THE SOUND OF FURY (1950)

“Violence is a disease caused by moral and social breakdown. That is the real problem, and it must be solved by reason, not by emotion. With understanding. Not hate.”

The above quote could apply to the present century. In this case, it is the timeless voice-over warning repeated at the end of the film. A film that will not come to mind when recalling classic films, but this forgotten gem provides, perhaps, the most contrasting opening and closing bookends in film noir history. Produced by Robert Stillman and released through United Artists, this ninety-two-minute crime drama is appropriately supported by a score by Hugo Friedhofer.

Also in contrast are two men drawn together by happenstance. Frank Lovejoy’s performance will leave your emotions in knots. An early standout role that began his first and only full decade of acting. He portrays a loving husband and father who moved to California to seek employment but it has brought nothing more than frustration. His opening scenes are innocent and heartfelt, but with Lovejoy at his lowest point of self-loathing, he is very vulnerable to the slightest motivation for income. His chance meeting at a bowling alley with an arrogant Lloyd Bridges influences the naive and desperate Lovejoy. Call it, imperfect timing. Bridges enjoys the finer things in life like a fancy wardrobe, preening in front of a mirror, and bowling. He is initially kind of likable. A guy with enough confidence to take charge. His subtle persuasion plays on Lovejoy’s hopelessness and it is a masterful class in salesmanship. Both actors are superb with personalities representing a spectrum of opposites.

Appropriately, Bridges professionally steals his scenes. A young, physically fit male in which social standing is everything. He is a cocky, petty thief who thinks he is invincible, believing he should be admired no matter what he is doing. As only his wheelman, Lovejoy’s first robbery experience does not weigh too heavily on his conscience. On the contrary, his new “employment” brings home enough money to encourage his expectant wife and young son and boost his self-esteem. This charade continues for some time. However, with Bridge’s ego expanding blindingly fast, he decides to up his game by kidnapping the young adult son of a wealthy millionaire. Lovejoy is extremely nervous about it. The kidnapping offers up some excellent camera work of Guy Roe. With Lovejoy’s help, the son is bound by ropes then Bridges pushes him down a stone-covered embankment. The son rolls by the ground-based camera as the stones cascade toward the viewer in a blur. There is a surreal sense of depth looking up at the two, extra tall distorted figures. With no masks hiding their identification, Bridges, in all his demented logic, brutally kills the son by smashing his head repeatedly with a huge stone. Pretty obvious he is not familiar with the term, “ransom.” Lovejoy is instantly sickened. His close-up, with eyes tightly closed, personifies disgust and terror. His life's history passes before him.

Enter Richard Carlson, a local newspaper reporter who fuels his report with hate-filled rhetoric. He puts the “sin” in sensationalism and thrusts the locals into a frenzy. Thankfully he had no Twitter account. But after meeting Lovejoy’s wife and reading his sincere letter of confession to her, he realizes his violent words have vastly overstepped the order of the law. Carlson’s close friend, an Italian psychology scholar, Renzo Cesana, confronts him about his lack of discernment and judgment. It is a Cesana quote that opens this film.

The foursome paints the town, spending Bridges unearned cash. Thinking nothing of the murder. His “steady” is the appropriately attired, Adele Jergens. Let us just say she has been around the block more than a few times. The performance of Katherine Locke is worth a mention. She becomes Lovejoy’s awkward and repressed blind date. He seems to take some comfort in Locke’s sensitive manner. His excellent portrayal of a man helplessly numb and detached from his current life or any future life is spot-on. When a nightclub magician repeatedly uses Lovejoy as his comic foil in full public view, we witness Lovejoy’s embarrassment of being in the spotlight knowing his shame. He is the only person not laughing. Sitting at the table, Locke pays him awkward compliments in the hope her small talk might flourish a relationship with another total stranger. However, his turn to heavy drink leaves his mind susceptible to the truth and he blurts out his recent crime. Now terrified, Locke realizes she has picked the wrong guy again.

The agonizing crescendo, one of the most unnerving twenty minutes on film, creates a wallop of an ending. The disturbing imagery is emblazoned long after the moviegoer has left the theater. The calm resolve and hopelessness on Lovejoy’s face behind bars indicate a man coming to terms with his plight, though frightened beyond words. His honest confession led authorities to Bridges. In total contrast, Bridges' excellent mimicry of a raging, caged animal is chilling. He threatens Lovejoy’s life in the adjoining cell, irrationally thinking he will break out. It reveals the true nature of a violent sociopath. Mob violence rules as both prisoners are seen dragged from the jail and beaten. Lovejoy’s horizontal manhandling exit above the heads of the mob, mosh pit style, foretells future “aggressive mobs” at rock concerts some twenty-five years later.

Note: The film is based on events that occurred in 1933 concerning two men arrested for kidnapping and murder. The suspects confessed and were lynched by a mob of locals. The 1936 film “Fury” was inspired by the same incident. Reissued with a title of, “Try and Get Me!,” it was seemingly to promote the singular electrifying performance of Lloyd Bridges.