Life and Death in L.A.: crimefilms
Showing posts with label crimefilms. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crimefilms. Show all posts

Thursday, October 19, 2023

‘Hollering Hank,’ A Director of Noble Lineage, Turned Out Landmark Semi-Documentary Crime Dramas That Capture the Unease of Post-World War II America

Lucille Ball, Mark Stevens, "The Dark Corner" (1946). 

Director Henry Hathaway is probably best known for the westerns he made with legendary stars, including John Wayne, Gary Cooper, Randolph Scott, Richard Widmark and Henry Fonda, among others. But his semi-documentary, noir-tinged crime films of the 1940s-‘50s should have earned him a more prominent place among noir’s noted directors. 

In addition to westerns, his varied body of work includes adventure stories, war pictures and action films, and perhaps because of this he was often dismissed as a talented journeyman, not an “important” filmmaker. He worked at Paramount and then at 20th Century Fox and was seen as a company man rather than an innovative firebrand.

But his work continues to find receptive audiences and in recent times his reputation has been burnished. 

Film Noir Foundation founder Eddie Muller says that Hathaway is underrated as a director. 

“He gets lost in the shuffle because he’s not a myth-maker like (John) Ford or (Howard) Hawks,” Muller said. “He’s a craftsman and adapts to the material. He doesn’t have a signature style. In the ’50s, he became the poor man’s Anthony Mann.” 

Shell-shocked actors found that on-set tension rivaled the tribulations of the tormented characters they played

While his peers may not have have regarded him as a trail-blazer, Hathaway was infamous for his red hot temper. Nicknamed “Hollering Hank,” he was known for his despotic behavior on the set.

Lucille Ball said she hated shooting "The Dark Corner,” mostly due to Hathaway’s bullying, which caused her to stutter when trying to recite her dialog. Hathaway accused her of being drunk (more about this below).

Dennis Hopper said that Hathaway blackballed him in the industry after “The Sons of Katie Elder” — yet Hathaway later hired him for “True Grit.” Over dinner at Telluride, Hathaway’s elegant wife, Skip, asked mischievously, “You do know Henry’s a bastard, don’t you?” 

Still, some got along famously with him. Signe Hasso, who starred in “The House on 92nd Street,” adored him, just as she did another tough Hollywood pioneer, Cecil B. DeMille.

Despite his tendency to upset casts and crews, the irascible director was unapologetic about his on-set outbursts.

“You have to have discipline,” Hathaway asserted near the end of his life. “It's like a father with a big family. What do you do if a kid gets out of line? You've got to whip him or pretty soon all the kids are wild. Well, making a picture involves a mighty big family, and there's a lot of money involved, so I don't let things get very far out of line.”

Royalty In His Blood

There are probably a number of factors at the root of Hathaway’s testy, monarchal behavior, and chief among them could be his family lineage.

Henry Hathaway was born Henri LĂ©opold de Fiennes, in Sacramento, Calif. His title of marquis was inherited from his paternal grandfather, a Belgian nobleman in service to King Leopold I of Belgium.

Hathaway's father, Rhoady, became a theatrical manager and married Hathaway’s mother, a Hungarian-born Belgian of aristocratic ancestry, born the Marquise Lillie de Fiennes, who acted under her maiden name Jean Hathaway. 

A Rising Star

With two parents in show business, it’s no wonder that Hathaway was drawn to the film industry early in life. He was hired as a child actor in 1908 by the American Film Co., where he became a protege of director Allan Dwan. When Dwan became the first recipient of the Los Angeles Film Critics Assn.’s Career Achievement Award, Hathaway recalled sitting on Dwan’s knee. 

Working his way up the ranks, he became an assistant director in 1919, most notably with Victor Fleming (another Dwan protege), Josef Von Sternberg, William K. Howard and Frank Lloyd. By 1932, he had become a full-fledged director of Westerns and by 1936 had directed “The Trail of the Lonesome Pine,” the first big-budget Western in three-strip Technicolor.

However, his crime films were shot in black and white, with one notable exception. Here’s a sampling of his work:

Tyrone Power, "Johnny Apollo" (1940).

Johnny Apollo” (1940)

Bob Cain (Tyrone Power) falls for gangster moll 'Lucky' Dubarry" (Dorothy Lamour) and throws in with some rough characters all in the name of getting his Pop paroled from the big joint. But he finds that making a deal with the D.A. is tougher than he bargained for.

Bob, the son of a wealthy and respected judge, hits the skids when he is wrongfully convicted of a crime and sent to prison. Inside the prison, he becomes acquainted with charismatic and ruthless gangster Mickey Dwyer (Edward Arnold). Along the way, Bob adopts the alias Johnny Apollo and transforms from a law-abiding citizen to a criminal under Dwyer's influence.

One of the key themes explored in "Johnny Apollo" is the concept of morality and how one's circumstances can influence their choices. The film explores the idea that people are not simply good or bad, but a combination of both and are shaped by their environment and experiences. This is evident in Bob/Johnny’s evolution from an upright young man to a criminal mastermind when he’s influenced by the corrupting power of money and the allure of quick success.

Power's performance as Johnny Apollo shows us the internal conflict and moral dilemma that the character faces. Dwyer, the antagonist who represents the darker aspects of society, is like a magnetic field that pulls Johnny into his orbit. The film comments on the economic hardships faced by many Americans during the Great Depression, portraying the desperation and temptation that can lead individuals down a path of crime as they seek financial security and success.

In true noir fashion, cinematographer Arthur C. Miller uses shadow and light to define the contrasting worlds of Johnny's upper-class upbringing and the gritty, harsh reality of prison, while highlighting the moral ambiguities that define Johnny’s actions.

Hathaway's keen eye for composition and visual storytelling is evident throughout "Johnny Apollo." His use of framing and camera movement adds depth and layers to the narrative. We see the stark contrast between Johnny's life before and after prison, which is visually emphasized by the use of framing: the spacious, well-lit rooms of Johnny's home give way to the tight, dimly lit penitentiary cells. The stark shift in Johnny's circumstances define his character and help us better understand his circuitous route to redemption.

Leo G. Carroll, Signe Hasso, "The House on 92nd Street" (1945).

The House on 92nd Street” (1945)

Nazi agents have set up housekeeping in Manhattan as World War II enters its final months and spies are after atomic bomb secrets. A double agent infiltrates the spy network to bust the covert ring wide open. Hathaway takes pains to give the film an authentic feel. Scenes are shot at locations where the real story took place. 

Actual FBI agents play small roles and real surveillance footage of the German embassy is included in the film, as is newsreel footage of FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover at his desk shuffling important looking documents. 

Hathaway conveys tension at nearly every turn. We watch in fear that the double agent, once inside the belly of the beast, will be discovered. Then there’s the matter of the atomic secrets that could land in Nazi hands. In hindsight we see what was at stake, but in the mid-1940s with the war still on, few realized the threat that was taking shape. The film’s script  had to be revised to stay abreast of historic events.  


While making the film, neither the actors nor Hathaway were aware of the atomic bomb’s existence


The movie was released on Sept. 10, 1945, just a month after the bomb was dropped on Japan, and barely a week after Japan's formal surrender. While making the film, neither the actors nor Hathaway were aware of the atomic bomb’s existence, and they didn’t know that the nuclear bomb would become part of the story. None of the actors’ dialog includes any mention the bomb. 

But co-director and producer Louis De Rochemont, who produced the "March of Time" newsreel films, and narrator Reed Hadley played a role in producing government films on the development of the atomic bomb. After the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Hadley and screenwriter John Monks Jr. quickly wrote voiceover narration linking the fictional "Process 97,” the film’s McGuffin, to the atomic bomb, and Rochemont inserted it into the picture in time for the film's quick release.

Mark Stevens, Lucille Ball, "The Dark Corner" (1946).

The Dark Corner” (1946)

In noir, aesthetes are usually single-minded monsters who have a higher regard for art and precious objects than they do for human life. They are of the monied class and their self-indulgent obsessions lead toward acts of moral depravity. Such is the case with art dealer Hardy Cathcart (Clifton Webb), who not only values beautiful objets d’arte but jealously watches over his straying trophy wife Mari (Cathy Downs). He sparks a chain of events that put private eye Bradford Galt (Mark Stevens) on the spot. 

Galt’s sweet and wholesome secretary Kathleen Stewart (Lucille Ball) falls head over heels for her boss, but it’s never clear why she’s smitten with the down-on-his-luck private dick. The icy barrier she puts up to keep him at a distance begins to thaw when she learns he was framed for manslaughter and did a two year stretch in the pen. No matter, the ravishingly photographed story moves along at a fast enough clip to make us skip over any momentary lapses in logic. 

Ball plays the working class gal that Shelly Winters mastered, although Winters would offer a more complex touch of larcenous vulnerability to her characters. Mark Stevens is in the kind of role that Dana Andrews would play — an upright man steadfastly pursuing the dark figures who are trying to pull his strings. 

A flop at the box office, the film deserved a better reception. Hathaway himself was critical of Lucille Ball and critical of the film. At the time, Ball was trying to break from MGM and had an "unsettled" personal life. 

Hathaway biographer Polly Platt wrote: "Early into the shoot, it was obvious to Hathaway that Ball was not concentrating on her job. After she flubbed her lines one time too many, Hathaway embarrassed her before her peers by ordering her to leave the set and actually read the script." However, some regarded the role as one of Ball's finer dramatic performances.

While Hathaway didn’t think highly of the film, New York Times film critic Thomas M. Pryor called “The Dark Corner” "tough-fibered, exciting entertainment.”

Brian Donlevy, Richard Widmark, Victor Mature,
"Kiss of Death" (1947).

Kiss of Death” (1947)

Nick Bianco (Victor Mature) helps another couple of mugs rob a swanky jewelry store located high up in a New York skyscraper and is thwarted by slow elevator service. He lands in prison and his personal life comes apart.

A woman’s voiceover narration guides us into the story — is it the voice of Nick’s wife, we wonder? But Nick’s wife dies while he’s doing hard time, and it turns out the voice we hear is that of Nettie Cavallo (Coleen Gray), a woman who helped care for Nick and his wife’s two small daughters. We don’t know whether or not Nick will come out alive after the ordeal he’s about to face comes to pass, but it’s clear that there will be at least three people waiting for him to return safely. 

At heart, Nick is a family man who takes missteps because as an ex-con he can’t catch a break. When Nick finally chooses domestic bliss over the thug life, he must reject the criminal code of silence and become an informer. From that point on he’s in danger and so is his family.

Mature plays the hapless Nick with self assurance and simmering outrage over the way he’s been persecuted for his past crimes. He’s aware of his faults, but feels forced to take drastic measures to support his daughters.

Like other Hathaway films, “Kiss of Death” is shot at spots where a true story took place. In this case it’s the New York locations where prosecutor Eleazar Lipsky tried cases. Lipsky, under the pen name Lawrence Blaine, wrote the 100 page manuscript on which the film is based and 20th Century Fox purchased the story as a vehicle for Mature. 

While inspired in part by Lipsky’s prosecutorial experiences, the story is largely fictional. Still, Hathaway’s documentarian touches, such as use of actual locations and voiceover narration, the film feels less documentary-like than other Hathaway films. 

 

As delinquent psychopaths go, Tommy Udo is the unabashed supreme leader in his field


“Kiss of Death” is notable for being Richard Widmark's film debut. He plays arch criminal Tommy Udo, a role originally announced for Richard Conte. Hathaway was looking for someone to play the part when he was asked to test Widmark for the role. 

“Hathaway didn’t want me,” Widmark remembered, and apparently, it was because his forehead made him look “too intellectual.” 

But studio head Darryl Zanuck overrode Hathaway's preference for Conte and Widmark won the role. As first acting gigs go, this one was a Lulu, and as delinquent psychopaths go, Udo is the unabashed supreme leader in his field.

His most gruesome on-camera moment comes when Udo pushes a wheelchair-bound elderly woman down a flight of stairs to her death. Hathaway said the idea for the wheelchair scene came from co-screenwriter Ben Hecht. He wanted Udo to be a "hophead" because "they're so unpredictable. They'll shoot you or stab you, they'll do anything."

Patricia Morison played Nick's wife but her scenes were cut. The original script had her commit suicide by putting her head in a gas stove, and prior to that she is raped. Censors put the kibosh on both scenes. Morison’s name is listed in the credits but she doesn't appear in the final cut. 

James Stewart, "Call Northside 777" (1948).

Call Northside 777” (1948)

Based on a real-life murder that led to a wrongful conviction in 1933, the movie stars James Stewart as a reporter who revives a cold case and tries to prove a man imprisoned on a murder conviction is innocent.  

“The assumption was that the city of Chicago bungled the prosecution because it was busy with the World’s Fair,” author, film historian and Film Noir Foundation board member Alan K. Rode said. “They blew this case. It was topical and perfect grist for (Fox chief Darryl F.) Zanuck.” 

“Call Northside 777” (1948) is a fictionalized account of the true story of Joseph Majczek, who was wrongly convicted of the murder of a Chicago policeman in 1932. 

In the film, crusading reporter P.J. McNeal (James Stewart) risks his life to prove Majczek's innocence — Majczek is renamed Frank Wiecek in the film and is played by Richard Conte. McNeal is at first reluctant to pursue the story because he believes that the convicted man probably is a cop killer. But his boss, Chicago Times city editor Brian Kelly (Lee J. Cobb), prods the skeptical McNeal to dig deeper into the case. 

After chasing down down witnesses and attempting to interview uncooperative police officials, McNeal becomes convinced that the wrong man was imprisoned, and so begins his crusade to undo the injustices suffered by an innocent victim.

As he did in “The House on 92nd Street,” Hathaway employs his trademark documentary-style in the opening scenes. With great attention to detail, he shot at or near sites where the true events took place. A side note: the film is credited with being among the first to include the use of a fax machine, cutting edge technology at the time, which plays an important role in the plot.

The real-life events that inspired the film began on Dec. 9, 1932, when Officer William Lundy was shot and killed during a robbery at a delicatessen in Chicago. Two men, Joseph Majczek and Ted Marcinkiewicz, were arrested and convicted of the murder. However, there was significant evidence that pointed to their innocence, including eyewitness testimony that placed them elsewhere at the time of the crime.

Majczek's mother, Tillie, was convinced of her son's innocence and spent years trying to clear his name. In 1944, she placed a classified ad in the Chicago Times offering a $5,000 reward for information about the real killers. The ad caught the attention of Times reporter J. Watson Webb Jr., who began investigating the case and soon uncovered evidence that Majczek and Marcinkiewicz were innocent.

Webb's investigation led to the reopening of the case and in 1946 Majczek and Marcinkiewicz were exonerated. The real-life P.J. McNeal was a major factor in their release, and he was even present in the courtroom when they were finally declared innocent.

“Call Northside 777” was a critical and commercial success and it helped raise awareness of wrongful convictions. The film also earned James Stewart an Academy Award nomination for Best Actor.

Marilyn Monroe, Jean Peters, Max Showalter, "Niagara" (1953).

Niagara” (1955)

Honeymooners Ray and Polly Cutler (Jean Peters) (Max Showalter) run into the tormented Loomises, Rose (Marilyn Monroe) and George (Joseph Cotten), at Niagara Falls, and as tensions between the bickering couple escalate to the breaking point, the Falls begins to look like an all too inviting place to ditch a body.

The film, in brilliant Technicolor and set against a stunning backdrop, masterfully combines elements of suspense, sensuality and psychological tension.

The majestic scenery serves as more than a mere backdrop — it’s a character in its own right. Hathaway and cinematographer Joseph MacDonald capture the falls in all their grandeur, using wide shots to emphasize their overpowering beauty. However, Hathaway contrasts this natural splendor with a dark and sinister undercurrent that runs through the film, symbolized by the treacherous currents beneath the falls. 

Furthermore, Hathaway's direction of the actors in "Niagara" is exceptional. Marilyn Monroe, in one of her early leading roles, delivers a performance that encapsulates both her sensuality and vulnerability. Hathaway's direction brings out the complexity of her character, Rose, a seductive yet troubled woman, and allows Monroe to showcase her range as an actress. Similarly, Joseph Cotten's portrayal of her husband, George, is a testament to Hathaway's ability to elicit nuanced performances from his cast. George's descent into jealousy and paranoia is palpably depicted, creating a sense of psychological tension that pervades the film.

The pacing and suspenseful elements of "Niagara" are a reflection of Hathaway's directorial prowess. He maintains a sense of tension throughout the film, building suspense as George's delusions intensify, and his actions become increasingly unpredictable. Hathaway's meticulous control of the narrative allows the audience to feel the looming threat and the impending danger.

Hathaway's collaboration with the composer Sol Kaplan is also noteworthy. The film's musical score enhances the tension and emotion, complementing Hathaway's direction and the performances of the cast. The music becomes an integral part of the film's atmosphere, further immersing the audience in the story.

In its review of “Niagara, the Hollywood Reporter praised the director, saying “Hathaway draws splendid performances from his cast and maintains a taut, spicy tempo that grips the attention consistently.” 

For a director known for his irascibility, Hathaway gave Marilyn high praise: “She never had any confidence, never sure she was a good actress,” he said. “The tragedy was that she was never allowed to be. But she was the best natural actress I ever directed.” 

 

Thursday, December 29, 2022

Casual Malice: Ascots in Crime Films

Humphrey Bogart, Gina Lollobrigida, 'Beat the Devil' (1953).

What’s in an ascot, you ask? Quite a lot, actually. The loosely tied neckwear that’s tucked inside an open-collared shirt (for hardcore cases, tucked into a smoking jacket) says a lot about the character wearing it. 

Choosing an ascot is a ticklish matter. It can make you appear rakish, roguish and maybe sleazy. It sometimes adds a whiff of foreign intrigue — or at least that’s what the wearer might like you to think. At worst, it’s a bum fashion choice made by a square trying to look like a swinger.

In films, ascots are often worn by slick operators, gigolos, the idle rich and a few crime fighters. Here’s an assortment of the sporty characters and misfits who wear them. 

Robert Walker
Bruno Antony (Robert Walker) “Strangers on a Train” (1951)
Bruno is a confused fellow who mistakenly thinks he’s made a murderous pact with pro tennis player Guy Haynes (Farley Granger). A man of leisure who sponges off his wealthy parents, Bruno has lots of time to dream up fantastical, dangerous schemes. His lounging attire: a dandyish ascot and smoking jacket robe. We’d expect nothing less from him.

Leo G. Carroll, Ruth Roman,
Patricia Hitchcock.
Senator Morton (Leo G. Carroll) “Strangers on a Train” (1951)
For some reason U.S. Senator Morton speaks with a British accent — or is that an Ivy League mid-Atlantic brogue? He wears a robe and ascot to an impromptu late-night family conference because, we assume, that’s the way posh dads dress in Washington, D.C. 

Gina Lollobrigida, Humphrey Bogart.
Billy Dannreuther (Humphrey Bogart) “Beat the Devil” (1953)
Billy is an American traveling overseas with a motley group of cutthroat business associates. At ease on the European continent, he dresses like the locals — his jacket and ascot give him an unstudied, casual air. He’s the antithesis of the ugly American even if some of his travel companions are the scum of the earth.

John Cazale
Fredo Corleone (John Cazale) “The Godfather II” (1974)
The Corleone family shunted their second eldest son Fredo off to Las Vegas to keep him out of harm’s way. Now under the dubious tutelage of casino boss Moe Greene (Alex Rocco), Fredo dresses like a strip club barker and an ascot does little to improve his image. A hipster he’s not.

Al Pacino
Michael Corleone (Al Pacino) “The Godfather II” (1974)
Unlike his brother Fredo, Michael seems relaxed and stylish in an ascot. But, despite his unflappable appearance he's a man who is never fully at ease. Ever on guard, he watches for the next foe to make his move. All the while he’s dressed impeccably.



Edward Fox
The Jackal (Edward Fox) “The Day of the Jackal” (1973)
A hired assassin known as “The Jackal” is every bit the steely killer that his moniker implies. He’s the picture of cool as he attempts to assassinate French President Charles de Gaulle. The ascot affords him a suave, relaxed look that allows him to blend into his environment. But there’s nothing casual about the Jackal — he’s all business.


Cary Grant

John Robie (Cary Grant) “To Catch a Thief” (1955)
Let’s say you’re a retired jewel thief luxuriating on the French Riviera. You’re obviously going to wear an ascot, as does ex-cat burglar John Robie — it’s practically mandated by law. Someone is pilfering expensive trinkets from the fabulously wealthy and the gendarmes think that Robie’s the one behind it all. He’s got to corner the real burglar to prove that his hands are clean. In the meantime, he’s busy romancing Grace Kelly, as retired jewel thieves do. 

Jeroen Krabbe

Gen. Georgi Koskov (Jeroen Krabbe) “The Living Daylights” (1987)
Renegade Soviet Gen. Koskov tries to manipulate the British into assassinating his rival, Gen. Pushkin. Yes, this is a spy story, not a crime film. But let’s remember it’s not just any spy flick, it’s a Bond movie — albeit one that was chosen at random. It belongs to a film dynasty with a decades-long relationship with the ascot. It would be unseemly to ignore that connection.  

Terry-Thomas

Billy Gordon (Terry-Thomas) “Too Many Crooks” (1959)
Billy’s wife is kidnapped by bumbling hoodlums and they’re holding her for ransom. No dice. He’s been carrying on with his secretary and would be delighted to have wifey vanish permanently. His red and white polka-dotted ascot is practically the international banner of rakes worldwide and he wears it with pride.

Roddy McDowall

Rex Brewster (Roddy McDowall) “Evil Under the Sun” (1982)
Writer Rex Brewster finds himself smack dab in the middle of a murder mystery. The deceased woman refused to sign a release document, which tripped up Rex’s plans to publish a tell-all biography of her life. Is he the lout who felled the quarrelsome lady? Beware, Rex sports a red and white polka-dotted ascot. Say no more.

Michel Piccoli

Jacques Granville (Michel Piccoli), “Topaz” (1969)
Spy ring leader Jacques Granville (yes, it’s another spy movie) is the picture of urbane sophistication in his ascot and crimson smoking jacket. The Cuban Missile Crisis unfolds as Westerners scramble to gather evidence of Soviet nuclear missiles positioned on the Caribbean island just south of Key West. Meanwhile, Granville lights up an excellent Cuban cigar. The fate of Western civilization may hang in the balance, but those concerns should never interrupt the enjoyment of a good smoke.

Gene Barry

Capt. Amos Burke (Gene Barry) “Burke’s Law” (1963-’66, ABC-TV)
Suave, sophisticated Amos Burke is a multi-millionaire who lives in a mansion and is chauffeured around in a Rolls Royce limousine. Somehow, he’s also an L.A. homicide detective who solves a tricky murder case each week. After a challenging day of rounding up killers he relaxes at home, as do most lawmen, with a pitcher of martinis and wearing immaculately tailored suits that are often complemented by an ascot.

Joan Crawford, Jack Palance

Lester Blaine (Jack Palance) “Sudden Fear” (1952)
Lester, a classic noir cad, is an unsuccessful actor who gloms onto noted playwright Myra Hudson (Joan Crawford). They get hitched, but Lester and longtime lover Irene Neves (Gloria Grahame) cook up a dark plan for Myra. However, Myra has a few ideas of her own. Lester’s neckwear marks him as a smoothie, but Myra will prove a challenging match for him.

Conclusion
If you yearn to get ahead in a field such as burglary, casino management, law enforcement or espionage consider wearing an ascot. It could help pave the way to a new, exciting career.