In a Lonely Place (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

In a Lonely Place (1950) – N. Ray

Humphrey Bogart stars as deeply flawed screenwriter, Dixon Steele, who starts the film as a murder suspect after convincing a hat-check girl to come home with him to tell him the story of the novel he has agreed to translate to the screen, which she has read but he can’t be bothered to.  She turns up dead later, after leaving his bungalow. When the cops pick him up, he’s flip and disinterested. Luckily, his new next door neighbour Laurel Gray (Gloria Grahame) saw the girl leave Dix’s apartment and offers him an alibi.  Having been brought together in this way, Dix and Laurel fall in love – and she supports him as he gets down to the business of screenwriting, looking for his first hit in many years. But he’s a temperamental character with a quick fuse and Bogart knows how to turn off the charm, showing Dix’s neurotic, ugly, and bullying side. The police continue to treat him as a suspect and even Laurel starts to worry about him. Director Nicholas Ray manages this ambiguity beautifully, drawing out believably complex portrayals from Bogart and Grahame (Ray’s soon-to-be ex-wife) as their characters’ emotions become dysregulated, potentially due to the pressure of the police investigation on them. But deep down, the audience (and all the characters in the film) realises that there is something not right about Dix Steele – even if he didn’t murder the girl, he probably could have and maybe he might even have enjoyed it. Gray is probably right to be concerned. Yet we want things to work out for them, for love to triumph despite personal defects. Apparently, the original novel and screenplay ended very differently from the version that we see on the screen; both would have been dark noir conclusions but the deeply sad ending that we do get probably lingers longer and has more reverberating implications for real people then the crime that would have ended the picture. Instead, we’re left to contemplate people stuck “in a lonely place” and what factors, controllable or uncontrollable, have lead them there. A masterpiece.

 

All About Eve (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

All About Eve (1950) – J. L. Mankiewicz

It is the screenplay by director Joseph L. Mankiewicz that really carries the film, rather than the cinematography or direction (which are no frills) – and, of course, the larger-than-life portrayal of aging actress Margo Channing by Bette Davis (then 42 herself).  Who can forget “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!” (spoken when Channing is going on a drunken tear after realising that up-and-comer Eve Harrington, played by Anne Baxter, is angling for a plum role earmarked for her).  There are a lot of minor characters here, most played with panache by well-cast players – chief among them is George Sanders as theatre critic Addison De Witt.  Did he ever play the sleazy heel better? (One of his “associates” is a young Marilyn Monroe, playing a dim-witted actress trying to break in).  He’s a perfect match for scheming Eve Harrington who fools most of the others (but not assistant Thelma Ritter or director Gary Merrill, Davis’s real-life husband-to-be), including the playwright (Hugh Marlowe) and his wife (Celeste Holm).  The ways Harrington plays everyone in order to cynically force her way to the top suggests an acidic view of human nature – or just the reality of competitive professions such as actor/acting.  The fact that she doesn’t exactly get what she wants in the end suggests that using people to get ahead could backfire.  As a result, we have more sympathy for Davis’s Channing -- although a tempestuous prima donna, she’s more human because of it.  Davis herself managed to extend her career time and again by accepting new and different roles (for example, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane, 1962, for which she was nominated for the Oscar, as she was for this film).  But it’s hard to say whether her strong-willed personality was cause or effect of this longevity…   

Wagon Master (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Wagon Master (1950) – J. Ford

John Ford’s westerns focused on the benefits of bonding with a community vs. allowing people to exert their individuality when it comes to navigating the risks of the wilderness (although he also later implied that the constraints of civilisation could be burdensome and that something is lost when people subvert their will to the community).  Here, a wagon train of Mormons, led by Ward Bond’s Elder, needs to cross to their “promised land” in Utah – Monument Valley (or similar) is prominent.  The Mormons hire two young horse traders – Ben Johnson and Harry Carey Jr. – to serve as wagon masters, guiding the expedition based on their knowledge of the terrain.  Along the way, they encounter a travelling medicine show, a gang of outlaws, and a group of Navajo.  To some degree, each of these encounters threatens the community but the challenges are all overcome, either by absorbing the newcomers into the existing community (Joanne Dru, Alan Mowbray and the medicine show), creating a (temporary) superordinate community (with the Navajo), or destroying the threat (Charles Kemper and his outlaw family).  Even the wagon masters themselves, who have been rugged individualists thus far, are eventually signed up for a commitment to family and community (if not necessarily to Mormonism).  Throughout the film, the spectacular landscapes do take centre stage and the film looks astonishing in beautiful black and white.  In comparison to other westerns of the time, Ford’s artistry shines through – a set of shots featuring portraits of the main players as they reach a long-sought-after river is simply glorious.

  

The Asphalt Jungle (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Asphalt Jungle (1950) – J. Huston

This textbook example of how a major jewellery heist comes together and then falls apart afterward from director John Huston excels in presenting the little details.  Indeed, it is those human frailties (which may not be unique to the criminal class) that sow the seeds of destruction.  We follow Sterling Hayden from start to finish, as he escapes from the law after another in a string of petty knockovers, meeting up with mastermind Sam Jaffe and financial backers bookie Marc Lawrence and lawyer Louis Calhern, then the job itself and its aftermath.  Hayden just wants to get some dough to go back to his old Kentucky home where his folks raised racehorses (but he keeps blowing it all at the track).  He doesn’t seem to notice that clip joint girl Jean Hagen loves him, but she keeps hanging around.  It turns out that Calhern is broke and keen to doublecross the gang by taking the jewels and fleeing to Mexico.  He’s got an apartment set up for mistress Marilyn Monroe while his ill wife pines away for his company.  Calhern is the biggest heel in the picture, although things really unravel due to the unfortunate but pragmatic relationship between one of the gang and a corrupt cop being squeezed by the police commissioner.  The commissioner himself gets the final word, telling us that the cops are the only thing standing between ordinary people and the predators of the (asphalt) jungle.  In the end, I didn’t have that sense of existential collapse that you find in Rififi or the works of Jean-Pierre Melville, the bittersweet feeling of predictable loss; instead we get a more matter-of-fact rendering that nevertheless is revealing in its portrayal of the human condition.

The Sound of Fury (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Sound of Fury (1950) – C. Endfield

Launching from the same true incident that was the basis for Fritz Lang’s Fury (1936), Cy Endfield’s film also tells the story of mob violence that ends in lynching.  However, The Sound of Fury really turns the screws on Frank Lovejoy’s down-and-out California transplant, showing him to be guilty (at least by association) whereas Spencer Tracy was wrongly accused in the earlier film.  So, this film is a true noir, as Lovejoy’s first mistake leads inexorably to his tragic downfall.  Things are all the tougher to take because he has a wife and a child, one of the reasons that he gives in to the easy money available in the life of crime offered by slick and sleazy Lloyd Bridges (who provides a tremendous incarnation of the sociopath).  So, on the one hand, we understand that social forces have led to Lovejoy’s bad decision, but on the other hand, we can see Bridges is an amoral opportunist.  When the mob descends on them, we know it is wrong tarring Lovejoy and Bridges with the same brush – but Bridges doesn’t deserve lynching any less.  A subplot showing how “yellow journalism” has incited the crowd is a little less effective and more didactic, but viewers can grasp the take home point that democracy requires a fair trial that isn’t biased by the press. The fact that this democratic ideal was subverted here (and in the real incident) makes this a dark and troubling film indeed.  

  

Stars in My Crown (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Stars in My Crown (1950) – J. Tourneur

At first, I thought this was just another John Ford-esque tale of small town American life in the inner West, but gradually its folksy charms and dark realities won me over.  Joel McCrea is the Parson who comes to Walsburg after the Civil War to build community; he takes a wife (Ellen Drew) and together they raise a young orphan (Dean Stockwell) who narrates the tale.  We are treated to numerous anecdotes from the town’s life but the major plot threads involve 1) the gruff young doctor who conflicts with the Parson over how to treat the typhoid epidemic that attacks the town; and 2) the old sharecropper whose property stands in the way of the town’s mining interests and who is confronted one dark night by the KKK.  Mostly though, this is a gentle, affectionate picture with human characters who may or may not believe in God but do believe in having a strong sense of community.  Whether or not the world was ever like this, it does seem a shame when it’s gone. 

  

Orpheus (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Orpheus (1950) – J. Cocteau

Perhaps fittingly, I kept falling asleep and waking back up (I think) as I rewatched Orpheus after a many-year break. Cocteau's dreamscape follows the title character through the mirror to romance death herself before re-embracing life and living. Great cinematic moments with hypnotic very special effects. No excess is absurd, indeed.

Born Yesterday (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Born Yesterday (1950) – G. Cukor

The plot of Garson Kanin's play doesn't seem too subtle -- a brash tycoon trying to buy influence in Washington DC hires a reporter to teach his "dumb blonde" girlfriend to act more properly -- but, in fact, George Cukor's film pulls it off amusingly. The majority of the credit is due to Judy Holliday who won an Oscar for her portrayal of Billie Dawn, the showgirl who may not be as dumb as she seems.  Her delivery is so off-hand and nonchalant that it throws you off your guard and adds a certain naturalism to what is otherwise a tightly scripted affair.  William Holden is excellent as the idealistic political reporter who teaches Billie about Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Paine, and the workings of democracy -- so much so that she comes to realize that her boyfriend is in the process of bribing members of Congress to get his way.  Broderick Crawford is all bluster as the tycoon junk dealer but fulfills his role well.  A bit naive perhaps (when seen from the vantage point of 65 years on) but enjoyable all the way through.

Night and the City (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Night and the City (1950) – J. Dassin

With Dassin’s talent for film noir to aid him, this is really Richard Widmark’s show.  His nervous energy drives the frantic pace of the film and gives even the quieter moments a tense desperation.  He’s a hustler, trying to make a name for himself by any means possible, clearly because he’s been kicked around so long and is the laughingstock of the London underworld.  In reality, Widmark is working for (one of my faves) Francis L. Sullivan as a “tout” for his sleazy club, the Silver Fox but he does happen upon one plausible scheme – to promote wrestling backed by a famous retired Greek champion.  However, it probably isn’t such a good idea that said champion is really the father of the current wrestling promoter (a mobster played by Herbert Lom) and starting this new venture equates to dirty double-crossing and worse.  So, this is a tale of doom and Widmark’s bad decisions and just plain bad luck makes him an archetypal noir loser, done up in low-key lighting on gritty London streets.

Rashomon (1950)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Rashomon (1950) -- A. Kurosawa

The film that brought Kurosawa (and Japanese film more generally) attention in the West (despite a long tradition and some other good Kurosawa films like Stray Dog) really is all that it is cracked up to be.  The cinematography is beautiful, with dappled light on the forest floor or streaming through the leaves above.  Mifune chews the scenery (and inspires all subsequent caricatures) but this raving bandit stands in contrast to his earlier more sober parts (thus showing this to be a measured choice in acting style, not an inflexible mode). The famous story of the rape and murder in the woods is told in flashback from at least four points of view (but in fact recounted by only 1 or 2 characters sheltering under the Rashomon gate from a rainstorm).  The central theme here is the subjectivity of human experience (since all 4 versions vary in their details) and the way that we bend our perception for selfish ends. This may typically be a result of self-deception or motivated bias but, in Kurosawa's film, someone is obviously lying as well.  Otherwise things don't add up.  It is a measure of Kurosawa's genius (or a happy accident) that he allows this final ambiguity, even as he puts in a plug for the basic goodness of humanity in the face of evil.