THE MOB (1951)

This Columbia Pictures release, directed by Robert Parish with an adapted screenplay by William Bowers, is first-rate from beginning to end. A compelling film about corruption, mental delusions, and atonement. Bower’s script bounces humorous quips from one character to another as one might expect from a film noir of this caliber. Nearly everyone has a turn at them. The cinematography by Joseph Walker is rich with wet streets and dark, danger-filled shadows. The well-versed George Duning provided an effective music score, as well.

Police detective, Broderick Crawford, is duped by a mob killer carrying an authentic police badge who appeared to be coming to the aid of a shooting victim. Crawford discovers too late the victim was a key witness in an upcoming hearing. The police commissioner is livid and would like to punish Crawford for his halfhearted effort to double-check the true identity of the impostor/gunman. For news headline purposes only, accompanied by a fake picture, he is “suspended.” His real punishment is a demanded death-defying undercover assignment to infiltrate a rough New York waterfront crime organization and bring down its kingpin. 

Needing to redeem his career, Crawford's acting trademark allows him to fit right in as a tough, sarcastic and unflappable thug from New Orleans. His noir quips are expelled effortlessly through his legendary lightning delivery. Also on the waterfront payroll is Richard Kiley. He and Crawford become pals. It does not take Kiley long, however, to frequently question why Crawford is so interested in what goes on. A relatively unknown Hollywood entity at this point in his career, Kiley is very authentic in this role. Crawford drops a few key names that get the attention of a Union thug, Ernest Borgnine. Neville Brand, nearly at a typecast level in his career, is again playing a henchman. This time, not the psychotic “Chester” from D.O.A. but a thug with the wherewithal to also deliver a few quips of his own.

Local bartender, Matt Crowley, seems to know a lot about what goes on around the waterfront. For a fee. After frequent encounters, he feels Crawford can be trusted enough to set up a meeting with Blackie, the kingpin. The police put a tracking device under Crowley’s car about the size of a carry-on suitcase. Also installed is an equally sized tank that cleverly drips fluorescent dye on the road so the police can tail the car at night using an infrared spotlight. Cool. Except they did not figure a city street sweeper would turn onto their street a few blocks ahead of them. Just one of the many clever twists in this film you will not expect.

Blackie wants Crawford to do him a favor. Kill the suspended police officer seen in the newspaper. In a twist to end all twists, then, Crawford is hired to do a hit on himself. Blackie has kidnapped Crawford’s girlfriend, Betty Buehler, to use as a pawn to flesh out her boyfriend, who, unknowingly, stands before him. Twisted. When she and Crawford meet, their roles are played as effectively as possible. The scenario becomes potentially too dangerous and Crawford tries to overpower Blackie, who escapes with a minor gunshot wound. A hospital setting ends the film with both Buehler and Blackie recovering. Blackie later enters her hospital room at gunpoint while Crawford is visiting. From an adjacent building, the police have a clear shot through the window.

Note: There is a humorous scene when Kiley sets up a blind date for Crawford to find out what Crawford’s game is. The women in waiting are Kiley’s wife, played by Lynn Baggettt, and his sister, Doris, played by Jean Alexander. Crawford immediately hooks up with the more attractive wife. It seems no one wants to be with the sister. Especially Kiley, who protests. He says there is nothing wrong with Doris. “Why can’t he like Doris?!” The sister quickly adds, “Why can’t somebody?” After numerous teasing lines between Baggett and Crawford, the sister turns to her brother, “Well, say something to me.” Kiley hesitates then awkwardly replies, “Oh...uh..how ya’ been?”

CHICAGO SYNDICATE (1955)

There is a crowded Chicago commuter trainload of details to sift through during this average B-movie from Clover Productions, distributed by Columbia Pictures. The voice-over details in documentary-style plus the added dialogue make it difficult to keep things straight at times. Probably does not matter. I have grown to appreciate Dennis O’Keefe's talents. His character here, through no fault of his own, is probably too amazing to be real. He knocks down the analytical accountant stereotype of a numbers cruncher. A Chicago newspaper editor, civic leaders, along with a detective, the ubiquitous John Zaremba, want him to go undercover to flesh out the syndicate responsible for killing a bookkeeper who had evidence on the syndicate’s boss, Paul Stewart. Feeling they have the wrong guy for the job, O’Keefe is totally against the dangers associated with the idea. They plan to pay him sixty grand to do it. He gives it a try. O'Keefe handles everything like an experienced secret agent. Cool under pressure and light on his feet. Fists of iron. Pencils with no erasers. Stewart is excellent as a seemingly good-natured crime czar whose only love comes from his mother. The suave insurance scammer has little fear but his patience has its limits. He can be vicious. O’Keefe’s plan is to capture assumed microfilm to put Stewart away on tax evasion.

Speaking of hard to believe, Allison Hayes’ role has her going undercover, on her own initiative, using an alias to avenge her bookkeeping father’s death at the hand of Stewart. This is after spending time in a mental institution over the traumatic event and subsequent suicide of her mother. She has recovered very quickly. O’Keefe befriends her to gain access to Stewart’s nightclub. Once he is informed of who she really is, he suggests she stay out of harm’s way. But Hayes comes in handy. O’Keefe’s amazing accounting expertise places him in good favor with Stewart after the police arrange a jewel theft and nifty insurance scam.

Double-billed with O'Keefe is Abby Lane, Stewart’s tolerable girl. She drinks too much when she is not performing with her real-life husband, Xavier Cugat. The squinty-eyed, rotund devil had a thing for a woman over thirty years his younger. Cugat was given some lines to say. Yay. With numerous roles already under her strapless gowns, Lane does alright in the part. You may find yourself singing her opening number, “One At a Time,” long after the ending. O'Keefe suggests Hayes cater to Stewart's social weaknesses which makes Lane jealous, who then threatens to reveal Stewart’s edited books. His goons do a sixty-second beating in a separate room in full earshot of all the dinner guests. Awkward. Lane comes out of the room instantly bruised by a lot of strategically placed dark, smudgy makeup and tousled hair.

In a bit of a nail-biter, Zaremba and the police arrive to catch Stewart with his account book on a tip from O'Keefe. To his dismay, Stewart burns the pages in his mommy's wood stove. With the expected knock on the door, O’Keefe volunteers to answer it. To not blow his cover, he decks Zaremba. Now horizontal, he whispers to him that the book has been burned. Both men pull off the charade. As I say, one amazing accountant. Kind of funny when Zaremba tries to enter the room, though, as he does a comical triple take as if confused. What the...hey! Stewart knows Zaremba well but O'Keefe covers the incident by telling him he thought he was trouble. Lane's hidden microfilm evidence is revealed but Stewart tells O’Keefe to light a match to it. Instead, he pockets the microfilm, gives Stewart a knuckle sandwich, and makes a run for it. As if expecting her son to come by any moment, from her upstairs apartment window Mom witnesses Stewart being brought down by police gunfire. He was such a good boy.