JOHNNY STOOL PIGEON (1949)

It is safe to say this seventy-five-minute American crime drama, directed by William Castle with a screenplay by Robert L. Richards from a story by Henry Jordan, is essentially unknown. The film was produced by Aaron Rosenberg and is a typical effort from Castle before his more infamous “horror” projects. But thanks to the professional casting of Howard Duff and Dan Duryea, it may satisfy the fans of television's Dragnet. The middle section stays fairly upright thanks to the film's bookends of action. Well equipped for the role, Duff works for the US Treasury's narcotics bureau. Echoing Dragnet with a no-nonsense, low-key delivery, his periodic voiceovers fill in any gaps for those who might have dosed off. With handgun drawn, peeking around a brick building, the suspense-filled opening sets up an attempt to crack an international drug ring. But he is going to need help.

Duff wants to suspend Duryea's three-year stay in Alcatraz to become the title character. Not surprisingly, the movie perks up with Duryea's first appearance. To convince him he desperately needs his help, Duff wants him to identify a corpse at the morgue. Duryea is sickened to see that it is his estranged wife, a victim of drug pushers. Though still holding out hope of revenge, he agrees to train Duff to become a tough-talking drug dealer with substantial connections.

Shelly Winters has already met Duff and Duryea. During this era, she was ensconced in “high school dropout” roles, here as a helpless pawn to mob boss, John McIntire, who could play genial or despicable, but rarely in the same film. One of his operatives is a junior hitman played by Tony Curtis, who appears to be puzzled about something during his scenes. The climax provides the other bookend of “thrills” as Duff's undercover is blown—never saw that coming. In the end, Duryea is deserving of a reduced sentence, and Winters. Duff's final voice-over wraps the film.

WORLD FOR RANSOM (1954)

 

Sarcastic gumshoe, Dan Duryea, opens the film under duress from a local racketeer. Duryea yells much of his discouraged dialogue in his trademark high-register voice with its grating quality of whining. Truly the anti-hero, he complains plenty in this film. He appears to live a day-to-day existence, hoping that a positive turn of events is around the next rickshaw. His pal and polar opposite, Patric Knowles, turns out to be a double-crossing coward. His wife is played by newcomer, Marian Carr, whose breathy delivery is a bit annoying as if to give Marilyn Monroe a box office challenge. As a nightclub singer, her single number has er in top hat and tails, about midway between 1930’s Morocco and 1982’s Victor/Victoria. Later in the film, she is constantly weaving fore and aft at the waist as if trying to get enough air to breathe. Also a bit annoying and a possible subtle scene-stealer. Carr’s career was a short one.

Gene Lockhart playing an unbalanced, criminal mastermind is a bit of a stretch. Though accustomed to playing unethical businessmen, his biggest character flaw here is his arrogant, condescending attitude. He wants the secrets to the hydrogen bomb and enlists two thugs to "Shanghai" Arthur Shields, a nuclear scientist. Knowles is in this plot up to his mustache assisting the kidnapping by impersonating a military colonel. Lockhart meets with the ever-so-British Nigel Bruce—the Colonial Governor—and demands five million dollars, a sum Knowles sells his soul to get his hands on. It is Lockhart’s ransom of the century to prevent the nuclear destruction of Singapore and then some, but not the world. As a bonus, he “promises” to release Shields unharmed.

 

The climax is a fairly exciting standoff with a lot of gunplay at the kidnapper’s hideout. Duryea’s desire is to bring the errant Knowles safely back to his wife and with the help of the Major, Reginald Denny, also rescue the scientist. Knowles is not handling the stress well with multiple lies to save his hide. He shoots all his criminal associates, including Lockhart, then turns his attention to Duryea. Self-defense is called for.

The ending between Duryea and Carr is not uplifting, though he gets his face lifted from being slapped a few times. It is the demise of their friendship. She actually had a thing for the scoundrel because he never questioned her shady past. The closing scene, like the opener, has Duryea receiving wisdom from a female fortune-teller, an actress not even credited for an uncredited role.

Note: This film is the assumed continuation of the popular 1950s television series, "China Smith," starring Duryea as a mercenary adventurer. Its main notoriety is its director, Robert Aldrich, who would soon make his mark with an infamous Mike Hammer film the following year. Also, a carryover from television land is the competent—yet forgettable—score by Frank De Vol. The filming was finished well under two weeks and made the most out of a television-restrained budget. Distributed by Allied Artists Productions, it takes a while to get the blood flowing perhaps due to extending a thirty-minute series into an eighty-two-minute movie. Add to this a slightly confusing screenplay by Hugo Butler during the opening scenes. Worth it all is some excellent cinematography work by Joseph Biroc and his use of intriguing points of view and lighting contrast in sweaty Singapore. Not much stands out beyond this, so it becomes an “also-ran” within the film noir archives.

ONE WAY STREET (1950)

For the first twenty-five minutes, this film would appear to have potential as a noir with its dark shadows and moody, waiting game atmosphere of poker. The film starts strong with a wounded criminal, a girl who belongs somewhere, and the whine of Dan Duryea’s voice. But it all falls short during the vast middle, becoming a predictable romantic melodrama. As if you changed channels and stopped on another movie before returning for the final ten minutes of noir. Even with a couple of A-list actors, this disappointing film goes nowhere but south. The opening music theme is befitting a soap opera which should have been my clue.

Perennial double-crosser, Duryea, plays the gangster mastermind of a recent bank job. His partners are William Conrad, King Donovan, and Jack Elam. The latter's brief role is irrelevant, though momentarily (stay with me here) resembles David Letterman after a horrible face plant and botched plastic surgery. Not many mobsters travel with their own doctor, James Mason, who immediately attends to Conrad’s flesh wound. In the mix is Marta Toren, who is supposed to be Duryea’s girl but she has a fondness for medical males. He does not trust the group. Toren in general. Duryea specifically. The slickest setup in the film has Mason giving Duryea something for his headache. A standard procedure after an intense heist. Mason is not exactly a model citizen, either. He closes his medical bag but also the matching bag with the 200 grand. He intends to walk out with both. Guns are drawn on Mason, but with his calm, understated delivery, he tells Duryea the “aspirin” he took will actually put him into convulsions in under two hours. Without the antidote, he will die. All three watch Mason and Toren leave. Donovan is particularly out of sorts over his disappearing share of the loot and in a rage attempts to shoot Mason from their second-story apartment. Duryea, literally, calls the shots in the gang and a bullet releases Donovan’s share. The King is dead. Sweating, Duryea hopes Mason’s long-distance call with the antidote will come true.

The nervous couple is off to Mexico as quickly as possible because the pill Mason gave Duryea was a placebo. The next forty-five minutes is a completely different film. Oddly, it stars both leads from that earlier film. You will have plenty of time to fix that sandwich or wash your car. To be fair, it is not a poorly executed segment and Mason reluctantly uses his medical practice for the locals and livestock. Warming to Toren’s advances, both appear to be living happily ever after. A highlight during the Mexico bits is a priest, played by Basil Ruysdael. He is loved by the locals and becomes a trusted friend to the assumed married couple. His rich bass voice, rye sense of humor and wisdom are endearing. One wonders if Duryea and Conrad have already started work on their next picture because it does not appear as though we will see them again in this one. Thankfully, Mason and Toren want to be free of their past and both think it best to return the money and end this film "noir-like." Many tears are shed by the locals. Understandably, they preferred being part of this film over the bookended parts.

Mason arrives on "a dark and stormy night" to find that Conrad has double-crossed Duryea, mortally wounding him. Conrad demands Mason take the stack of bills out of the leather bag. Stack after stack, Mason complies. But a surprise awaits Conrad with a bullet through the bottom of the bag. Toren rushes to meet Mason in the pouring rain and they embrace. With great relief, he confesses, “I really thought my number was up today.” Never say that at the end of a film noir. Let us just say he should have looked in both directions when crossing that one-way street.