Review by Mike Dennis

From the moment you see Richard Widmark running through dark alleys in the opening scene of Jules Dassin’s 1950 classic, Night And The City, you know he’s totally screwed. If only he knew it.

But such is the lot of film noir protagonists. Caught up in the backwash of their own bad choices, they can only hope to put off, not avoid, what inevitably awaits them. And they’re always the last to know.

Night And The City, adapted from the 1938 Gerald Kersh novel of the same name, takes a look at the London demimonde of the era, where Harry Fabian plies his trade as a nightclub hustler. He periodically “borrows” money from his girlfriend to finance his big dreams, not the least of which is setting up a life of ease and plenty without having to work. Standing in his way are the sinister fat man, played by Francis L Sullivan, pursuing a personal vendetta against Fabian, and the East End godfather, played by the dark-suited Herbert Lom, whose intense presence fires up the proceedings every time he walks onscreen.

This is truly one of the greatest films, not only of the noir genre, but of all cinema. Dassin’s direction is flawless, capturing perfectly the seedy filth of London’s underbelly, while telling the riveting story of one man’s misplaced dreams.

Max Greene, the Director of Photography, is superb, never allowing the viewer to get comfortable. The expressionist look of the film is all sharp black-and-white contrast and angular shadows, and this, along with his off-center camera angles, produces an unsettling effect throughout. This is never more evident than in a nightclub scene, where a mirrored disco-type ball casts its little gleaming points over the oddly-lit club, bleeding into the office above. Toward the end, as Fabian’s reckoning approaches, dawn breaks over London, and suddenly the film takes on a pasty, grayish cast. By then, I felt like I was covered with dirt and needed a shower.

Meanwhile, the stressful score of Franz Waxman pumps up the adrenaline in all the right places. As Fabian runs deep through the back streets of London, the music pulls you to the edge of your seat.

But most of all, this is Widmark’s tour de force. Fabian is a complex character, driven by his own twisted ambitions, and beset by deep emotions. When he whines to Gene Tierney, “I just want to be somebody,” he injects a whole new feeling, a real truth, into that tired line that has been uttered by countless lesser actors. Widmark makes it all look so easy, so real, that he pulls you with him, deep inside Harry Fabian’s head and heart, as he’s sucked down into the whirlpool. Never again would he be given a role so challenging, showing us how he was so tragically wasted through his long career.

For those who are unfamiliar with this 1945 classic film noir (and I hope there aren’t too many), it’s all told in flashback by an unshaven, despondent Tom Neal, who laments everything that has happened to him in recent weeks. All he wanted was to hitchhike from New York to Los Angeles to be with his cutesy-poo girlfriend who was trying to “make it in pictures”, but wound up slinging hash instead. That’s all he wanted.

But what he got was Ann Savage. I’ll just leave it at that.

Detour was directed by Edgar G Ulmer, and was made at PRC (Producers Releasing Corporation) Studio, the last stop on poverty row in 1940s Hollywood. Filmed in six days on a budget of $30,000, and using the cheapest sets and production values imaginable, Ulmer crafted a haunting tale of people at the bottom of society’s pyramid. To put this budget into perspective, Avatar, the new James Cameron bloatbuster, cost 10,000 times as much.

Drowning in desperation, the characters try to hold on to what they have, and never seem to have enough. When these people are confronted with extraordinary circumstances and emotions, they, like all of us, will alter their mode of behavior. Some will even cross the line, the line that separates legal from criminal, moral from immoral, good from evil, Tom Neal from Ann Savage.

Film noir is generally associated with sinister characters moving through shadowy lighting. Much of Detour takes place under bright light: sunny rides in an open convertible, a well-lit apartment, and so on, but Ulmer’s direction and the interplay between the two leads give the film a very claustrophobic feel, like it was shot in a phone booth. The relentlessly grim story line follows Neal’s character as his life spirals ever downward to the unusual finale.

While Detour might be considered classic crime fiction, it’s important to note that no crime was ever committed during the movie. There’s a scene where Neal takes money and clothes from a dead man, but you know that if he didn’t take the dough, the cops would when they found him. I don’t put that in the crime category.

This is definitely a movie that’s worth another look, noir fans. A great story, with both Neal and Savage delivering unforgettable performances in what has to be the finest hour for each of them. And if you haven’t seen it, by all means buy it. You can get it online for six or seven dollars. You won’t be sorry.

And you’ll never pick up another hitchhiker again.

Of course, it’s well-known that the filmmakers weren’t really aware that they were creating a whole new approach to cinema.  They were just doing their best with the low budgets they had to work with.

 These movies were almost always made by the “B” picture crews of the old Hollywood studios.  That meant less money, less time to shoot, lesser-known actors, and so on.  You want to shoot a scene with dark dialogue in it?  Just turn down the lights, cast a few shadows, and point the camera in such a way as to create a dark mood to match the dialogue.  These directors, among whom were greats such as Jacques Tourneur and Anthony Mann, would go on to “bigger and better” movies, but they will always be remembered for their role in forging the path through the uncharted film noir wilderness.

Growing up in a very small town meant one movie theater, where they had double features (an “A” picture coupled with a “B” picture) all the time, and would change the program three times a week. This meant a tremendous number of movies were passing through that little burg. We got a good smattering of everything Hollywood was cranking out in those days, but the black-and-white crime movies always got my attention.  Just seeing Richard Conte’s name on a poster was enough for me to circle the date and see the movie.

Some of my all-time favorites include Double Indemnity, Out Of The Past, Scarlet Street, The Damned Don’t Cry, The Narrow Margin, Raw Deal, Detour, The Asphalt Jungle, and the Jules Dassin classic, Night And The City.  I might add that all of these came out either before I was born or before I was old enough to go to the movies by myself, so I really became acquainted with these through TV.

Some of the great films noir I actually saw in my hometown theater include New York Confidential, Kiss Me Deadly, The Killing, Violent Saturday, and that sleeper of sleepers, Plunder Road.

Recent years have seen an upswing in the genre.  Movies like Body Heat, The Grifters, and After Dark My Sweet (all of which were in color, by the way) have shown there’s a substantial demand for well-done treatments of these great stories.

Also, the rise of the DVD has seen the floodgates open up in terms of releasing many of the really obscure examples of film noir.  Gems like The Naked Kiss, Bad Blonde, Shoot To Kill, Railroaded, and The Scar are now available after decades of oblivion.

Anybody got any favorites they’d like to share?