but there's more here than meets the eye. ***.