'The Silent Partner' : A Noir Bank Job, 1970s Style

Elliot Gould in 'The Silent Partner.'

Elliot Gould is Miles Cullen, a Toronto bank teller whose chief companions are tropical fish that flutter about in an aquarium in his cramped apartment. To his female co-workers, Miles is a teddy bear nerd with as much sex appeal as one of his guppies.

One day, he realizes that sinister acts are taking place in the mall where his bank is located. Something churns within him, and before long his ruminations bubble to the surface. He fusses over his chess board — the first clue that this drama will be a tactical battle of wits.

Frustrated in his dreams of winning the love of a beautiful woman, Julie (Susannah York), he takes an uncharacteristic step that could free him from his mundane life or lead to ruin  — pocketing a healthy chunk of the bank's funds after a hold-up man makes off with some of the cash drawer contents.

As ineffectual as he is with the opposite sex, Miles proves himself a surprisingly skilled criminal, although it becomes clear he has not considered all of the consequences of his actions.

Once the deed is done, a number of snags appear, including the reappearance of Reikle (Christopher Plummer), a sadistic criminal who is the diametric opposite of Miles. Further complicating the matter is Elaine (Céline Lomez), a femme fatale with murkey allegiances — as femmes fatale often have.

Along the way, Miles comes close to losing the purloined fortune he hopes will serve as an early retirement fund. In addition to keeping his hands on the cash, he must figure out how to rid himself of his nemesis, Reikle, who has made Miles his unwilling silent partner.

The screenplay, written by Curtis Hanson, who co-wrote and directed "L.A. Confidential," has a lean framework typical of neo noir. Scenes fit together nicely and project an understated authenticity. 

If one weakness must be singled out it's that "The Silent Partner" lacks noir's fatalistic outlook — the ending buttons up neatly and just misses greatness. See it anyway, because, unlike Julie's withering summation of Miles, its total is greater than the sum of its parts.

Infamous L.A. Crime Scenes ... and Where to Find Them

The Colt revolver found near Lana Clarkson’s body at the Alhambra crime scene.

Who doesn't like to reminisce now and then? Especially when it comes to heinous crimes committed in the City of Los Angeles. Like any large metropolitan region, L.A. has its share of dark moments. Crime in the City of Angels has been the stuff we've watched in hundreds if not thousands of movies and TV shows. The link between the city and the crimes that are perpetrated here stays burned into our collective memory long after the blood stains have been mopped up and the corpses removed to the city morgue.

Some may blame the year-round sunshine and dry desert air for driving the city's good people to distraction. Raymond Chandler said that the dusty, unforgiving winds can bring about madness and tragedy:

“There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.” 

― Raymond Chandler, Red Wind: A Collection of Short Stories 

If you'd like to review a bit of the city's past, try this handy guide, 'The Locations of L.A,'s Most Memorable Crimes by Neighborhood."

Did Bugsy’s Brainstorm Really Launch Vegas?

https://slate.com/culture/2019/01/mobster-bugsy-siegel-and-his-influence-on-hollywood-and-las-vegas.html

Who was really behind the creation of Las Vegas? The answer might surprise you.

When Works of Art Bewitch, Haunt ... and Judge

Detective Mark MacPherson is mesmerized by the portrait  of Laura Hunt. 

Noir anti-heroes often come from the wrong side of the tracks, and then struggle to brush off the dust from the old neighborhood. Lured by the trappings of the filthy rich — jewels, swell apartments, gorgeous babes — they cross the line into a saturnine world of deceit, plunder and sometimes murder, all in an ill-advised effort to reinvent themselves. And it usually ends badly.

One plaything of the well-heeled seen often in film noir is the painted portrait, a symbol of power and wealth, and sometimes the keystone of the noir drama’s plot. Portraits of women frequently turn up, sometimes echoing a character's desire to isolate and possess the sitter. Other times the subject of a painting seems to lord over a room, casting judgment on those who behold the artwork. 

In Otto Preminger’s “Laura” (1944), police Det. Lt. Mark McPherson (Dana Andrew) falls in love with the eponymous murder victim, Laura Hunt (Jean Tierney), whose portrait hangs over her living room mantelpiece. His frequent visits to the scene of the crime, the dead girl’s apartment, are part of his investigation, so he says. 

But while there, he compulsively sifts through her possessions, listens to her favorite recordings of romantic music and moons over the portrait. All the while Waldo Lydecker (Clifton Webb), a poison-tongued gossip columnist, chides the detective about “falling in love with a corpse.”

But the alluring portrait of the murdered woman has an unmistakable attraction for MacPherson, and the artwork is as much a character in the story as any of the living cast members. It also helps set the stage for a dramatic plot twist that comes halfway through the film. Under Laura's spell, MacPherson is suddenly snapped awake from his reverie as the story takes its unexpected turn. 

Gene Tierney, in 'Whirlpool'

In another Preminger noir, “Whirlpool” (1950), Anne Sutton (Jean Tierney, again), a psychiatrist’s wife, suffers from kleptomania and is hypnotized to treat her condition. Those around her consider her grasp of reality shaky at best.

Echoing “Laura,” a portrait of a deceased woman plays an outsized role in the film. Anne is blamed for the woman’s death, and the portrait, again, hung over the living room mantelpiece, seems to haunt the victim’s former residence — the piercing eyes of justice looking down on Anne, judging her and ready to pass sentence.

Joan Bennett, Edward G. Robinson,  
'The Woman in the Window.'

In Fritz Lang’s “The Woman in the Window,” Prof. Richard Wanley (Edward G. Robinson), a beloved university educator, lectures his students about ethical principles. One night, he finds himself in a quandary that throws his life into turmoil and causes him to question his own principles.

His burgeoning problems begin after he spies a painting of a beautiful woman on display in a gallery’s front window. The story takes a magical turn when the woman in the painting suddenly appears on the sidewalk next to him. 

The heralded professor eventually lands in the middle of a spiraling set of circumstances that threaten to envelop him like quicksand. For Wanley, the woman of his dreams, who seems to materialize out of the painting, is a siren lying in wait, ready to take possession of him.

Edward G. Robinson in ' Scarlet Street'

Likewise, in "Scarlet Street" (1945), Edward G. Robinson plays amateur artist Christopher "Chris" Cross, who gets mixed up with tawdry characters Katherine 'Kitty' March (Joan Bennett) and Johnny Prince (Dan Duryea) who exploit his creative talents. 

Kitty takes credit for Chris's paintings after an art critic gives the works a rave review. Chris, the meek artist, is unable to convince the world that he created the masterworks that are selling for large sums.

Paintings used in these films, however, aren't likely to command whopping prices at auction. In fact, some are hardly paintings at all. The portrait of Laura Hunt, for instance, was actually a varnished photograph of actress Jean Tierney, who played the ill-fated title character. 

Then, there's a downright silly example of art appearing in noir. A portrait, supposedly by Renaissance master Raphael, appears in "The Dark Corner" (1946) (also starring Clifton Webb). It's a left-handed imitation of the artist's work that wouldn't fool a child.

So, let's just call them what they are — movie props that tell a story of their own. They're not great works of art, but part of larger creative works — the films they appear in — that oftentimes achieve greatness in their own wright.

A Simple Plot is the Backdrop for Murder

Ben Gazzara, Timothy Carey, Robert Phillips, Seymour Cassel and Morgan Woodward.

Sometimes, your favorite films play tricks on you. You carry around a memory of the plot, atmosphere and pacing, but later you find that your recollection was all wrong.
That happened to me recently when I saw John Cassavete's 1976 film,"The Killing of a Chinese Bookie."
It was the first time I'd watched it in a number of years, and I'd remembered it as a densely plotted crime thriller, full of atmosphere and peppered throughout with odd, interesting characters.
I got the parts about the characters and atmosphere right, but the plot was not as dense as I thought. It was about as simple as a storyline can be.
Cosmo Vittelli (Ben Gazzara), runs a sleazy cabaret on Sunset. He loses big money gambling and agrees to kill a mob figure to pay off his debt. He carries out the hit, and is double-crossed by the gangsters who put him up to the crime.

Mr. Sophistication (Meade Roberts)

The story's main attraction is Cosmo, who is an oddity in the sleaze trade. He writes and directs the low-brow skits staged at the club, and he firmly believes in their artistic quality. His dedication to his work is taken to ridiculous extremes. Even when he's running for his life, he can't help but phone in to the club to check on the performers and give them directions.
As an inveterate gambler, he risks all and commits murder to save himself, but also to keep his little theater troupe active. You might say that Cosmo is a stand-in for independent film producers, a la Cassavetes. It takes a gambler with unconquerable dedication to his craft to make films like his. We can only hope that his struggle never involved a contract killing.

'Noir' or 'Noirs'? Someone Has to Put His Foot Down

Don't ever say 'film noirs' to me again, baby!

No matter what they're supposed to be ranking, top 20 lists usually leave out some of the best of the best.
But that's the nature of the beast.
There's no such thing as a top 20 list that actually picks the best of anything. That's the fun of reading the things.
You can look at the list and pick apart each one of the selection. You'll say, "Uh-huh, they got that one right." Or, "What morons! They actually chose that?!"
Then there's the case of the U.K. Independent's "The art of darkness: the top 20 film noirs."
Love the films they chose.
Hate the title.
The plural of film noir is "films noir," not "film noirs." Notice the placement of the "s."
However, in my humble opinion, it's OK to refer to the genre as a whole as "noirs."
Americans and European expatriates in America originated the genre, but the French identified and named it. Let's not obscure that fact with a sloppy translation of the name.

What the Devil is Film Noir, and Who Named It?

A scene from 'The Crimson Kimono,'  a 1959 thriller directed by Samuel Fuller.

I'm a little late in posting a link to the great 2014 New Yorker article by Richard Brody, "Film Noir: The Elusive Genre."
It's a smart discussion about what exactly makes a movie a noir. I won't be spoiling anything by saying that it's hard to really pin it down.
There are all kinds of crime films that you'll recognize, including gangster pictures, heist films, movies with kidnapping plots and murder mysteries. But film noir is defined not so much by the kind of criminals involved or the sort of crime that gets committed.
So what makes it noir?
It's the characters involved and the kinds of conflicts that they face.
Check out the article. It's a fairly short read, by New Yorker standards, anyway. And as always for that magazine, the writing is tops.
If the above link doesn't work, click this link.