FOLLOW ME QUIETLY (1949)

GULLIBILITY OF A DUMMY

This RKO Pictures semi-documentary noir, directed by Richard Fleischer, is a tidy sixty minutes worth of routine crime-solving with a couple of questionable twists. Fellow director, Anthony Mann, shared story credit with Francis Rosenwald. Lillie Hayward provided the screenplay, which, in a couple of scenes, packs an emotional punch. I find no fault with the well-cast lineup of actors or the wonderful moods set by the shadowy cinematography. The story centers around a serial killer, known only as "The Judge" and his stereotypical messages of individually clipped letters pasted on an otherwise blank sheet of paper. He is both judge and jury as to who is evil, murdering them whenever it rains after the sun's setting. Alas, there would be less murdering if he lived in Tucson.

A police Lieutenant, handsome William Lundigan, is assigned to track down the killer with the help of his partner, the less handsome, Jeff Corey. In the mix is a persistent young reporter, Dorothy Patrick, who works for a tabloid magazine with a sensationalistic reputation. Lundigan is not a fan. Patrick, at times a facial mix of the more famous Ginger Rogers, Priscilla Lane and Eve Arden, is pressing him for a scoop on the killings, much to his annoyance.

The most implausible element in the film starts with a detailed, full-body sketch to identify the killer—seen only from behind—and by the type of suit he wears. The film breaks with police routine—and reason—when Lundigan goes to great lengths to create a faceless manikin based on the sketch, blowing the police department's entire Christmas budget. Lundigan then has the manikin face the wall in their lineup—its back facing the policemen—as Corey bizarrely questions it with the dummy’s “answers” prerecorded, based on clues obtained about the killer to that point. The forty-five-second presentation is a real eye-opener. Somehow. Suspects are rounded up based on rear views and placed beside the manikin. Lundigan becomes the judge as to whether or not a suspect might be the killer. The department is only missing a face to go with the suit.

Wait. This is the most implausible element in the film. The blank-faced manikin's photograph is distributed to neighborhood bookstores—on Patrick's advice—in hopes they might identify the customer Lundigan seeks. Understandably, the face is rather vague, but one shop owner says this customer wore glasses. Lundigan draws round eyeglass frames on the blank face. Nailed it. This narrows their search to any male approached from behind of average height with round-framed glasses.

Wait. Wait. Lest I forget an earlier scene. Alone in his unlit, dark office, Lundigan audibly questions the seated dummy from behind, searching for definitive clues. It is raining as the camera zooms in on his face, suggesting he is at a breaking point. In walks Corey telling him to ease up. 'If you want to talk to a dummy, talk to me.' After both detectives leave the office, the “dummy” pivots slightly—still faceless to the audience—pushing the gullibility envelope in a preposterously risky move by “The Judge.” Obviously, he is not a heavy breather or wearing smoke-infused clothing. A slick scene with a believability factor at absolute zero.

Lundigan and Corey stake out the murderer’s apartment building from an empty room. When we first see the face of the serial killer, Edwin Max, he cautiously approaches the building. This skittish guy does not fit the profile of one who would mockingly toy with Lundigan in his office. He dashes off with both detectives in pursuit. The climax is a foot chase in an oil refinery among giant pipes, catwalks, and stairways to clichėd heights. Leonid Raab’s score cranks up to a crescendo as the police arrive and take aim at Max with a machine gun, bursting water pipes left and right. Totally spent from running and with no place to go, Max is cornered by Lundigan. He puts one end of the handcuffs on the killer but fails to attach the other end to himself. The following scene would not work if he had. He instructs him, 'Follow me, quietly.' When Max attempts to walk under the leaking pipes, however, the pouring water sends him into a violent rage and he viciously tries to escape, compromising Lundigan’s grip on the handcuffs. The police chalk up Max's fall—and his body outline—to water torture.