Film Noir Series: Clash by Night (1952)

My latest Film Noir Spotlight entry for Next Projection. The ninth film on my list is Clash by Night (1952).

It would be easy to dismiss Clash by Night as a simple melodrama – one that shouldn’t be categorized as a film noir. And while the film – based on the 1941 play by Clifford Odets – is a domestic drama, it carries over familiar noir themes.

After a 10-year absence, 30-something Mae Doyle (Barbara Stanwyck) returns to her hometown of Monterey, a tiny fishing village in California. Tired of her life as the mistress to a married man, Mae decides to reconnect with her brother, Joe (Keith Andes), to help take her mind off her cynical outlook on relationships and love. When Joe’s girlfriend, Peggy (Marilyn Monroe), asks Mae why she decided to return, Mae responds, “Home is where you come when you run out of places.” After Mae meets nice-guy fisherman Jerry D’Amato (Paul Douglas), she agrees to marry him after a short courtship, much to the surprise of the townsfolk. Enter Earl Pfeiffer (Robert Ryan), Jerry’s younger, hotheaded work colleague that Mae immediately finds herself drawn to. Shortly after giving birth to Jerry’s daughter, Mae embarks on a torrid love affair with Earl which isn’t kept secret for long.

In a departure from his usual dystopian fare (like classics Metropolis and M), Austrian director Fritz Lang opens his film with multiple shots of crashing waves, a foreshadowing of the domestic strife about to emerge. With his use of images from nature – screeching seagulls and clouds drifting swiftly over the moon – Lang reflects the ever-changing emotions of his central characters.

Robert Ryan and Barbara Stanwyck

As Mae, Stanwyck shines. She easily draws men – and viewers – into her tangled web, moving effortlessly back and forth between being likeable and being despised. Even in this unconventional noir she remains the very essence of a femme fatale.

Monroe plays against type, sporting bulky pants and a rough and tumble attitude about relationships and gender equality as the adorably plucky Peggy. Constantly picking fights with Joe – both verbal and physical – Peggy admires Mae’s take on life, much to Joe’s concern. In 1952, Monroe was on the cusp of the stardom that would result in her icon status. Her portrayal of Peggy hints at the greatness to come.

Douglas gives a sensitive, if somewhat stagy and overacted, performance as the cuckolded Jerry. He depicts him as too soft to properly defend himself against Mae and Earl, but his intentions are always in the right place.

As the irascible Earl, Ryan gives a startlingly brutal performance. His character is hard to like and, instead of trying to make him more vulnerable, Ryan runs with it – the chemistry between he and Stanwyck is raw animal magnetism. It’s hard to believe there is any real love there, only a mutual understanding that they share commonalities of character.

More than anything, Clash by Night acts as postwar gender commentary, a familiar trope in noir. Mae tirelessly rants about the changing masculinity, resentfully referring to men as “little and nervous, like sparrows.” While talking to Peggy, Mae expresses her desire to wind up with a man who has confidence – confidence to allow her to have her own strength of character and independence but without feeling emasculated by it.

Unfortunately, the film closes with a moralistic return to “order.” The conclusion does little to truly resolve the issues at hand, instead leaving the audience to believe that Mae could suddenly embrace a reformed nature. Although not the finest example of the genre, the film’s central themes hit all the right notes.

Like many noirs before it, Clash by Night features a fundamentally decent man in Jerry, showing how a wayward femme fatale could lead him astray. The themes of betrayal and loss of power result in an uncomfortable tension simmering just beneath the surface so that, even without the criminal element, the film is justifiably classified as film noir.

FINAL GRADE: B

Film Noir Series: The Set-Up (1949)

Robert Ryan as Stoker Thompson

My latest Film Noir Spotlight entry for Next Projection. The sixth film on my list is The Set-Up (1949).

Before there was Raging Bull, there was The Set-Up, Robert Wise’s brutally devastating glimpse into one night in the life of an aging, struggling boxer. It’s no great surprise, then, to hear Martin Scorsese waxing poetic about the influential merit of the film on the DVD’s commentary track. The Set-Up is a potent noir classic; a gritty documentary-type film made well before such a style even existed.

Right from the opening frame, it sets itself apart from other Hollywood releases in the late-1940s. Devoid of any soundtrack, the opening credits pan over a brutal fight in a boxing ring – a perverse, violent “dance” that only ends when one man is finally knocked out, to the crowd’s roaring approval. Robert Wise, a director often associated with his upscale musicals like West Side Story (1961) and The Sound of Music (1965), zeros in on the sights and sounds of a boxing match to recreate an authentic atmosphere.

Based on a Joseph Moncure March poem (which, in actuality, had a black ex-convict at the heart of its narrative, not a white boxer), The Set-Up moves along briskly in real time. At 35 years of age, Bill ‘Stoker’ Thompson (Robert Ryan) is considered “over-the-hill” by the bloodthirsty mobs that flock to the sweat-drenched boxing matches at the Paradise City arena. His own manager (George Tobias) is so sure that Stoker will go down in his match that he takes “dive” money from a gambler who goes by the pseudonym Little Boy (Alan Baxter) – and neglects to inform Stoker. Despite desperate pleas from his wife, Julie (Audrey Totter), to retire, Stoker insists he has one more big fight left in him.

The film unfurls slowly, gradually familiarizing the audience with Stoker as he prepares for his duel in the ring against a much younger opponent. With its revolving door of compelling secondary characters, all of whom offer their own personal tales of woe and victory, The Set-Up is a stripped down tale of the physical and psychological struggles of men like Stoker. All the boxers in the room are big dreamers although, judging from their anxious chatter, they are all too aware that their one-time shot at fame is fleeting.

Lensed by cameraman Milton Krasner, you can practically smell the stale air and feel each punch thrown. Alternating between intimately brutal, bloody close-ups and jarring wide shots, the fight scenes demonstrate both stunning choreography on the part of the actors and superior camerawork by the crew. Like gladiators in the Coliseum, the men in the ring are modern day warriors, complete with a powerful fan base that can be heard screaming and stomping from their dressing room. The crowd is comprised of those who place the bets and those who just love a bloody exhibition – like the blind man who has his friend narrate the fight sequences and the housewife who embarrasses her husband by screaming obscenities in her quest for more blood.

With his weathered features – complete with cauliflower ears, five o’clock shadow and upper lip sweat – Ryan breathes life into the role of Stoker. Considering his years as a boxer in college prior to acting, Ryan is a natural, carrying himself like a battered, yet determined, athlete. Looking as though he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, Ryan gives a remarkable performance. His Stoker is one of the finest incarnations of a struggling athlete in film. His scenes with Audrey Totter as his wife, Julie, are particularly compelling, adding depth to both of their characterizations.

The Set-Up remains a startlingly raw slice-of-life narrative that more than earns its place as an influential noir classic. It balances a superbly crafted story with exquisitely choreographed fight sequences, all of which is anchored by an understated, naturalistic performance from Robert Ryan. It’s a knockout.

FINAL GRADE: A+

Film Noir Series: Crossfire (1947)

I'm continuing my ongoing Film Noir series on Next Projection. You can check out my post HERE. The fourth film on my list is Crossfire (1947).

With its tightly coiled narrative and top-notch cast, Crossfire is a slow-burning crime drama and unlikely “social message film” with a noir twist.

Based on the controversial Richard Brooks novel The Brick Foxhole, screenwriter John Paxton re-teamed with director Edward Dymtryk after the success of their 1944 noir classic, Murder, My Sweet. This time around religious bigotry takes centre stage, as intolerance is unearthed among a group of soldiers recently returned from the Second World War.

Set in Washington, D.C., this band of brothers bond over hard liquor and poker games at various bars while swapping war stories. After one particular night of heavy drinking, three of the men wind up at the apartment of Joseph Samuels (Sam Levene), a Jewish man they met in a bar. Samuels openly shares his thoughts on what he perceives to be the true hidden enemy to a soldier recently returned from battle – pent up and unfocused negative energy that comes when there is no longer a clear enemy to kill. When Samuels winds up dead, the three soldiers become prime suspects in the homicide investigation led by Detective Finlay (Robert Young) and Army Sergeant Keeley (Robert Mitchum).

Postwar angst is often an underlying theme in the majority of noir films. However, few have dealt with it as directly as the Oscar-nominated Crossfire. Its chock full of aimless soldiers suffering from misguided anger. Despite Dymtryk and Paxton’s decision to change the victim from a homosexual in Brooks’ novel to a middle-aged Jewish man in the film, the theme of intolerance still resonates.

Gloria Grahame as Ginny.

Crossfire opens with a violent exchange between two men – one the gracious Samuels, the other one of the soldiers. However, all that is seen are shadows on a wall. Enter Detective Finlay with his soft drawl, ever-present pipe and immaculate suit. Finlay, in his hunt for a motive, is one of the calmest screen incarnations of a homicide detective to ever grace the silver screen. Whether he’s lounging in a high-backed chair or slowly walking the perimeter a crime scene, Young instills Finlay with an ice-cold demeanor, all the better to interrogate with.

Along for the ride in this compelling ‘whodunit’ is a brash soldier named Montgomery (Robert Ryan) and a sultry, exotically beautiful nightclub singer named Ginny (Gloria Grahame). Ryan is captivating as the blustering bully Montgomery, nearly stealing the show from both Young and Mitchum. As the jaded Ginny, Grahame more than earns her Best Supporting Actress nomination in her two brief scenes. Strong-willed and fiery, Ginny is the standard femme – albeit with much less fatale than is common in the genre. You can tell that, beneath her cool indifference, she’s a kind woman at heart.

The uncharacteristically slow narrative carefully unfurls character motivations, wading through each character’s conflicting flashback accounts in order to crack the case. When the truth is finally revealed to Finlay it sets off a three-minute speech addressing anti-Semitism and anti-Irish Catholic stances in America. The scene hammers home the overall message, coming off a little too preachy, almost as though it thought the audience wouldn’t be able to comprehend the notion of religious intolerance without its being sermonized. The one thing that pulls this scene back from outright melodrama is Young’s strong performance.

Despite this heavy-handed conclusion and its eventual exoneration of the military’s role in the murder,Crossfire is a surprisingly bold noir, tackling an issue that touched a raw nerve with audiences.

FINAL GRADE: A-