OPEN SECRET (1948)

There is a strong film noir atmosphere established in this film even before the opening credits roll. The cryptic dialogue among a masquerading band of patriotic poker players is both intriguing and confusing. Some great camera work by George Robinson in this opening scene. Among them is second-tier actor, King Donovan, in his first movie role. The viewer is probably hooked at this point. This is another film of the era about antisemitism coming after World War II and it has its place. Distributed by Eagle-Lion Films for Marathon Pictures, the entire cast accounts for themselves quite well. Inevitably compared to other major studios' expensively produced antisemitic films, this portrays hate from within a low-income, less-educated crowd. There is not much to fault during its sixty-seven minutes with John Ireland about to hit Hollywood star status for his role in Red River the same year.

Newlyweds Ireland and Jane Randolph, acting on an invitation, travel for a stay with Ireland's World War II buddy, now working as a photographer. But he cannot be found. His apartment has been ransacked—a frequent occurrence—but Ireland suspects something more sinister than mere robbery. Anne O’Neal stands out as the busy-body, yet gracious, landlady of Ireland's friend. The actress who may be the most frequently misidentified as Margaret Hamilton of Wicked Witch fame. While Ireland goes off in search of his buddy, he asks if he would have dinner with his wife to keep her company. O’Neal says that is awfully nice but she is on a diet. Apparently, she only eats once a week.

After shooting a few rolls of film, Ireland gets them developed and printed. He is unaware there is an extra film role included by Randolph. Frames were taken by his buddy with incriminating evidence of an antisemitic murder. George Tyne has a pivotal role as a Jewish camera shop owner who is regularly harassed. The thugs want that film and track down Ireland’s buddy to get it. The couple soon realizes the problem as they encounter uneducated, myopic thinkers. Randolph does not understand how people can behave this way. Ireland tries to explain in a foretelling bit of scriptwriting about Twenty-First Century liberals. 'I guess some people can't live without hating. The only way they can feel superior. Some people hate because they're stupid. Some hate because they're told to.'

Though initially skeptical of Ireland's theory, Sheldon Leonard agrees to look into finding the missing buddy. Leonard is one laid-back detective, totally in control and unflappable. Also a guy with empathy for local delinquents. It would have been fun to have him reprise his role in a film series based around his character, though he was more often associated with the opposite side of the law given his trademarked gangster vocal delivery. One thing is for sure, Leonard is a great marksman. He casually nails a fleeing bigot more than once while he is escaping down an alley. All at a sizable distance leaning out Ireland’s apartment window. The cinematography stands out again during a cemetery gravesite scene for Ireland's buddy, killed for getting too close to the opinionated. All the standing attendees are in dark silhouettes against a contrasting light sky, giving off an eerie vibe.

Ireland infiltrates the bigotry boys club led by the sometimes lovable, but not here, Arthur O'Connell. Ireland's identity is soon discovered and a closing fistfight in near-total darkness. With the film’s budget on the producer’s mind, that darkness may have hidden the need for any re-shooting. The ending has a confident Leonard walking the urban neighborhood at night knowing they are safer than when the film began.

Note: Herschel Burke Gilbert was a monumental force in early television music scores. He was the first to provide an original score for a television series, the popular western, “The Rifleman,” where lead characters had their own cues for funny, sad, or dangerous scenes. This soundtrack was reworked in 1952 into a library of music cues for several shows of the era, the most obvious may be, “The Adventures of Superman.”

MONEY MADNESS (1948)

This bargain-basement, seventy-three-minute film noir, distributed by Film Classics, opens with one of the most poorly executed flashbacks I have seen...um...not seen. We witness young Frances Rafferty standing before the judge as he passes out her ten-year sentence for being an accessory to robbery and murder. A reporter makes a call, telling the person on the line you never know who will get off the next bus. There are no wavy, ghostly transition film frames to suggest a time shift. What the viewer actually sees is a bus coming to a stop. Out steps the movie’s lead, Hugh Beaumont, against type with an out-of-balance personality. One might logically assume it is ten years later, after Rafferty’s release. Essentially, the movie begins after the end. Overall, for the mad money spent, the film is not half bad. More like one-third bad. But do not blame the cast.

The music underlying the opening scenes with Beaumont, who is convincing in this role, is just too whimsical. Its use is totally mindless for his character and for what is about to unfold. The viewer suspects he is up to no good yet he seems so Cleaverish. After he gets a job as a taxi driver, his charm flows directly, by pure happenstance, in Rafferty’s direction. She is burdened by the care for her selfish, bitter aunt who always moans or fakes an attack of some sort when her niece attempts to go out. Beaumont wins them both over with Rafferty becoming his bride in whirlwind fashion. She likes that he seems different. Not like the others. At about the twenty-five-minute mark she discovers her husband is psychotic. Absolutely nothing like the others. He needs a place to hide his unearned cash—two hundred grand—temporarily held in a bank’s safe deposit box. An old suitcase in the aunt’s attic is the perfect location for the money transfer. Thanks to bipolar Beaumont, the aunt comes down with a bout of death, leaving the estate and an attic surprise in Rafferty’s inheritance.

When Rafferty meets with her attorney concerning the will, he senses she is distracted by something. Still using her maiden name, he unknowingly asks her for dinner. Every male in town is hitting on this attractive female. Naturally, Beaumont might take a cleaver to her if he finds out, so she declines, missing her first chance to escape her torture. As Beaumont has already reminded her, she cannot testify against her husband anyway. The attorney later meets with an elderly citizen who speculates about that taxi driver. This bit of gossip and the newspaper headline photos of the three robbers have the attorney wondering if one might be Beaumont, who obviously has had an extreme makeover since that photo was taken. In suspended disbelief, the photo is taken to a photo lab and he asks them to remove the mustache, clean up the pockmarked face, do the eyebrows this way, and take all the shadows out. This they do. They also changed his lips to give him a more amused expression and rotated his head slightly. No extra charge. It all happens in a matter of seconds as the original photo transforms right before our very eyes in a blurry “flash-forward” transition. Exactly how a flashback should be done. Only in reverse.

Beaumont is there to greet one of the robbers with a revolver. Long before Al Pacino, Beaumont refers to his gun as, “My little friend, here." Before releasing a bullet from the chamber he has the wife turn up the radio’s volume, apparently with the belief all three of them will not hear the gunshot inside the house. Like a young child closing his or her eyes believing they cannot be seen. Beaumont tells his wife to get rid of the dead man’s car and hands her the keys. Logically, this might be a great opportunity for her to get out of this nightmare. She could just keep on driving or go to the police with her story. But not in any dim-witted Hollywood script. Escape number two is obliterated.

Our mental patient gets all melancholy after that murder and insists, above all else, he really loves Rafferty. Sure. When the attorney arrives at the house of the “happy” couple, Beaumont once again asks his wife to turn up the volume on the radio ‘cause he’s in a shootin’ mood. Fortunately, a patrol car happens by and hears the raucous party with Artie Shaw music. The good news, Beaumont will not have to serve any time in prison. The bad news, Rafferty is about to start the beginning of the film.