Panique (1946)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Panique (1946) – J. Duvivier

Michel Simon plays Monsieur Hire, an outsider, probably Jewish, who is suspected by his neighbours of committing a murder (which we know was really committed by a local thug played by Paul Bernard). When the thug’s girlfriend returns from prison, having taken the rap for him, she moves into M. Hire’s hotel and they become acquainted. He implies that he has evidence that ties the real murderer to the crime and she feigns an interest in him in order to get into his apartment. We learn his sad story (his wife left him for his best friend) and feel sorry for him when he falls for the girlfriend, Alice (Viviane Romance). Indeed, Alice also begins to feel sympathy for M. Hire – but not enough to stop her from planting evidence of the murder (the victim’s handbag) in his apartment, at the request of her lover. Once the evidence is found, the gangster and his friends wind up the community, already negatively predisposed against Hire, and soon a vigilante mob is formed. In this way, the film is not dissimilar from other films which tell how easy it is for malicious rumours to gain sway over a group (see also Fritz Lang’s Fury, 1936). Coming just after WWII in France, it isn’t hard to read the film as a grimly pointed commentary about those who collaborated.  But, as directed by Julien Duvivier, the film takes time to develop its central character (Hire) and dwells enough on Alice’s psychology to give the audience a pang of regret when she suffers her (deserved) fate. The plainly artificial sets harken back to Carné and Prévert’s poetic realism but this film is less noir than melodrama but none the worse for that. 

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946) – F. Capra

I guess I am an old softie because tears still well up in my eyes when I watch this old classic. Something about the disappointment that George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) feels when he sacrifices his own desires in favour of helping the community (again and again) combined with everything coming horribly unstuck when the old Building and Loan is finally going to be destroyed by evil old man Potter (Lionel Barrymore) that then sets the stage for that incredible ending when that same community comes together to save the day.  They are happy tears or perhaps something similar but different (seems as though there could/should be research on this). Of course, as a film noir fan, I’m always impressed that the scenes where George’s guardian angel Clarence (Henry Travers) shows him what Bedford Falls would be like if George had never been born are as dark as many noirs (although Amon pointed out that some of the plot seems stolen from Dickens’ A Christmas Carol – a person has a sort of awakening after a spirit shows him an alternate reality). Of course, there’s also a heavy dose of sentimentality (a Frank Capra speciality) and perhaps more time than is necessary spent on George’s romance with Mary (Donna Reed) even if we never do get to know their kids.  Yet, the film somehow never seems to descend into true sappiness -- at least not for me (and the millions of other people who watch this at Christmas) – and I feel more optimistic about life having watched it.  

The Blue Dahlia (1946)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Blue Dahlia (1946) – G. Marshall

Raymond Chandler’s only credited solo screenplay (he worked with others on Double Indemnity, 1944, and Strangers on a Train, 1951 and many of his novels were adapted for the screen by others), although he complained that director George Marshall took many liberties, including changing the ending (which is to say the actual murderer!).  Johnny Morrison (Alan Ladd) and his buddies Buzz (William Bendix) and George (Hugh Beaumont) are airmen just back from WWII, trying to return to civilian life.  Buzz has a steel plate in his head and is disoriented and aggressive most of the time – George tries to look after him and they take an apartment together. Johnny returns to find his wife Helen (Doris Dowling) turned into a party girl, drunk most of the time, and obviously sleeping with club owner Eddie Harwood (Howard Da Silva) – he walks out on her.  Of course, that night, she is murdered (this is noir, after all).  Johnny avoids the cops, hoping to find Helen’s killer and exonerate himself and his friends; he’s helped by Veronica Lake, a mysterious woman who picks him up in the rain. Ladd and Lake were often teamed up but apparently disliked each other; Chandler called her Moronica and felt that she hurt the film.  My view is that she’s no Lauren Bacall but she manages an underwritten role okay. Although the film feels less formulaic for most of its runtime, the ending does turn toward the standard whodunit. Chandler’s original plot would have been a lot more poignant -- which is not to say we still don’t feel for these returned veterans.

 

The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946) – T. Garnett

John Garfield is the drifter, Frank, who takes a job as a handyman for a roadside diner and petrol station run by Nick (Cecil Kelloway), a funny older gent who is married to the much younger Cora (Lana Turner).  Frank can’t resist Cora’s flirtations and impetuously kisses her – soon they are dreaming of what their lives would be like with Nick out of the way.  Most of the film is a long build-up to their murder attempt with Cora sometimes hot and sometimes cold toward Frank.  Is Garfield a sucker? Probably – this is film noir, after all.  He has numerous opportunities to escape the situation (and almost does).  Soon the D. A. (Leon Ames) is on their case, trying to pit them against each other – but lawyer Hume Cronyn handles things.  Or does he?  There are enough twists here, perhaps ironic twists, to keep things interesting – but mostly this is a slow burn, as Garfield’s Frank is defeated by lust and then something different, a fatalistic impulse that draws him to doom like a moth to the flame. The Italian version (Ossessione, 1943) of James M. Cain’s novella is strong but the ‘80s remake with Nicholson and Lange is not.   

La Belle et La Bête (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

La Belle et La Bête (1946) – J. Cocteau

At the start of the film, auteur Jean Cocteau requests that we accept the events that will unfold with a childlike simplicity and wonder.  This is not at all hard to do.  The movie feels exactly like a fairy tale, set in some rather distant past (“once upon a time”) where a lucky trader’s daughter might hope to marry a prince.  Except the heroine of the tale (Josette Day) is one of those daughters that is bullied and taken advantage of by her older sisters (not step-sisters this time) but is the most devoted and genuinely caring toward her old man. So, when he picks a rose for her from the gardens of a mysterious castle in the middle of the woods and is confronted by a hairy, possibly scary, man-beast (Jean Marais) who demands his life or a daughter’s life in exchange, she sneaks out in the night to give herself up to the beast.  And, of course, the beast, who is secretly sad and romantic, falls in love with her.  However, despite his tenderness toward her, she is too afraid to return his affection, though perhaps she starts to feel the same way.  Cocteau and cinematographer Henri Alekan and production design team Christian Bérard and Lucien Carré have created a magical realm full of surrealistic touches (candelabras held by human hands, statues with eyes that move) but none stranger and more satisfying than the look of the Beast himself with those sad eyes and moveable ears.  Cocteau uses Méliès-styled camera tricks (flying up to the clouds at the end) wisely and well.  But, overall, it is those feelings of love, longing, loyalty, empathy, and sadness that Cocteau captures indelibly that elevate the film to its masterpiece status.  If we add another layer of analysis to suggest that the kingdom of the Beast is actually that of Hades/Death, then the links to Cocteau’s subsequent Orpheus (1950), another masterwork, are much clearer and the film takes on an even more mysterious tone. 

The Razor’s Edge (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Razor’s Edge (1946) – E. Goulding

Once upon a time, this was an important movie to me (and I later read the book by Somerset Maugham).  Perhaps it still is.  My interest was always in the character of Larry Darrell (played by Tyrone Power), who returns from WWI hollowed out and searching for meaning.  He can’t bring himself to commit to the world of business and materialism and the usual domesticity.  His wealthy fiancée (Gene Tierney) promises to wait for him when he sails off to Paris to find answers to his questions.  However, the wait becomes too long and she breaks off the engagement and marries another friend, a millionaire who is much more traditional.  Meanwhile, Larry works in a coal mine and then goes on a quest, visiting a holy man in India and then choosing a period of solitude.  When he has learned what he can, he returns to Paris to find….melodrama.  Although the movie doesn’t make explicit the comparisons, the experiences of the people around Larry are filled with suffering and we witness their different reactions to it (different to the meaning-making reaction of Larry to the suffering in war).  Sophie (Anne Baxter, who won the Oscar) responds by drowning herself in booze (and you can’t help but think of Gene Tierney’s later travails).  Gray (John Payne) experiences psychosomatic symptoms. Larry tries to help them and we witness the public’s reaction to him through the shrewish sniping by Clifton Webb (Tierney’s uncle) and the fond but noncommittal approach taken by Maugham himself (played by Herbert Marshall).  I always felt some affiliation to Larry (and the movie must encourage this), thinking about life as something you guide and chart out, like a quest, rather than something that just happens to you.  The philosophy of existentialism, where one takes responsibility for one’s actions and one’s life, rather than ascribing it to destiny or some greater power, seemed/seems accurate.  But Larry Darrell found something that made him feel one with the universe (which I have only rarely felt) – he rejected the values of his society and sought a spiritual answer that potentially allowed him to transcend suffering (or to work through it). This seems the most challenging part of life, to handle stresses and tragedies with aplomb, and it might take a lifetime to master it.  Unfortunately, the movie doesn’t provide a blueprint, so we’ll have to work it out for ourselves.  However, it is a sumptuous production that explores deeper ideas than most Hollywood fare and I am forever returning to it.

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Best Years of Our Lives (1946) – W. Wyler

I usually tread carefully around multiple award winners (seven Oscars for this one), just because they sometimes err on the side of cloying sentimentality and populist opinion, losing some edge in exchange.  However, this is not true of The Best Years of Our Lives, the story of three servicemen returning from WWII to uncertain futures back in the US.  Indeed, the title itself is ironic. Under ex-Air Force officer Willy Wyler’s direction and following Robert E. Sherwood's script, the film pulls no punches in its uncompromising view of the difficulties facing those returning from war, whether they be blue collar (Dana Andrews), middle class (Harold Russell), or better off (Fredric March).  After falling in together on their way back to “Boone City” (a stand in for Cincinnati, more or less) from points overseas, the three leads stick with each other and we follow their intersecting paths.  Russell has lost both hands (true of the actor as well as the character) and has trouble accepting his girl’s love thinking it only pity. March takes to drinking and has a run in with his boss at the bank over small loans to returning G.I.’s (but he has the support of his lovely wife Myrna Loy and daughter Teresa Wright).   Andrews suffers from PTSD, discovers that his war bride is a party girl who wants no part of him now that he is broke, and can’t even keep his old job as a soda jerk at the drugstore (now taken over by a corporate chain – a sign of things to come).  Although the film follows these men (and their families) long enough to see them start to adapt, I agree with critic Kent Jones that there is plenty of evidence that things may not go well for them in the future.  And as critic Jonathan Rosenbaum points out, the film offers an eye-opening vantage point for the real lived experiences of that generation, quite different from the burnished brass-plated nostalgia that often passes for reality.  Moreover, I fear that society continues to offer an insensitive cold shoulder to our returning vets and ever will it be thus. This film could offer a useful corrective.

Great Expectations (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Great Expectations (1946) – D. Lean

Ever since seeing this in my 9th grade English class (thanks, Mrs. McAuliffe!), it has been a personal favorite. David Lean's expressionistic direction and stunning B&W photography makes this adventure-romance with its many twists and turns, gripping from start to finish. I'd imagine this was incredible as a serial back in Dickens' day.

  

My Darling Clementine (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

My Darling Clementine (1946) – J. Ford

Archetypal John Ford western. Looks great and never a dull moment with Wyatt Earp, Doc Holliday, et al. at the OK Corral. Is civilization coming to Tombstone?

Mildred Pierce (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Mildred Pierce (1946) – M. Curtiz

Joan Crawford works hard for the money but devotes it all to her spoiled rotten daughter. With all the noir trappings (murder, flashbacks, shadowy lighting, double-crosses). A desperate need for love pushes her beyond the pale?

The Killers (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Killers (1946) – R. Siodmak

I haven’t read the Hemingway short story in a long time but I don’t think it involves Edmond O’Brien’s insurance investigator zealously putting the facts together after the titular killers have offed Burt Lancaster.  But this is exactly the structure that Siodmak’s exemplary film noir takes – that’s right, all flashbacks as O’Brien identifies and interviews one relevant person after another, slowly piecing together a major crime (hat factory payroll) and a dirty double cross involving a too good to be true femme fatale (young Ava Gardner).  Low-key high contrast lighting (shadows everywhere) is the order of the day and a fair few additional trademarks of the noir genre also make an appearance (boxing ring, heist, protagonist hiding out under an alias in a small town, professional killers, hospital deathbed clues in last words, and so on).  Lancaster comes across a bit more naïve than he might later in his career but this serves the story fine.  One of the classics.

A Matter of Life and Death (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

A Matter of Life and Death (1946) -- M. Powell & E. Pressburger

Powell and Pressburger's late wartime fantasy about a downed pilot (David Niven) who finds himself having to bail out of his plane without a parachute.  His last conversation is with Kim Hunter, an American WAAC, who offers him consolation.  But then, mysteriously, he doesn't die -- it seems his "conductor" to heaven (filmed in black and white, whereas the real world is technicolor) missed him in the fog. Niven and Hunter immediately embark on a love affair during the "borrowed" time and when the mistake is caught and he is asked to surrender himself to the other world, he refuses.   On Earth, a neuroscientist (Roger Livesly) attempts to diagnosis Niven's hallucinations, recommending brain surgery; in the other world, an appeals court is set up to determine whether he should live or die.  Both events converge and, in fact, the whole movie hinges on whether British and American values and character can be reconciled. Defending the Allied romance of Niven and Hunter is therefore a metaphor for larger issues on the international scene.  Beautifully eccentric.

Notorious (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Notorious (1946) -- A. Hitchcock

Dark Hitchcock romance (some call it his best, some call it sadomasochistic) which takes place in the aftermath of WWII in South America where escaped Nazi scientists are still plotting away.  Of course, what they are cooking up down there is just a MacGuffin for Cary Grant and the CIA to chase after with the help of bad girl Ingrid Bergman.  Of course she falls for Grant but he is a chilly constricted bastard to her.  Hitchcock is in full flower using tracking shots to reveal "key" plot elements and point-of-view shots to show consequential subjective states. He intercuts those dwindling champagne bottles to really ratchet up the suspense.  As Claude Rains is forced to find out, you only hurt the one you love.  We almost feel bad for him, Nazi that he is (another of Hitch's nasty experiments in audience identification?).  Masterful.

The Big Sleep (1946)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Big Sleep (1946) -- H. Hawks

My latest theory about why Howard Hawks' version of Chandler's The Big Sleep is so rewatchable has to do with its largely incomprehensible plot.  I think the brain is tricked into not remembering (and therefore not becoming bored with) the details of the film (which I have watched year after year) because things don't add up.  Yet, The Big Sleep is still compelling as a series of snappy banters written for Bogie and Bacall interspersed between the great set-pieces that provide the noir atmosphere.  Although not as dark as the later noirs to come, for the private eye genre, this (and The Maltese Falcon) really top the heap. My highest honors.