This sixty-seven-minute RKO
Radio Pictures project is a dandy and hardly unknown to film noir
geeks or fans of the lead actors. Suffice to say it is nearly flawless in execution and Charles McGraw
got noticed. Naturally, there are a couple of clichés
that may bring a chuckle or two from Twenty-First Century viewers.
Directed by Richard Fleischer, it displays his penchant for realism
with his early trademarks of location filming and attention to police
procedural details. The latter point well displayed when the
authorities comb the area for clues to where the robbers abandoned their
getaway car. That scene is also enhanced by a lean screenplay with no
wasted dialog. The cinematography is
outstanding as well. The score is not memorable but at least it does
not get in the way of the actors.
You do not want to get on the
bad side of detective, Charles McGraw. He makes no compromises with
criminals and also appears a tad weary of a daily routine of trying
to apprehend them. The opening, low camera closeup of him on a phone
call sets up his persona. Ruggedly handsome with a face chiseled from
stone and just about as animated. He plays it exactly how his
character should be. His gravel voice helped define his film destiny,
though. He had no fear of competing against the likes of Danny Kaye
for a musical comedy. Today, his voice and maturity may have had
him auditioning with the likes of Liam Neeson.
He and fellow partner,
James Flavin, are called to the less famous Wrigley Field. The one in
Los Angeles used by the farm team of the Chicago Cubs. Both
detectives are miffed it is another false
alarm. In reality, it was William “He’s got Bette Davis eyes”
Tallman who called in the fake alarm in a pre-robbery timing to
discover how long it takes for the police to get there. Assuming they left on time and there was no heavy traffic to delay them, I guess.
Tallman was adept at playing
despicable criminals before he turned over a new leaf, went to law
school and met Perry Mason. He has no
sympathy for the mortally wounded Fowley. To help him forget this
pain and give them a chance to get through a clichéd
roadblock, Tallman angrily slaps his face a few times. After the
officers look over their car and give them the go-ahead, Brodie
cannot get the car started. A tension "device" used
countless times in crime movies. Once at their hideout, Fowley,
gasping for life, demands a doctor and his share of the loot. Tallman
gives him a final parting gift. Three bullets. He later gives Brodie
a lesson about who is boss. After punching him in the stomach, he
violently takes both hands, clapping them hard against both sides of
Brodie’s head, potentially rupturing his eardrums. It is shocking and
perhaps the first time the violent act was used on film. But used again by the director in a John Payne crime story.
Jergens plays her usual role,
though her employment changed from film to film. This time she is a
burlesque queen. Brodie stops in the burlesque house in hopes
of getting his money from her. McGraw is there with handcuffs and both men miss the entire
performance. With no fear of the murder wrap,
Brodie spills the truth about Tallman. McGraw’s young new partner, Don McQuire, volunteers to take Brodie’s place and meet
“the queen.” A solid plan except Tallman knows his partner is
locked up. His gun is there to meet McQuire outside the
establishment. Jergen's wired car allows the detective to audibly send
location points to the tailing patrol car. Tallman is suspicious of
these hints and tells him to get out, whose life is then saved by
Jergens, preventing Tallman from firing a second time. Or third. Or a
fourth, just to be sure.
The lovebirds attempt a
getaway via a chartered plane. Tallman, not happy the plane has been
recalled back to the terminal, threatens the pilot at gunpoint. This
is always pretty silly and Hollywood still does it. If he shoots the
pilot they are going nowhere. Tallman grabs the suitcase of loot and
in his panic does not see (or apparently hear) a taxiing DC-3. The suggested prop divides the cash and him up in small denominations. A
happy ending for McGraw. Well, not so much, judging by the grimace on
his face. The happy part is when he shares a news article with
McQuire, recovering from that gunshot wound. It is all about their
success in the robbery. Both officers are mentioned at the bottom of
the article and as the young partner starts reading he pretends his
name is so minuscule he has to get really close to the page to see it.
They both laugh.
Note: For a limited role,
Don McQuire (above) does a fine job. He and McGraw hit it off by the end.
Today, this movie might have had a sequel based on their chemistry if
the studio gambled to make more money. But things were
pleasantly different in 1950.