HOODLUM EMPIRE (1952)

This ninety-eight-minute “noirette” is directed by Joseph Kane and produced by Herbert J. Yates, founder of Republic Pictures, known for his many Westerns. There is an opening score by Nathan Scott—father of legendary saxophonist and composer Tom Scott—that sets a dramatic tone for the film. The word “hoodlum” is in the title but this is not an action film. It is another entry inspired by the Kefauver Committee, a special committee of the United States Senate (1950-51) that investigated organized crime with Senate hearings, displayed as usual in a semi-documentary style. Overall there is nothing new here and much of it clichéd. A strong performance by Luther Adler elevates the film.

Flashbacks can be appropriate or annoying, seen as a crutch to help a weak script's flow. But the frequent flashbacks here are imperative with the obvious benefit of shortening a boring Senate hearing. Though the first one may stretch your patience, each establishes facts about the past from first-hand knowledge. Facts that run contrary to two gangster's testimonies. Giving a near over-the-top performance during the hearings is one Senator, played by the bulldog-faced Gene Lockhart, whose angry response to the evasive answers received from the mob boss even made my face red.

The other positives are respectable performances by the central cast of John Russell, Brian Donlevy, Claire Trevor, and Forrest Tucker, with Vera Ralston, the real-life Mrs. Yates, holding her own away from the ice rink. After his uncredited roles in the 1940s, Russell somewhat split his early screen time between bad and good guy roles. His dangerously handsome looks—eyes as slits and the occasional angry furrowed V-brow—worked well for shady characters. He handles this role well, with a diverse range of restrained emotions. Trevor is once again a wisecracking third wheel in a losing romantic triangle between her former gangster boyfriend, Russell, and Ralston, a French woman he fell for overseas. Russell had his life's priorities immeasurably altered by his combat experiences. He is now engaged to be married and wants nothing more to do with the gambling racket.

Adler is accustomed to playing underworld figures and flawlessly sells the character of an iron-fisted mob boss who thinks he is invincible. He is also the uncle who raised Russell, putting the "hood" in childhood—the best uncle you could imagine as long as he gets his way. His mood swings can be sudden and violent. Just as ruthless is the tall Tucker, his gunman with zero sanctity for life. Unknown to Adler, Trevor secretly records his meetings from another office. That does not go over so well during the violent climax. In an underhanded move to keep Russell on the payroll, Adler forges Russell's name to every racketeering operation, clouding efforts to clear himself. Also not letting go is Donley, Russell's former commanding officer, now the lead Senator of the hearings. Wounded and under anesthesia, Russell deliriously blurts out some associated crime tidbits which is overheard by Donlevy in the Army's medical tent in the first flashback. His assumptions plague Russell throughout the film.

Time flies when not being flashbacked: Russell and his wife now have two children and his gas station business is thriving. But the mob attempts to force two one-arm-bandit machines inside the station's waiting room. Russell's old Army buddy and station partner, Phillip Pine, refuses the “offer” then takes a beating before Russell and two other vets return. One fist at a time they dispense with the mob goons and throw the machines to the pavement. Adler is not pleased and later visits Russell at his home. The reunion niceties are short-lived. He quietly, almost sweetly, threatens Russell's entire family while standing over their newborn's crib. Ralston's flashback confirms his visit, which he denied under oath. The truth wins out and Donlevy's public apology for his mistreatment and skepticism about Russell rapidly ends the film with an elevated camera view of the Senate room.

TEEN AGE THUNDER (1957)

This seventy-eight-minute film—with night scenes lit by a 40-watt bulb—is another HOWCO International film specializing in low-budget double feature movies. Lost, Lonely and Vicious was another of their films that I have skewered. That film is so bad I thought it should have been released as HOWCOME International. Directed, written and produced by guys who knew enough to get things rolling, this particular film is a couple of rungs above on the professional ladder. It is added to a long line of misunderstood hot rod teen films in the attempt to cash in on the original, Rebel Without A Cause, from two years prior. According to the movie's opening narration, hot rod racing is the nation's fastest-growing sport and it is pronounced, "drag-RACING" not today's "DRAG-racing."

The casting budget for this film did not make a dent in production costs. The twenty-seven-year-old Western supporting actor Chuck Courtney plays an eighteen-year-old. His “method acting” captures a lonely, unhappy high school senior. Down the professional scale is the monotonous, singsong delivery of Melinda Byron, Courtney's girl and waitress at the local diner. Doing much better with leading man stature is Robert Fuller, who plays a braggert with an ego larger than his flat-head V-8. He and Courtney have a thing: they hate each other. In real life, Fuller is three years younger than Courtney, too young for a driver's license! Yet the assumption is he is older, perhaps dropping out of school two years sooner. He does have a letter jack, but no achievement letters sewn on. Playing a pivotal part is Paul Bryar. With a long career as a supporting player, he is the most genuine actor in this film. As he was often cast, he played a policeman in the aforementioned Dean classic.

Courtney's widowed father is a hard-lined disciplinarian showing little affection for his non-commital son. The boy slouches at the dinner table and wears a T-shirt during supper. It could not possibly get much worse. Well, jail time would figure in. Living under the same roof is the father's sister who tries to reason with her narrow-minded brother when sparks fly. In the end, the adults teach errant teenagers little about taking responsibility for their actions.

God's gift to hot rodders shifts his charm into high gear for the affections of Miss Byron during a lunch with Courtney. Not liking the company, she persuades Courtney to drive her home in her brother's old car. The subsequent filming nearly suggests Guy Ritchie's hand-held camerawork to create the shaky sensation of speed as Fuller blasts past them. Courtney's attempt to keep up shows the speedometer's needle also blasting from 50 to 80 mph in about two seconds—2025 Corvette ZR-1 territory, buddy!

There is a listing for a job opening at a Mobil gas station owned by Bryar, currently building a hot rod. The high schooler now has a father figure who understands burning rubber off tires and wasting fuel a quarter mile at a time. Later, the even-tempered mechanic gives some valuable advice to Courtney's father on how to be one. With some inner confessions, Dad turns the corner at Reality and Shame. He learns his son got clobbered by Fuller and Dad wants to teach him how to defend himself. Turns out, 'ol dad was a middle-weight boxing champion in college. Dad's lesson with boxing gloves has him feeling like a champion again. Knocking his son to the grass a few times feels pretty good. A second lesson is not happening.

Fuller challenges the introvert to a drag race for Byron's honor—what to do, what to do?! Courtney lies about his age to a used car salesman, Bing Russell, and lies about just going around the block for a test drive. I am beginning to side with his father. Courtney calls to inform him he will return the car the next morning. Russell is irate. He had a big date. He is the antithesis of a stereotypical used car salesman and no charges are filed. Ahh...to live in the early twentieth century when common sense overruled suing. The law offices of "Fuller & Courtney" meet with the former suggesting they drive towards each other at top speed in near cave darkness. Cool. Showing more courage than either driver, Byron intervenes by standing in the middle of the road, causing both idiots to do the “Byron Swerve.” She promptly faints.

Courtney steals the hot rod from the gas station. The Mobil owner planned to drive it in the upcoming drag race in place of his son, afflicted with Polio. Putting wisdom forefront, Bryar has faith the man/boy took the rod to put Fuller in his place. Never mind about zero drag strip experience. It is a no-brainer who beats who, which is edited as if it is a mile-long track, Full-of-it Fuller falsely accuses his competitor of trying to wreak him—the excuse for losing. Both actors were trained stuntmen so they pull off a pretty realistic fistfight. Courtney's single boxing lesson pays off as he pictures Fuller as his dad. Pop buys the hot rod for his favorite son and drives it home. To Courtney's delight, Dad gets the speeding ticket instead.

Notes: The title song is performed well by David Houston (1935-1993). The song is also used during the first trip to the Front Page diner where teens seem to think it is a tune you could possibly dance to. He is credited as the star of RCA Victor Recording in the fashion of a Frankie Avalon or Bobby Rydell of the period. But Houston's mark was on the country music charts, finding huge success in the 1960s.

Chuck Courtney gained a splash of notoriety initially by playing the visiting nephew of the Lone Ranger for several episodes before this film. With a couple of exceptions, he is best known for his supporting roles in countless Westerns. Another actor getting his start in the Western was popular television leading man, Robert Fuller. He gained stardom for television's Laramie, Wagon Train and Emergency!.

ABANDONED (1949)

When I began my selected movie reviews in 2015, I never imagined I would comment on eight films starring the same actor. A record. Dennis O'Keefe had an authentic acting style and a knack for delivering charm and witty quips like few others. Using a few pseudonyms, he was also an under-the-radar screenwriter. From my perspective, O'Keefe hits all the right buttons in my B-movie world.

Distributed by Universal Pictures, this seventy-nine-minute film is a police versus crime melodrama like many others. But the subject matter sets this film apart. William Daniels' cinematography raises the bar, as does Joseph Newman's rapid pace directing. As per the era, camera filters transform daylight into nighttime. The film stars Dennis O'Keefe, Gale Storm and Jeff Chandler. O'Keefe appears to extend his character from the film Cover Up, of the same year, with his oft-used charming, witty characters. I would have liked more of a balance between this and his previous T-Men role. Storm restrains her typical bubbly light performances, while Chandler's periodic appearance as a no-nonsense police chief fits him. He also provides opening and periodic voice-over narration for a pseudo-documentary style as if ripped from actual cases. 

Storm inquires about her lost sister at the missing person's bureau at the city hall. Happening upon the scene is crack news reporter, O'Keefe, who overhears the conversation and charmingly offers his services to help her locate her sister, sensing a headline story or maybe hoping for a date. William Bowers' snappy dialogue has several characters delivering witty quips, but none more often or naturally than O'Keefe. He and Storm team up—after a fashion—and he is compelled to test some witty quips out on her. Expect an eventual "get to know each other" moment with small talk as they stake out a residence inside his sedan. Oh yeah...they like each other. 

Someone is tracking them and it sets up another set of clever dialogue. Raymond Burr is yanked from behind and the reporter lifts a revolver from Burr's coat and sarcastically states, "I know. You couldn't sleep so you just decided to take your gun out for a walk." The private eye's client has him also trying to find the sister's whereabouts. The three head for the city morgue and discover the sister is no longer missing, an assumed suicide victim. The sister's out-of-wedlock baby establishes the controversial crux of the film, a baby black market of illegal adoptions. Burr's client is society matron, Marjorie Rambeau, the despicable ring leader of a criminal crew, led by the menacing Will Kuluva. 

Under assumed names as a married couple, O'Keefe and Storm arrange the adoption of her niece with the two-faced Rambeau—suddenly all sweetness. She spends her off-hours distributing Bibles as cover for her operation. The anticipation of leaving the racket and a large payoff, Burr intercepts the transfer and Storm is given the baby and instructed to wait at the house until further notice. Burr is now up to his neck in Kuluva. Not being a very stealthy private detective, he is apprehended by the gangster and undergoes matchbook armpit torture to extract facts. A first (and last?) in film torture to my knowledge. Burr quickly becomes useless to Rambeau. With a knock at the room's door, Storm just opens it without asking who it is, assuming it is O'Keefe. Thus begins the climax, the only tense action in the film, with an implausible car crash and Universal International's gunshot sound effects. Narration closes the story with, "...This did happen in the city which may be your home."

Note: Some who discover this film more recently tend to be cynical about the production, impatiently finding it boring. Interestingly, the reviews closer to the release date are generally more favorable. Though mid-century film aspects are dated today, the acting and character development can stand the test of time. One should understand the historical era to give a fair assessment.