THE FAT MAN (1951)

Universal Pictures released this crime film noir based on the popular five-year radio drama created by Dashiell Hammett. Directed by William Castle, the pacing is slow and offers zero excitement, with a screenplay by Harry Essex and Leonard Lee bearing some responsibility. The script could not be fully clarified without multiple flashbacks. One is a flashback within a flashback. The supporting cast is awarded at least one. At any rate, the frequency disrupts the film's flow. The film eliminates the imagination that radio can generate. Theater attendance made this clear, signaling a follow-up movie was not in the planning stages. 

J. Scott Smart reprises and finishes his role as the well-known private detective with a commonality with Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe, both having a passion for food with waistlines as proof. Smart is not nearly as smart, however. Simple investigative logic is all he needs to solve crimes. He can “cut a rug” on the dance floor and habitually addresses a female or male as “sweetheart.” His assistant is the befuddled and persnickety Clinton Sundberg, responsible for shuttling him around and designing his meals. He is very fastidious concerning meal preparation. 

The "Fat Man" is about to partake in a sizable gourmet lunch. A most inopportune time for Jayne Meadows to seek his counsel. She initiates the first flashback to help him understand her backstory. They become somewhat of a team in tracking down the murder of her boss, a dentist, and a missing set of X-rays. Thus begins the usual questioning of intertwined characters. Smart meets with Julie London on more than one occasion. She provides flashbacks about her husband, Rock Hudson, and his prison stretch from a million-dollar robbery organized by John Russell. Hudson's cellmate, Emmitt Kelly, learns of Hudson's demise and wants his share of the loot. A minor detail: Meadows and Hudson use their real first names for their characters, Jane and Roy, as in Roy Scherer Jr.

The performances sway like a pendulum. Meadows seems near-comatose throughout. London is in the same coma ward, though her coma breaks early. Russell adds interest to his scenes with his menacing brow, which fits a gangster, unlike Hudson, who is miscast. Teddy Hart steals his two scenes with Sundberg as “Shifty,” a short, weaselly, high-voiced Brooklyn informer. He teases Sundberg because he knows it exasperates him. But without a doubt, Marvin Kaplan's brief scene as “Pinkie” swings the pendulum far into the hilarity region. His distinct Brooklyn accent and his melancholy delivery were legendary. He and his brother-in-law and trucking firm boss, Edwin Max, dislike each other immensely. Max thinks Kaplan is a dimwit and incapable of a solid day's work. Kaplan's sarcastic banter with Max is delightful. It is not just for laughs, either. They provide the final clue for Smart to pinpoint the murderer. 

Note: Screen Gems created a second potential television series starring Robert Middleton. The never-aired 1959 pilot movie was a lackluster fifty-eight minutes, despite Middleton's suave and commanding performance and a fine turn by his crackling assistant, Tony Travis. This private detective charged $200 a day, indicating Jim Rockford was not keeping pace with inflation.

CRIME AGAINST JOE (1956)

Handsome John Bromfield plays the title character from a neighborhood where everyone has known him since childhood. It is a familiar story of guilt until proven innocent. In a nod to the twenty-first century, the nearly thirty-year-old Korean War vet still lives with mom. The neighborhood sees him as an out-of-work artist bum and a frequent heavy drinker. He is so disgusted with his talent that he tells his mother he is going to get drunk. Like his late father. She is very understanding.

His car ends up at a burger joint where his high school alum, Julie London, works as a carhop. Obviously drunk, she suggests he call a taxi from there. He requests his cabbie pal, Henry Calvin, to come and get him. Calvin keeps addressing London as his girl. That may be the first hard-to-believe moment: that London and rotund Calvin are an item. The second might be Bromfield as a drunk. It is a borderline comedy routine. Stumbling home in the early morning hours, he encounters Patricia Blair sleepwalking and kindly sees her home, her father answering the door in total embarrassment. 

Not being depressed enough about his artistic talents, a girl is murdered who happens to have in her possession a high school class pin. Like the one Bromfield cannot locate. Blair’s father is called in as Bromfield’s time alibi. He is so embarrassed over his daughter’s sleep disorder he denies ever seeing him. Bromfield’s past sessions for “battle fatigue” also go against him as does his frequency of destroying his unsuccessful female portrait paintings. Painting is hard. With no solid evidence but he being their only suspect, the condescending district attorney thinks they have their man. He does not understand art either. The final, hard-to-believe moment is that the whole neighborhood thinks Bromfield should be run out of town on hearsay like so many other opinionated movie extras. London provides a bogus alibi to free Bromfield. The DA is incensed. The high school pin suspects are narrowed down. The film’s closing moments offer up a rapid twist, revealing the murderer.

Note: Bromfield is always solid in his Bel-Air Production projects. He had bills to pay like everyone else. This film benefits from location shooting, adding a historical look back for Los Angeles natives. London is not as polished. She just does not seem that interested in the role while posters try to sell the movie on her sultry figure.