When Noir Got Into the True Crime Game — Docudramas: How True Were They?

Ted de Corsia, "The Naked City" (1948) — just one of the 8 million stories.

By Paul Parcellin

Maybe it was the rigors of World War II that whet the public’s appetite for true crime stories in the 1940s. Returning soldiers, who saw real blood and guts on the battlefield, were less than inspired by movies based on fictional stories, or so the legend goes. They wanted a realistic view of life that matched the bleakness of their combat experiences and the changing peacetime world. 

Movie audiences, accustomed to the realism of wartime newsreels, liked the immediacy and authenticity of short films featuring real troops engaged in combat and other current events. 

At home, urban crime was on the rise and cities were deteriorating. The spate of semi-documentaries, which at first glance appeared to be as credible as legitimate news sources, validated the public’s worst fears about the decline of urban life while usually offering an upbeat message of hope.

Some of the films of that era that mimicked the look of documentaries include “The House on 92nd Street” (1945), “Boomerang!” (1947), “T-Men” (1947), “Highway 301” (1950) and “The Hitch-Hiker” (1953), to name just a handful. 

Some were merely inspired by true events while others stuck closer to the facts. Often, they were composites of different true cases blended into a single storyline. Most featured voice over narration in some form and they sometimes shot scenes in the exact locations where the real events took place. 

Tom Pedi, Nicholas Joy, Barry Fitzgerald,
David Opatoshu, Howard Duff at police headquarters.

One such composite movie is “The Naked City” (1948), the film that inspired a successful TV series, “Naked City” from 1958 to 1963. In the film, Barry Fitzgerald plays Det. Lt. Dan Muldoon, lead investigator of a homicide division. Short in stature (for a homicide lieutenant, that is; TV’s Columbo being perhaps his lone peer), his eyes gleam with excitement when a clue is unearthed in the case dubbed the Bathtub Murder. His Irish brogue and ironically sharp repartee that accents each scene he’s in is the voice of a Gaelic storyteller more so than that of the jaded New York City cop we’ve seen so many times. In fact, his upbeat manner belies the fact that he’s investigating a hideous crime, the drugging and deliberate drowning of a young woman. 

As the investigation wears on and leads begin to fizzle he’s undeterred and pursues promising angles with zest. It’s as if he has an unshakeable confidence that the perpetrators are bound to fall out of one of the trees he’s shaking. His self-assuredness and lack of cynicism is hard to figure considering the tough environment he’s in and the hardened criminals he’s after.

His counterpart, the young, green homicide detective Jimmy Halloran (Don Taylor) is assigned every shoe leather task that needs doing. He’s resigned himself to a life of diving into haystacks in search of elusive needles, for the time being, anyway. Theirs is a dynamic we’ve seen replayed in countless films and TV shows, but back then it must have had a fresher feel.

Robert H. Harris, Don Taylor as Det. Jimmy Halloran,
doing his shoe leather work.

If you’d guess that the rookie will eventually face off against the story’s arch villain, Willie Garzah (Ted de Corsia), the baddest of bad guys  (at one point, Garzah shoots a blind man’s guide dog), you’d be right. Garzah will outsmart and trap the young detective, putting his life in jeopardy while jacking up the tension in the film’s final moments. It’s, of course, a manipulative  and probably fictional device, but we’re glad to go along for the ride. In fact, it’s one of the film’s more effective sequences.

Voiceover narration by the film’s producer Mark Hellinger, the stuff of documentary-style storytelling, works sometimes. But too often he reaches for comic relief and stumbles, and just plain talks too much. Never mind, the movie looks great and proceeds at a fast enough clip.

Arthur Fellig, A.K.A. Weegee

The title is borrowed from the book by tabloid news photographer Arthur Fellig, better known as Weegee, who, from the 1920s to the ’60s, prowled New York City streets by night and snapped thousands of crime pictures, including the aftermath of many a murder (he also has a cameo in the film). 

Obviously, director Jules Dassin wanted the film to deliver the grubby truth as seen in the lurid photos and screaming headlines of tabloid journalism. We occasionally see visual touches that remind us of Weegee’s work, such as kids cooling off in the spray of an open hydrant. We also get a touch of his signature gallows humor when other youngsters dive off the East River dock only to find a corpse afloat there — innocence of youth, meet the grim reality of big city criminal culture.

Retaining the Weegee aesthetic, the film’s lensman, William Daniels, captures New York City’s tight, claustrophobic niches as well as its sweeping skyline and the odd vignettes of ordinary folks on the street in mock cinema verite fashion. 

A master of black and white photography, Daniels shot 21 films starring Greta Garbo between 1926 and 1939, including “Mata Hari” (1931), “Grand Hotel” (1932), “Queen Christina” (1933), “Anna Karenina” (1935), “Camille” (1936) and “Ninotchka” (1939). In “The Naked City” he somehow makes the gritty urban landscape of 1940s Manhattan lushly beautiful, transforming the grimy sprawl of Manhattan’s underside into a character in its own right. Had the producer dropped a good deal of the film’s voice over and simply let the pictures tell the story the film would be stronger for it. 

Voice over doesn’t get in the way of actors’ performances so much. The film presents Garzah, for instance, as a criminal without redeeming qualities. He places little value on human life and would just as soon pull a trigger or pitch a drunken man into the drink when he feels threatened. His ethos of survival at any cost comes to a head at the film’s climax, being chased by the cops he climbs the Williamsburg Bridge’s steel supporting structure. It’s a setup for the cinematic takedown of a big man, a la James Cagney’s fireball of a final scene in “White Heat” (1949), when the hunter becomes the prey and the prey gets flambéed. Garzah’s end is a good deal less flamboyant, however.  

Ted de Corsia as Garzah
on the Williamsburg Bridge.

It would be a stretch to shoehorn an action sequence like that into a film that’s supposed to be a documentary, of course. Here, it’s OK. It’s what puts the “semi” in semi-documentary. We’re never really sure where and when non-fiction morphs into fiction and vice-versa. We simply must enjoy the film for its entertainment value. Despite its use of documentary film’s look and feel it makes no promises about the reliability of the supposed facts it presents.   

What seems utterly credible, however, is the primitive crime fighting technology we see. Halloran, the man in the field, needs to find a pay phone to call the precinct with critical information about the man he’s tracking down. The desperately inadequate communications system he’s got to work with is responsible for a disconnect that puts the young law officer in trouble. Before attempting to singlehandedly bust the bad guy, Halloran leaves a phone message — yes, a phone message — for Muldoon who is out of the office. The police department desk jockey almost forgets to pass the crucial information on to the lieutenant, so when the junior detective lands in hot water there’s no cavalry there to pull him out. 

Things eventually work out, but that caused me consider this: In pre-cell phone days, screenwriters must have had an easier time whipping up dramatic tension. With tracking and cell phone towers, a law officer is probably less likely to become isolated and in jeopardy. How many plot twists can hinge on depleted batteries and lack of signal? A lot, apparently. Things were just simpler in the old days, but I digress.

As 1940s docudramas go, “The Naked City” is a solid piece of construction with a few creaky floorboards. See it on a big screen if you can — it’s a paean to a New York that has largely been lost to time. 

Ripped From the Headlines, Part III: True Stories About Dangerous Characters, Corrupt Officials and Gangs of Criminals Who Hold the Public at Bay

John Dall, Peggy Cummins, “Gun Crazy” (1950).

By Paul Parcellin

It only takes a couple of desperate, determined outsiders with a gun to start a crime wave. At times, a single perpetrator can do the work of two — or more. That’s what happens in several of the films based on true stories that make up this, the third and final part of the True Crime Noir series. Many more films could have been added to the roundup, and we may look at some of those at a later date. 

Included here, among bonafide noir fare, is a neo-noir. Some might say that the neo-noir movement/genre/style (or what have you) begins in the 1970s — to that sort of hair splitting I say, “Balderdash!” A film’s mood, story and message are the determining factors that tell us if it’s a noir, neo-noir, or something else. Therefore, the last film mentioned in this essay is decidedly noir despite its 1960s pedigree. Besides, it was shot in glorious black and white.

So, here is another handful of films based on true crimes. Some show how politics, corruption and unbridled malevolence conspire to unleash a wave of terror upon an unsuspecting public. And they often leave us with a picture that is unsettling, to say the least.

Some spoilers are scattered throughout, so you might want to see the films before reading the article. 

Peggy Cummins, John Dall, “Gun Crazy.”

“Gun Crazy” (1950)

The film “Gun Crazy” (1950) is not based on a single specific true story, but it is inspired by a number of real-life cases of couples who went on crime sprees.

One of the most famous cases is that of Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, who were active in the 1930s. The young couple robbed banks and other businesses, and became folk heroes to some. Director Arthur Penn made “Bonnie and Clyde” (1967), a hugely successful adaptation of the larcenous pair’s story that helped open the door to Hollywood’s golden age of the 1970s.

The case of Raymond Fernandez and Martha Beck, known as the "Lonely Hearts Killers" also inspired “Gun Crazy.” The pair met through a lonely hearts club, began a relationship and went on a crime spree, killing several victims. Their story was later made into the film, The Honeymoon Killers (1970).

“Gun Crazy” also draws inspiration from the life of George "Machine Gun" Kelly, a notorious gangster who was active in the 1930s. Kelly was known for his love of guns, and he was eventually arrested and convicted of murder. 

A cautionary tale, “Gun Crazy” warns against the dangers of all-consuming obsession. The trigger-happy Bart Tare (John Dall) and sideshow sharpshooter Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins) are both obsessed with firearms and are willing to do anything to get their hands on them. The doomed couple’s string of armed robberies leads them to commit murder, and finally, they come to a violent end.

The film is seen by some as a critique of American culture and the glorification of violence and guns. “Gun Crazy” is highly appreciated for the cinematic craft employed to make such an impressive and durable cinematic work that was shot for comparatively little money. One of the standout scenes is that of a holdup. Director Joseph H. Lewis positioned a camera in the back seat of the getaway car and shot a long take of the robbers making their escape. The creative camera placement influenced many directors. Quentin Tarantino has said that “Gun Crazy” is one of his favorite films and has cited it as an influence on his films “Reservoir Dogs” (1992) and “Pulp Fiction” (1994). Martin Scorsese has also cited “Gun Crazy” as an influence, and has said that he was inspired by the film's stylish cinematography and its depiction of violence.

Dana Andrews, “Boomerang!”

“Boomerang!” (1947)

“Boomerang!” is based on the true story of Harold Israel, a 20-year-old army veteran who was accused of the 1924 murder of a priest in Bridgeport, Conn. In the film, Assistant District Attorney Thomas B. Wade (Dana Andrews) is assigned to prosecute Israel, renamed John Waldron (Arthur Kennedy) in the film.

The real case began on the night of Feb. 25, 1924, when the Rev. Hubert Dahme, a popular parish priest, was shot and killed on a busy street corner in downtown Bridgeport. The police quickly arrested Israel, 22, who had a history of petty crime. He confessed to the murder, but later recanted, claiming that he had been coerced by the police.

The prosecution's case against Israel was circumstantial. There were no eyewitnesses to the murder, and the only physical evidence linking Israel to the crime was a gun that was found near the scene of the crime. However, the gun had not been fired, and there was no way to prove that it was the murder weapon. Israel’s confession came after a long police interview. The accused said he confessed because he wanted the grueling interrogation to end.

The defense argued that Israel was innocent and that he had been framed by the police. They pointed out that Israel had no motive for the murder, and that he had no history of violence.

Homer Cummings, state attorney for Fairfield County, said that the case against Israel looked perfect. But on May 27, 1924, just 15 weeks after authorities charged Israel, Cummings walked into a Bridgeport courtroom and shocked everyone present by declaring the murder charges against Israel would be dropped. Cummings, after meticulously reviewing the case against Israel, found it seriously flawed.

In the film, we see the machinations of corruption taking place behind the scenes. Those with political ambitions vigorously sought a conviction. One well-placed official involved in a crooked land deal is desperate to cover that up. A guilty verdict would ensure that the right people stay in power and shield him from prosecution.

Wishing to avoid negative publicity, Bridgeport, Conn., officials refused to let director Elia Kazan film in that city, where the crime took place. Instead, Stamford, Conn., stood in for Bridgeport. The film won two Academy Awards: Best Writing (Original Screenplay) for Richard Murphy and Best Supporting Actor for Karl Malden. 

Frank Lovejoy, William Talman, Edmond O'Brien, “The Hitch-Hiker.”

“The Hitch-Hiker” (1953)

In 1950, Billy Cook murdered a family of five and a traveling salesman, then kidnapped Deputy Sheriff Homer Waldrip from Blythe, Calif. Cook ordered his captive to drive deep into the desert, where he bound him with blanket strips and took his police cruiser, leaving Waldrip to die. Waldrip got loose, however, walked to the main road, and got a ride back to Blythe. Cook also took hostage two men who were on a hunting trip.

“The Hitch-Hiker” is based on that real-life murder spree. The film follows the story of two friends, Roy Collins (Edmond O'Brien) and Gilbert Bowen (Frank Lovejoy), who are on their way to Mexico for a fishing trip. They pick up a hitchhiker, Emmett Myers (William Talman), who turns out to be a dangerous psychopath. Myers forces the men to drive him to Mexico, and along the way, he murders a gas station attendant and a police officer.

The film, a suspenseful thriller, explores themes such as fear, paranoia, and the dark side of human nature. Ida Lupino, one of the few female directors working in Hollywood at the time, helmed this film and co-wrote the screenplay. She brought a unique perspective to the film, exploring the characters’ psychology and the dynamics of the relationship between the two friends.

“The Hitch-Hiker” was a critical and commercial success and it is considered one of the more thrilling and well-crafted noirs. Solid performances by O'Brien, Lovejoy, and Talman, as well as Lupino’s hard-hitting direction make it stand out in the pantheon of American noir.

The film is also notable for its realistic depiction of violence — the murders are graphic and disturbing, and they reflect the brutality of Cook's real-life crimes.

John Larch, Edward Andrews, “The Phenix City Story.”

"The Phenix City Story” (1955) 

True events surrounding the rampant corruption and organized crime that plagued Phenix City, Alabama, during the mid-20th century were inspiration for “The Phenix City Story.”

Set in the 1950s, the film paints a disquieting picture of a town beset by illegal gambling, prostitution, and political corruption. The story follows courageous local attorney Albert Patterson (John McIntire), who stands up to the powerful criminal syndicate that holds Phenix City in a hammerlock. Patterson's resolve to clean up the city and bring justice to the community drives the suspenseful narrative forward.

The real Phenix City was a den of corruption during this era. The town had earned a notorious reputation as a haven for criminal enterprises, attracting a range of illicit activities that were openly operated by the underworld. The film accurately captures the climate of fear and intimidation that pervaded the city, with citizens and officials alike living in constant danger.

The turning point in the true story, as depicted in the film, came with the assassination of Albert Patterson in 1954. His murder shocked the nation and galvanized public opinion against the criminal elements controlling Phenix City. Patterson's tragic death led to a massive outcry for reform and an end to the corruption that had plagued the town for years.

The subsequent events that unfolded closely mirror the events depicted in the film. The Alabama National Guard was brought in to restore order, and a determined effort was made to rout out and prosecute those responsible for the criminal activities. A series of trials resulted in numerous convictions, dealing a significant blow to the criminal syndicate.

Robert Blake, Scott Wilson, “In Cold Blood.”

“In Cold Blood” (1967)

“In Cold Blood” is a fictionalized account of the true story of the Clutter family murders, which took place in Holcomb, Kansas, in 1959. 

The film stars Robert Blake as Perry Smith and Scott Wilson as Richard "Dick" Hickock, two ex-convicts who rob and murder the Clutter family.

The real-life events that inspired the film began on Nov. 15, 1959, when Herb and Bonnie Clutter, their teenage daughter Nancy and their 15-year-old son Kenyon were found brutally murdered in their home. The Clutters had been shot and stabbed to death, and their bodies had been mutilated.

Hickock and Smith had been planning the robbery for months. They believed that the Clutters kept a large amount of cash in their home, and thought that the robbery would be easy. However, murder was not part of the plan. Hickock and Smith killed the Clutters in a fit of rage after they discovered that the family did not have as much money as they had thought.

The murderous duo were eventually arrested and convicted of the homicides. They were both sentenced to death and were executed in 1965.

The film's protagonist, Perry Smith, is a complex and troubled character who is struggling with his own demons. Although he comes off as a sympathetic character, he’s also capable of great violence. In time, we see what circumstances in their younger lives brought the two killers to their fate. We may not sympathize with them, but we understand how they came to follow such a destructive path. In the end, Smith says he wants to apologize for his crimes. Tragically, the victims are all deceased and there’s no one left to hear his words of contrition. 

“In Cold Blood” was praised for its realism and its psychological insights. It also helped raise awareness of issues surrounding crime and violence in America.

The Clutter family murders, one of the most notorious crimes in American history, were the subject of a best-selling non-fiction book by Truman Capote, who spent several years researching the case.

The Richard Brooks directed film was praised for its realism and insight into the killers’ psychological motivations. It serves as a disturbing reminder that those who are driven by their inner demons may be capable of committing acts of unspeakable horror.

You can also read Ripped From the Headlines Part I and Part II. 

Ripped From the Headlines: True Crimes Explode onto the Screen in Noir Movies

Barbara Stanwyck, Fred MacMurray, “Double Indemnity” (1944)

By Paul Parcellin

It’s no wonder that Hollywood in the 1940s and ’50s scooped up lurid true crime stories and made hard-hitting, gritty dramas out of them. Following the war, the public’s appetite for rough textured tales could not be surpassed. Cold, savage murders that bled off the front page of tabloid scandal sheets was the stuff that fueled screen dramas full of deceit, adultery and homicide — in other words, film noir. 

The pulse of noir is driven by morally complex characters who land in deep existential trouble sometimes by accident, other times due to hubris and their own unsavory choices. The line between truth and fiction is not always cut and dried in fact-based noir. But the characters who inhabit the real world often have a lot in common with classic noir anti-heroes. Both live in a shadowy world of crime, mystery and ethical ambiguity. Miscreants caught up in true crime stories and those in fictional film noir fit together like bullets and a revolver.

More compelling still, fact-based noirs may seem more plausible than purely fictional yarns because in the back of our minds we know that the tale we’re watching is, at least in part, objectively truth based. Real people made these choices, acted reprehensibly and perhaps paid for their misdeeds. The weight of that knowledge helps keeps us engaged until the end. We want to see the protagonist’s fate play out even if we already know the “true” facts — will Hollywood’s version agree with the sensational headlines, garish news photos and breathlessly recounted real-life courtroom dramas that the media beamed across the nation for mass consumption? The answer is often yes and no. Exaggerations, embellishments and rewriting of the facts are not unheard of. Usually this is done in the spirit of enhancing dramatic tension and clarifying the story. See if you agree.

Here’s a sample of films based on pulp fact, usually with a chaser of fiction served up on the side — or perhaps it’s the other way around.

Barbara Stanwyck, Fred MacMurray, Edward G. Robinson, “Double Indemnity.”

"Double Indemnity" (1944) 

Claims adjuster Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson) has a theory about the murder plot that drives "Double Indemnity” and it fits together like a watch, he says. The same is true of this film. It’s crafted and assembled like the movement of a fine Swiss timepiece. In it, insurance salesman Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) and femme fatale Phyllis Dietrichson (Barbara Stanwyck) trick Phyllis’s husband into signing an accident insurance policy. They plan to do him in and collect the proceeds, but things don’t go exactly as planned.

The film was adapted from James M. Cain’s novel of the same title, which was loosely based on the 1927 murder of Albert Snyder. The real-life case involved a devious collaboration between Snyder’s wife, Ruth Brown Snyder, and her lover, Judd Gray.

Ruth and Albert’s marriage was on the rocks. She wanted money and financial independence, so she hatched a plot to murder her spouse and claim a big insurance payout. Much like the film in which Phyllis seduces Walter, Ruth manipulated Gray, persuading him to help kill her unwitting husband.

They chloroformed Albert, rendering him unconscious, staged his murder as a burglary gone wrong and positioned the body to mimic an accident. Like Phyllis and Walter, they were after a larger payout allowed by a double indemnity clause in the accident policy.

But the police saw through inconsistencies in Ruth and Gray’s stories. Evidence began piling up against them and the couple was finally arrested.

Unlike the film, they were tried and the proceedings became a media sensation. They were both found guilty and sentenced to death. 

In 1943, director Billy Wilder and writer Raymond Chandler adapted Cain’s novel into a screenplay. The film cleverly intertwines facts from the original case and adds layers of suspense, psychological tension, and intricate character development. Fred MacMurray’s portrayal of Walter Neff and Barbara Stanwyck’s embodiment of Phyllis Dietrichson further immortalized the characters inspired by Ruth and Gray.

The convergence of reality and fiction in “Double Indemnity” made an indelible mark on American filmmaking and helped set the pace for noirs that came after it.

Burt Lancaster, “The Killers.”

"The Killers" (1946)

Based in part on the 1927 short story of the same title by Ernest Hemingway, the film focuses on an insurance detective's investigation into the execution by two professional killers of a former boxer who was unresistant to his own murder.

A pair of hitmen, Max (William Conrad) and Al (Charles McGraw), enter a small-town diner in search of ex-prizefighter Ole “Swede” Anderson (Burt Lancaster). They manhandle the locals to squeeze information out of them and finally leave, only to locate their quarry and shoot him dead.

The next day insurance investigator Jim Reardon (Edmund O'Brien) arrives in town to investigate Swede's death. He interviews the diner's patrons and staff and tracks down Swede's girlfriend, Kitty Collins (Ava Gardner), but no one knows much about the murder. Reardon's investigation eventually leads him to mobster "Big Jim" Colfax (Albert Dekker). We learn in flashbacks about a payroll robbery that Swede took part in. When it was time to divide the loot Swede realized that others were trying to grab his share.

Hemingway’s short story, on which the film is based, was modeled after a real-life killing ordered by the Chicago mob. Popular boxer Andre Anderson, who once defeated Jack Dempsey, was the target. His killer, Leo Mongoven, went on the run and was captured following a traffic collision that killed Chicago banker John J. Mitchell and his wife Mary Louise.

Apart from its compelling story and strong performances, “The Killers” is notable for its dark, moody photography — shadows and light create a deep sense of unease and dread. Cinematographer Elwood Bredell, who also shot classic noir “Phantom Lady” (1944), fills the frame with inky black shadows that project a palpable atmosphere of doom. 

In addition to its classic noir status, “The Killers” helped usher in the filmic era of the hitman, echos of which can be heard in films such as “Murder By Contract” (1958), “Murder, Inc.” (1960), “Pulp Fiction” (1994), and many others.

James Stewart, “Call Northside 777.”

"Call Northside 777" (1948)

“Call Northside 777” 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, believing 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.

Veteran director Henry Hathaway, who previously shot many westerns, action pictures, war movies and thrillers, employed a documentary-style opening sequence for the film, much as he did with “The House on 92nd Street” (1945). Paying great attention to detail, he filmed most of the scenes 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.

James Stewart, John Dall, Farley Granger, “Rope.”

“Rope” (1948) 

“Rope” is a fictionalized account of the Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb case, a cold, senseless murder that took place in Chicago in the early part of the last century. When the perpetrators were caught, a sensational, highly publicized trial followed. 

In the film, philosophy professor Rupert Cadell (James Stewart) is drawn into the world of two wealthy young men, Brandon Shaw (John Dall) and Philip Morgan (Farley Granger), who, unbeknownst to Cadell, have committed the “perfect murder.” The professor is initially fascinated by the two young men but eventually realizes that they are dangerous.

The real-life events that inspired the film began on May 21, 1924, when 14-year-old Bobby Franks was found strangled in a vacant lot in Chicago. Franks had been lured to the lot by Leopold and Loeb, who had planned the murder as an intellectual exercise.

The two were brilliant young men who were fascinated by Nietzsche's philosophy of the Übermensch, or "superman." They believed that they were superior to other people and that they had the right to kill anyone they deemed inferior.

The pair were eventually arrested and convicted of the Franks murder. They were sentenced to life in prison, where they both died.

“Rope” was a critical and commercial success and was praised for its suspenseful plot and its psychological insights. The film was also controversial because it appeared to be filmed in a single take. Director Alfred Hitchcock cleverly choreographed camera movements, which allowed continuous filming of scenes up to 10 minutes in duration. Stage hands silently moved scenery and furnishings during filming to accommodate cast and camera movements. When spliced together the film, which takes place in a single location, appears to unfold in real time, much like the stage play on which it is based. James Stewart acknowledged that few director besides Hitchcock would attempt to shoot such an experimental film, however Stewart said he felt that the continuous-shot concept used in “Rope” didn’t really work. Many would disagree. As with any Hitchcock film there are always elements that make it a worthwhile viewing experience.  

This is Part I of True Crime Noirs. Read Part II and Part III.

Horror Hotel: Don't Drink the Water!

The Cecil Hotel in downtown Los Angeles
has been the scene of strange goings on. 

I

t’s probably not overdoing it to say that the Cecil Hotel, recently rebranded as the Cecil Hotel Apartments, is one of L.A.’s spookiest buildings. At least two bona fide serial killers – “Night Stalker” Richard Ramirez in 1985 and Jack Unterweger in 1991 – called it home, and the 95 year-old hotel, built in 1927, has had several murders and its share of jumpers who went out the higher windows and hit the sidewalk below or the hotel’s marquee. One jumper landed on a pedestrian and killed him as well as herself.

The Night Stalker

But one of the truly strangest stories is that of Canadian tourist Elisa Lam.  She went missing from the hotel Jan. 31, 2013, and was found drowned in one of the Cecil’s rooftop water tanks. She had been dead in the tank for two weeks and wasn’t discovered until guests complained about the smell and taste of the hotel’s drinking water and low water pressure in the showers. A maintenance man went up to the roof to investigate and made the grisly discovery.

Security video shot inside a Cecil elevator captured Lam just before she went missing. She appears to be frightened, pushes buttons for all of the floors and seems to be hiding inside the elevator. She steps off of the elevator and makes strange gestures, as though she’s speaking with someone. See video, below.

Some observers say that it would have been impossible for her to make her way to the roof and somehow get inside the water tank unassisted. Below, a local news reporter explains how difficult it would have been for Lam to get inside the water tank.

Police ruled her death an accidental drowning. We’ll probably never know for sure what actually happened that night on the roof of the Cecil.  Below, see Cecil guests’ reactions to drinking, bathing and brushing their teeth with the tainted water from the rooftop tank. CNN gives a rundown on the hotel's tragic history.

Smile For the Camera: A Mugs Gallery From the 1920s

There are mug shots, and then there are mug shots. They've become a standard feature on gossip websites, such as TMZ, where actors, pop singers and other Star Trailer trash get their dirty linens aired.
But mug shots from the olden days tell a different, more engrossing story. Here are some tough characters in the 1920s who got their pictures saved for posterity. It may be just the primitive photographic technology of the day that brings out each subject's most sinister characteristics, but these hombres look like they'd kill you for a Hershey's Candy Bar. Speaking of primitive, the police photographers of that era seemed to take a casual approach to their jobs. There are just a couple of standard poses -- standing and sitting; hat on and hat off.
Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be any information about these perps. Just use your imagination and assume the worst. Chances are you'll be pretty close to the mark.

Women of Crime Stand by Their (Hit) Men

THE NEW YORK DAILY NEWS IS TOPS in publishing lurid crime photos, and its photo essay on gangster molls does not break with that tradition. This group of 24 vintage shots betray fierce
loyalty, insouciance under duress and utter contempt for authority. For the most part, these women were gun carriers, holdup lookouts and general crime accomplices who refused to rat, and many of them paid a price for their actions. You'll have to click through the one-photo pages; online publications do that to increase their page views, and as annoying as that can be, this is one of those rare photo essays that is worth the time to browse.

This Scarface is in Chicago, Not Miami

Living dangerously, Tony Camonte muscles in on his boss's girlfriend.

"Scarface" (1932) is one of the seminal American gangster films of the 1930s, along with "Little Caesar," "The Roaring Twenties" and "The Public Enemy." Each one tells the story of a gangster's rise in the bootlegging business and his assent to the top of a powerful crime syndicate. After tasting success, each of the crime lords has a precipitous fall back to earth due to errors in judgment and his own hubris. 

The films are a study in how criminal empires are built on the sale of whisky, gin and beer to a willing Prohibition-era public. The 1930s "Scarface was remade in 1983 with Al Pacino in the title role. Both films tell similar stories but could hardly more different in content, tone and style. The Pacino "Scarface," directed by Brian De Palma, is a good deal more graphically violent and involves cocaine trafficking rather than rum running.

Howard Hawks directed the original and Ben Hecht wrote the break-neck paced script that is as witty as his screwball comedy, "His Girl Friday" — Hawks directed that one, too.  

Hawks's film had to sit on the shelf for two years after its completion. The studio was reluctant to release it because of the violence it depicts. But compared with the Pacino film, the original "Scarface" is almost a Sunday school picnic. Although Hawks's film is hardly violence-free it seems mild compared with the bullet-riddled 1983 film, which contains, among other atrocities, a chainsaw murder. 

Paul Muni is terrific as the wisecracking Tony Camonte, a gangster who wants to control all of Chicago's booze biz. He must step over or crush many other hoods to get the job done, and like many a successful gangster he'll rub out even a longtime pal who stands in the way.

Tony flirts with his boss's girlfriend and talks of taking over the North Side of Chicago's bootlegging business that's run by a powerful rival gang — both actions suggest a death wish at the core of his being. But pretty soon he makes good on his ambitions.

Tony (Paul Muni) likes the feel of a machine gun in 'Scarface.'

Despite his penchant for deep-sixing his rivals, Tony has a goofy side that might have seemed out of place in such a dubious movie hero, but here it doesn't.

The newly rich Tony shows off his fancy new digs to the girl he's taken a shine to and she tells the vocabulary-challenged mobster it's sort of gaudy, which he takes as a compliment.

When Tony gets his hands on a Thompson machine gun, the first one he's ever seen, he's delighted with the weapon's raw destructive power. He takes adolescent delight in spraying the room with bullets, but it doesn't take long before he starts training the weapon on human targets.

Tony is devoted to his mother — do all wiseguys have mother issues? He's also a fierce overlord to his younger sister, demanding that she never go on dates with young men. His fixation with his attractive sibling is a bit creepy and ultimately becomes a key part of his undoing.

Tony's fancy townhouse is equipped with steel shutters, making the joint a fortress to stave off bullets and bombs that rivals and the police might fire in his direction. But he can never completely shut out the threats that will ultimately rain down upon him.

Racked by paranoia, he ultimately finishes off his friends as well as other hoods looking to put out his lights. Alone, he's no longer a force to be reckoned with and he pays the ultimate price for his misdeeds. A fitting end to a strange bad guy who we can't help but like.