THE DARK CORNER (1946)

It is hard to find flaws in this quintessential film-noir directed by Henry Hathaway. The opening theme may sound familiar. "Manhattan Melody" was used for many New York films of the Forties. Hats off to the sometimes witty and sharp, cutting dialogue by screenwriters Schoenfeld and Dratler, based on a story in Good Housekeeping by Leo Rosten. The cinematography by Joseph MacDonald is a textbook example of film noir. He puts the noir in film noir. A clever example is when we see William Bendix, in a white suit, juxtaposed with Mark Stevens' dark silhouette in an adjoining room, as if in a split-screen or a positive-negative effect. It also suggests that men who wear white are not necessarily the good guys. Not a big success during its first run but it has gained high praise in hindsight.

As a private investigator, Mark Stevens is a falsely accused ex-con trying to run a legitimate private investigator business. His character is on edge most of the film, disgruntled by an undeserved prison term. It is easy to figure out Stevens’ career potential, here billed as "the new tough guy." He is not a fan of compromising when he should be and he delivers a strong performance. He was on everyone’s radar after this film, catapulting him from "under the radar" roles at Warner Bros. Fred MacMurray, originally set to star, would not have pulled off the pint-up anger and edginess of Stevens, also in hindsight. Yet Stevens never made the A-list. Lucille Ball is somewhat the female equivalent in films. She is his newly hired secretary and best ally. They hit it off right from the start. Ball got lost at Twentieth Century Fox during this period competing with similar actresses with not enough uniqueness to draw attention. The new medium of television was around another corner where she will completely obliterate these roles and never look back.

Stevens is being tailed by William Bendix. After a brutal confrontation, Bendix falsely confesses he is working for Kurt Krueger, Stevens’ former partner and corrupt lawyer who set him up for prison. Stevens, with Ball’s help, attempts to uncover what appears to be Krueger setting up Stevens for another fall. But Bendix is in cahoots with Clifton Webb, a wealthy art gallery owner. Webb knows his pretty wife prefers the younger Krueger and his possessive nature will not let him share any of his valuable works of art. Whether inanimate or not.

Webb suggests that Bendix plan an unannounced visit at Stevens' office and also talks Krueger into seeing Stevens the same night. After a brief struggle, Bendix gives Stevens his ether handkerchief, then murders the next person expected through the door, Krueger. The frame is set for the unconscious Stevens. Rather than pay off Bendix, Webb dispenses with him for his screen finale. It would appear Webb has tied up all the loose ends. Stevens starts putting two and three together and confronts Webb at his gallery. The condescending Webb is in for a big surprise.

Note: The film ends on a lighter note. While Stevens is being cleared of any wrongdoing at the gallery, two Brooklyn cops contemplate a Donatello statue. Not a word from either for quite a while until the first officer wonders, “Imagine anyone in their right mind ever buying a piece of junk like that?” His partner, lacking any sophistication replies in a Brooklyn gravel voice, “Shoeuh they do. That is ahht.”

COUNTERPLOT (1959)

Forrest Tucker and Allison Hayes together at last! A stale tale of murder, a conniving lawyer and an expressionless boy in one sleepy location, Puerto Rico. The United Artists film is, literally, a real sleeper with opening music by Paul Sawtell and Bert Shefter that has all the sentimentalism deserving of this movie. Jackie Wayne plays the young errand boy looking out for Tucker who is in hiding from an assumed murder. Judging by the dark makeup, Wayne is supposed to be a native "San Juanian." He seems to worship Tucker and he likes their “just guys” arrangement. No icky women around. Tucker frequently scolds him for not doing what he is told, however.

Nightclub singer and icky woman, Hayes, has a past with Tucker and Wayne thinks she is the reason for Tucker’s trouble. Upon her arrival, she and Wayne spot each other but he does not initially acknowledge her. His lie about Tucker’s whereabouts is not convincing. Hayes is soon addressed by another familiar face, corrupt lawyer, Gerald Milton, the San Juan Shyster. The burly actor with his clear, commanding voice never uses contractions when speaking. It reminds me of one who commands people to do their bidding. A delivery that is two-thirds sultan and one-third Tonto. Even though Hayes says she is back to perform at her former gig, he suspects she is in town to find Tucker. Their cat-and-mouse conversation reveals more about Milton than the location of Tucker.

Milton comes to Tucker’s legitimate aid, however, keeping his hiding place secret from the adhesive-mustached Richard Verney, a business partner of the man murdered. With a tempting offer to represent him legally, Milton gets Verney to spill his guts about who actually committed the murder. All the while being secretly recorded by Milton. In retrospect, Tucker decked Verney’s partner during insults and feared his fall to the floor accidentally killed him. Tucker fled. Watching from another room, Verney finished off his partner to inherit the (no kidding) Acme insurance policy against his death. He is killed with a most gentle, choreographed head pounding against the floor which actually looked like he was trying to wake him. Wake up, little buddy! Clearly irritated with most anyone, Verney delivers his lines with a tight-lipped, disgruntled delivery of his best bad guy impression. His tenor voice sounds amateurish as many of his lines trail off to a whining end.

Milton’s assistant and legman, Miguel Angel Alvarez, double-crosses him and tells Verney where Tucker is hiding. Milton struggles to get control of Alvarez’s gun. When The Shyster bends over to retrieve it, he gets a letter opener in the back. Milton is able to get two shots off with a final, 'You interfered. I make payment.' Him plenty dead, now. Meanwhile, to prevent Tucker’s death by Verney’s gun, the boy shoots him in the arm with Tucker’s gun. Tucker later tells the boy that today he has become a man...his first shooting. He pours a “shot” of whiskey for each of them and teases him to take the drink. The boy is confused. Hesitant. He quickly puts down the drink in embarrassment. Tucker laughs at him. We do not know what happens with the boy after Tucker and the icky woman get back together. But that laugh probably took the boy some time to leave it behind.

Note: One funny editing note. As Hayes finishes her song, accepting applause, the camera cuts to Tucker’s face and then back to Hayes who is now in a completely different dress. Therein lies the popularity of her club act. The ability to change clothes on stage so fast that no one can see her do it. David Copperfield would be incredulous!