WHERE THE SIDEWALK ENDS (1950)

This film hardly falls into the unknown category for any film noir fan. It is generally highly regarded despite a familiar B-movie path. Directed and produced by Otto Preminger with a screenplay by the typically great Ben Hecht, it follows the story of another cynical detective who hates criminals to the core. Subconsciously because his late father was a gangster in his own time. His methods of getting a criminal to talk are not by the book and the Inspector, Robert Simon, in his first film role, repeatedly calls him on the carpet for it.

Dana Andrews plays the aforementioned detective where violence seems to be around every corner. Murder suspect and gambler, Craig Stevens, who is particularly soused, strikes Andrews across the jaw then he is decked, hitting his head on the floor. Andrews tries to wake him but he is out. Permanently. Andrews turns white with fear. He will surely lose that parking spot in front of headquarters! When he finds out Stevens was a war hero and the silver plate in his head is what killed him, he feels even worse. Things get dicier after Andrews discovers that Gene Tierney was his wife. Andrews' web of deceit plunges him deeper into self-loathing. Andrews devises a plan to detour the manslaughter rap.

Gary Merrill is Andrew's gangster nemesis. It was Andrew's father who set Merrill up in the mob. His character is somewhat in the mold of Richard Widmark's screen debut role, though not mentally unstable. Cool, calm and polite with nice threads, Merrill's quirk is his apparent addiction to nasal inhalers. A medicinal gimmick that seems to only afflict the underworld. Hiring Neville Brand as a heavy, here doing double duty as a massage therapist, was also a customary gimmick during this period.

Tierney was another actress of the era with a slight overbite. This physical “feature” is noticeable only when she speaks. Which is her every scene. I guess they cannot all be Grace Kelly. I digress. Her father, Tom Tully is a cabbie who has been understandably angry with his good-for-nothing son-in-law, Stevens. Because of this and his whereabouts near the time of Stevens' demise, he is inadvertently accused of homicide. Newly promoted Lieutenant, Karl Malden, is convinced Tully is the killer despite Andrews' attempt to throw the killing in Merrill's direction.

At his personal sidewalk ends, Andrews is abducted and driven to the gangsters' hideout. There is a creepiness of being helplessly trapped inside a car as it is hydraulically lifted to the upper level of a parking garage. No dialogue. No music. Just the sound of the lift's mechanics. Feeling more despondent and no better than his father, he hopes to be killed so the authorities can at least pin one murder on Merrill, who is not taking the bait. The gangsters hightail it when the sirens get louder and they lock Andrews in the garage. In their hasty retreat, the gang forgot about an unlocked rooftop door, and out pops Andrews. He stops the elevator's descent between floors with Merrill and his gang being arrested.

Andrews had written a confession letter to be opened in the event of his death. Simon, now all smiles and grateful to Andrews for bringing down the mob, indicates there is no reason, thankfully, to open it. Awkward. He wants the letter read anyway. In front of Tierney. The Inspector's smile is turned upside down. Andrews will have time to contemplate his future career move. Perhaps security detail at a Woolworth's. 

QUICKSAND (1950)

Mickey Rooney's characterization is legitimate as a young auto mechanic—an occupation he returns to four years later in, Drive A Crooked Road—who longs for a lifestyle he cannot afford in somewhat of an ego boost. Throughout the film, he provides his inner thoughts in voice-overs. His innocent borrowing of twenty dollars from the garage's cash register is only the beginning. Though he has every intention of paying it back the next day, his descent into crime pulls him down deeper as each misdeed gets riskier. The twenty dollars is soon forgotten. Rooney improves this film and keeps it from sinking. This film buried Andy Hardy for good.

Not helping is dangerous Jeanne Cagney, who is temptation personified. Saying she is well-known in the neighborhood is an understatement. Peter Lorre, the seedy owner of a penny arcade, could teach a detailed history class on Cagney's past. Barbara Bates plays the wholesome, unappreciated good girl who has taken her relationship with Rooney seriously. She rounds out the quartet of main characters. Like anyone not taking responsibility for their actions, Rooney's audible inner thoughts express his disgust with the “bad luck” that has befallen him since stealing twenty dollars from his employer's cash draw. Soon the twenty bucks are long forgotten. Things get so bad that Rooney ends up robbing a soused bar patron near the arcade and Lorre blackmails him over the robbing and in exchange for his silence, requests a new car. Between a rock and a hard place, the mechanic steals one from his garage. Cagney hatches a plan for Rooney to steal money from Lorre's arcade to pay for the car. She feels entitled to half so she can buy that mink coat she has lusted over. A driving suspense theme kicks in during the theft. A nightwatchman spots someone inside the arcade and fires a shot. Within all the darkness, a light bulb turns on for Rooney who parts company with the female quicksand. He offers what funds are left to his unethical boss who promptly attempts to call the police. The ominous suspense theme returns with good effect as Rooney viciously stops his boss from speed-dialing. He panics and runs.

Bates returns to see Rooney and the film to the end. She is head over heels in love with Rooney no matter what. In a surprising bit of unlikely good fortune, he hijacks a car driven by a sympathetic lawyer. The most unbelievable sequence in the script. After long driving advice, Rooney sends Bates and the lawyer back inland while he tries to sail south until things cool off. He quite literally, misses the boat but does not miss a bullet from one officer. The lawyer's car does a U-turn when its radio reports that Rooney's boss is recovering. The good news. The bad news is that Rooney is off to prison for a few years. All because of a lousy twenty bucks! Life is not fair, man. Bates promises to wait and I believe her. She is determined to get married.

Note: This United Artist release has an unintentionally amusing ending as three extras are seen peering in the car's rear window, jockeying for a better view inside the studio prop car, above. Those extras appear to be the first "photo bombers."

CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS (1953)

The slow-motion dissolving opening credits of a shimmering font seem to establish a whimsical tone. The orchestral music crescendos gently as each main credit slowly appears then decrescendos as credits fade. Then the cycle repeats. With a complicated lead character, this movie needs to be watched more than once to catch all the nuances that make this low-budget film work. The film's pacing in the first thirty minutes was a bit frustrating, however. The cinematography by John Russell is certainly a highlight. The exception is the "Keystone Cops" rear projection of 1930s traffic as seen from a speeding (studio) police car's windscreen. The wacky, blurred footage embarrasses an otherwise solid, yet slightly quirky, film. The sets nicely masquerade for location filming yet, according to the film, all businesses apparently close after dusk. The insomniac city is Chicago and Chill Wills gives it voice during one day in the Windy City. 

Young is strangely nonchalant with his unhappy lot in life, thinking it will be his last day as a policeman. He has grown weary of his job and restless with his marriage of an interminable three years. Few could play nonchalantly better, though. It took me a while to realize the early references to “Pops” was more than everyone's affectionate term for a senior policeman. Young plays his son, carrying the family torch in the line of duty. Young's brother, on the other hand, is tempted to a wilder side by local magician turned hoodlum, William Talman. Rather odd since the magician angle is irrelevant to the movie unless he prepared those title credits. Talman has indelibly etched himself into another film, this time as a smooth and calculating criminal mind. Edward Arnold, the powerful crooked attorney, is a "maker of men." Talman is one and he hopes Young, being unhappy as a lowly policeman, will be his next success. The attorney will pay Young handsomely if he transports Talman to Indiana for protection. In reality, it would get him out of Arnold's hair. What there is of it. Arnold's wife, Marie Windsor, has her own scheme.

In the mix is an “exotic” dancer, Mala Powers, to whom Young is not that committed either. He would like to be but it is complicated. She plays an aspiring ballerina whose bit of bad fortune placed her in the company of Tutu-less dancers. Also in love with Powers is perhaps the film's most unusual character. Wally Cassell plays the club's unique entertainer whose job behind an elevated glass case outside the nightclub is to fool the public into believing he is actually a mechanical man. With his face painted silver, under a top hat and black tuxedo, he performs in shifts for the equivalent length of this movie---ninety minutes---with fifteen-minute breaks in between. This quirky character is the only witness to a murder by Talman outside the club. And Cassell's single tear exposes the truth.

There is a nice ending twist of confusion for Talman. The father takes the police radio call in place of his son. Talman is stunned to learn father is there not to take him to the Hoosier state but to handcuff and arrest him. With the devastating realization of Talman's heartless action, Young's career commitment and life purpose hit new heights, no thanks to Wills. The ending is the typical gunfire exchange while running to total exhaustion. Chicago's electrified elevated commuter rail system is a big concern as both men sidestep around them in the shadows. 

Spoiler Alert: When Chill Wills pops up out of nowhere to be Gig Young's substitute patrol partner, the viewer and Young wonder where he came from. It is a good bet this film is the only fantasy noir released by Republic Pictures or any other studio. It is another quirky element and I am not sure it even has a point. Young does not seem to be affected by any of Will's angelic wise counsel. Nearing the film's end, once he is confident Young has his life on course, he vanishes just as mysteriously as he appeared.

Notes: A couple of officers refer to Talman as a “who’d.” It was an era when "hoodlum" was truncated to "hood" as slang. Other movies of the era may use the same term. Finally, Wally Cassell may be best known as the soldier with constant amorous intentions in the notable 1945 film, Story of G.I. Joe.