T MEN (1947)

Never a dull moment as Anthony Mann directs this story about U.S. Treasury men attempting to break up a counterfeiting ring. An excellent film noir with outstanding cinematography by John Alton and an appropriate score by Paul Sawtell. Amazing what could be done with a five-hundred-grand budget. For the same budget, Railroaded was released the same year yet it is nearly forgotten. Mann certainly redeemed himself for that earlier effort. Distributed by Eagle-Lion Films, this production cleaned up at the box office. The film is not flawless, but close. One script fumble is when a federal agent, Frank Ferguson, comes down hard on a shop owner for not noticing counterfeit bills. This is after the film established that it takes an expert, under a magnifying glass, to know the difference between real bills.

Navigating the viewer through some background detail is a narrator, the definitive and commanding, Reed Hadley. After an informer is murdered, the Treasury Department chooses Dennis O’Keefe and Alfred Ryder to go deep undercover. Each has a myriad of details to memorize so they can blend into the crime world without suspicion. O’Keefe is first-rate in a standout role, leaving his earlier music or comedy films behind. Both are vouched for and all goes according to plan. For a while. The creepy steam room scenes are a little unsettling. Or maybe it is just the thought of Wallace Ford sweating under a towel. O'Keefe visits several in a row, trying to track him down. In the end, he is so zapped of strength he can barely stand, noting he lost several pounds by the end of the hunt.

There are edge-of-your-seat moments: in transit with Ford, Ryder is spotted by a friend who uses his real name. To make matters more intense, she is with Ryder's wife. The two meet face to face. Covering for his undercover work, she says, "You are mistaken. My husband is taller and more handsome." Ryder is saved. Ford is suspicious. But none more intense than when O’Keefe witnesses his partner's murder and cannot do anything about it without blowing his own cover. Few were as heartless in film noirs than hitman, Charles McGraw. Always on the edge of violence with a voice that could, if one got close enough, leave abrasions on your face.

Note: This is one of ten films for the unknown Mary Meade, four of which are uncredited. She plays the nightclub photographer/counterfeit contact, Evangeline, during this peak period of her career. Much more success came to June Lockhart, here in her sixth post-World War II film as the wife of Alfred Ryder's character.

CRY DANGER (1951)

Directed by Robert Parrish, this seventy-nine-minute film noir was produced by W.R. Frank and Sam Wiesenthal. Hats off to William Bowers for writing snappy and glib dialogue for the two male leads, from Jerome Cady's story. The powerful score was written by Paul Dunlap and Emil Newman. Lending suspense to this movie is a speeding passenger train at night beneath the opening credits. Getting off the train by daybreak is Dick Powell, sent to prison for a robbery and murder he did not commit. His life sentence is drastically shortened when an alibi comes forward. 

Distributed by RKO Radio Pictures for Olympic Productions, this is a tidy crime drama with lots of fun dialogue as Powell seems to be carrying over his Richard Diamond radio character with its glib humor, acting more like an experienced P.I. than a blackmailed ex-con. Though there is a heavier dose of sarcasm here. The lines roll off him second to none. Few had his ability to spit out these comebacks so charmingly yet with a tough guy hidden underneath. The guy providing Powell's alibi and subsequent prison release, Richard Erdman, turns out to be a total stranger to Powell, and not serving in the same division during the previous war. Erdman, a war amputee, confesses that he is simply hanging around Powell in hopes of getting a reward from the stolen one hundred grand if it is recovered. Powell is suspiciously grateful for his fake alibi. 

Powell sets out to clear himself and another inmate—the husband of Ronda Fleming's character—sent up for the same crime. Most of the time she looks blandly aloof with a voice resembling a comforting cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows. Causing some speed bumps along the way is a detective, Regis Toomey, who shadows Powell. Toomey has plenty of reasons to follow Powell and one includes Fleming. 

Powell and Erdman end up sharing a singular grungy mobile home in the trailer park where Fleming lives. Erdman is immediately attracted to a sunbathing neighbor, Jean Porter, almost as much as he is to alcoholic beverages. Porter plays a scene-stealing tart, who, when not modeling, is a highly trained pickpocket, as Erdman finds out. He is the other glib character. A notable example is when he is recovering in the hospital after his Nash "Bathtub" is riddled with bullets, resulting in an improbable five-mile-per-hour dismantling of his car before exiting the trailer park. It was a case of mistaken identity as the hit was meant for Powell. From his hospital bed, he mockingly demands the police chief provide him with a new wooden leg. In knotty pine. To match his den.  

Adding a despicable element is William Conrad, the double-crosser who is responsible for Powell's incarceration. Powell's first pounding of Conrad knocks him to the floor. Late in the film, Powell returns, and with a one-armed swoosh to clear off Conrad's desk, demands he lie down on it. He tells him they get along better when he is on his back. It is an edgy scene for the era as Powell plays Russia Roulette with Conrad's head. The truth is expelled from Conrad.

Note: Eventually, David Janssen would be connected with three actors from this film. Toomey would revive a similar role during the first season of television's "Richard Diamond."  Janssen carried the Diamond torch at the suggestion of Powell. Of course, William Conrad provided the narration for Janssen's hit series, The Fugitive.

HIGHWAY 301 (1950)

Produced by Bryan Foy with a screenplay by Andrew Stone, who also directed, Warner Brothers released this disturbing eighty-three-minute B-movie noir starring a real-life bad boy, Steven Cochran. The film made a sizable profit. Narration by actor Edmon Ryan, also playing a detective, provides background in pseudo-documentary fashion. Appropriate as this film is a twenty-year update on the crime spree in the Thirties by the Tri-State Gang through the nation's east coast. So the viewer is not exiting the highway that connects three states any time soon. Common for the era of low-budget crime films are comments by three of the east coast's Governors that suggest the tri-state crime is once and for all finished.

The film has all the noir visuals one would expect but it is not perfect. Standard fare in one sense, the film holds one's attention with a well-paced script. Cochran is a ruthless gang leader and cold-blooded killer. The film was a bit of a shocker during its day. His (once) girlfriend is making disparaging remarks about the truth behind the gang's activities. There are startling scenes as he tracks her down in her attempt to leave town. The apartment's elevator ascends to where she waits. As the elevator doors open, he shoots her in the back while she heads for the stairs. Needless to say, the elevator operator is a bit shaky when trying to hit the down button. Noted is the film debut of television's perennial bad guy, Robert Webber. His girl is Gaby André. After discovering the gang's real business, she wants out. There are tense scenes as she attempts to escape from Cochran. Scenes where composer William Lava does his best Dimitri Tiompkin impression. The future gets bleak for two others in the gang after playing dodge bullet with the police. B-movie regular, Richard Egan, has a small role as a fourth wheel in the gang, on-call as needed. Virginia Grey's character cannot be without a portable radio and her favorite program: organ music. Grey provides the wisecracks. With André recovering from a Cochran bullet in the hospital, he devises a ridiculous plan to infiltrate the hospital to finish her off. He thrusts Grey into a role as a newspaper reporter with a handgun and finds herself quickly in over her head with Ryan stationed next to André's room. Her constant lying buries her. After a shootout escaping the hospital, Wally Cassell's character accepts a bullet or two. Cochran meets a more definitive end facing down...well...it is worth the wait.

Note: Virginia Grey always reminded me of a bad composite drawing of Loretta Young and Lucille Ball.