SHAKEDOWN (1950)

Howard Duff plays an over-confident, womanizing con man with a camera who despises the low income of society, of which he is currently a part. The opening beating he takes sets the tone for his well-known lack of character. Among other things, the love of money is the root of all evil and he will use anyone as a stepping stone for financial gain. A newspaper photo editor, Peggy Dow, falls for Duff's smooth, charming manner and ambition, then vouches for him to the editor-in-chief, Bruce Bennett. With a nose for news, honesty and integrity, he does not like Duff from the outset—something rotten is developing. Nevertheless, due to her persistence, he is hired. In time, his uncanny ability to be in the exact spot to capture a newsworthy happening suspiciously lacks authenticity. Like the time Duff happens upon an apartment fire and spots a lady breaking a third-story window for escape. He tells her to pause then yells, "Now jump." Click! I assume there were firemen to catch her. Not an issue for Duff.

Duff surviving until the end of this film seems highly unlikely. His cocky, yet naivete, gets him involved with organized crime. He is well paid for his darkroom skills, going to work for a racketeer, Brian Donlevy, who provides him with inside information about a rival's activity. Duff just "happens" to be in downtown San Francisco to capture Lawrence Tierney during the bank robbery. Duff later approaches Tierney to offer him a deal—he will keep the negative in safe keeping for a substantial fee. If that is not enough, he later hides in a parking garage to capture him in the act of installing an after-market accessory to Donlevy's limo: a bomb. The unscrupulous shutterbug now has the blackmail image of his dreams. Duff is free to swoop in for Donlevy's widow, Anne Vernon.

During the rapid climax at a high society formal event, Duff's true colors are revealed to Vernon—Tierney suggests he was responsible for her husband's death. But those negatives, hidden within a picture frame at Dow's apartment, will prove otherwise. Duff's frantic call proves fruitless. She is fed up with his fabrications and hangs up on him. Duff is a marked man. After being shot three times, he still manages to squeeze the shutter release cable hanging from his tripod to photograph Tierney firing the fatal bullet.

Duff lived for a “shot” at immortality. His photographic evidence brings the mobsters to justice. Yet the newspaper staff knew he was a "skunk of the first odor" all along.

Note: The eighty-minute film was released by Universal Pictures and directed by Joseph Pevney. It is a better-than-average B-movie noir. Fine performances all around. The powerful scores are from a stock library by several well-known composers. Duff effortlessly delivers numerous sarcastic, witty quips throughout—like a guy who memorized the excellent screenplay by Martin Goldsmith and Alfred Lewis Levitt. Ignore the poster. At no time did Donlevy attempt to punch out Duff. The viewers on the other hand....

There is at least one gullible moment in the film. Duff desperately wants that image few could capture. As a taxi fare, he notices the car in front is weaving left and right and thinks it might lead to something. The erratic car does plunge into shallow water, balanced precipitously on its side—the driver in a panic. Rather than help the driver, Duff tells him to stick his head out the side window and then stretch out his arms in a show of desperation. Why the driver would comply with these commands is difficult to fathom. 

HOMETOWN STORY (1951)

Here is a sixty-one-minute visual slice of Americana. Though well-acted and providing no lulls, the movie will never be on anyone’s bucket list. It makes a better television drama than an MGM movie. Yet it turned a small, six-figure profit from its minuscule budget. Some suggest this project is a General Motors self-promotion film. Perhaps. What is more important is Louis Forbes’ opening piano score, which sounds frighteningly like a depressing medical melodrama in which viewers are going to need absorbent facial tissues. Elsewhere, the score seems lifted from a typical Fifties or Sixties sitcom with dominating flutes.

It opens with views of an All-American city below, from a landing DC-3 airliner. The downtown is a wonderful snapshot of post-war America, and its quiet neighborhoods are tree-lined with white picket fences. No gas-powered lawnmowers or leaf blowers disrupt the silence. Harley-Davidson motorcycles are mostly used by patrol officers, all equipped with standard exhaust and not today's personal, noise-polluting after-market units.

Jeffrey Lynn plays a sore loser. He is a two-year Senator who was not re-elected and is quite defensive about it. Lynn inherits the senior editor position of the town’s newspaper from his uncle and plans to use this platform for political gain. Shame. Shame. He attacks one industry’s dumping of pollutants in the local river system, though its controller, Harry Harvey, provides evidence that their process does nothing of the kind. The parallels to today are obvious as Lynn starts spreading fake news about the evils of big corporations and their profits. Apparently, not coming to terms with the fact that most people in a business set out to make a profit. The CEO, Donald Crisp, visits Lynn and graciously offers his thoughts on how many people actually benefit from big industry profits. He hopes it will quell the negative editorials. But Lynn remains selfishly skeptical. Lynn's buddy and news reporter, Alan Hale, Jr., looking particularly handsome and oozing charm with a big smile, comes to blows with Lynn’s attacks and personal edginess.

Lynn’s seven-year fiancé—that is not a typo—Marjorie Reynolds, levels with him about why he lost the election. And maybe a wedding. Voters thought the celebrated war hero would make a difference, but they knew it was a mistake soon after pulling the lever. Ouch! Melinda Plowman's voice (Lynn’s baby sister) has been dubbed by sixteen fingernails across a blackboard. Judging by the vast age difference between brother and sister, she was probably a late “surprise” to mother and father. While on a school field trip, her life is spared, ironically, by Crisp's big corporation’s heavy equipment, the rapid response of its workers, and the company's air transportation to the necessary hospital. Waiting for the results in the waiting room, Lynn humbly realizes he was born to run a newspaper and not people's lives, with no future political ambitions. Probably. We hope.

Notes: The humorous scenes centered around Hale's attraction to Marilyn Monroe's savvy character are delightful thanks to her trademark, deadpan delivery. Another funny scene of camera trickery comes up later. While gazing in Monroe’s direction, without looking, Hale throws his fedora like a Frisbee behind him, across the editing room, where it lands properly on a female colleague’s head. I suspect no viewer saw that coming.

It would seem every poster, then and today's DVDs, gives the false impression that the nearly unknown Monroe is a major character. One might think she is the hometown story. Far from it, her scenes total about four minutes in this, her third film spot. Ray Teal had nearly as much screen time, but he was not even credited. Admittedly, Teal's sweaters do not fit quite the same. And there was something about his walk. Also uncredited is the familiar face of Hugh Beaumont, feeling quite at home in an idyllic town.

-30- (1959)

This over-scripted box office flop would almost appear to be a television series pilot movie. Directed and produced by Jack Webb for his Mark VII Limited Company, this part sitcom, part drama, reveals the day’s happenings in the life of a competitive Los Angeles newspaper. Always a stickler for realism, Webb uses it here to a fault, with ingratiating dialogue slightly embarrassing as if you are an uninvited guest to a private party.

The somber opening with soap opera score under white titles against a stark black background quickly switches to a "cha-cha theme song" used occasionally throughout the film. Ray Heindorf's music score is certainly an odd mix. There is enough humor in the film, however, that the cha-cha tune starts to, strangely, make some sense. Webb appears to have taken "77 Sunset Strip," "Ben Casey" or "Lassie" themes of the period and suggested using them with select scenes. The film's portrayal of a big city newspaper is dated since every department head possesses the personal discernment to never politicize a story.

The film, set entirely in a newspaper office set, can be momentarily captivating with enough personal issues to tug at your heartstrings. One example, Whitney Blake plays the on-screen wife of Webb who wants him to accept the idea of adoption. Their past finds it difficult for him to make such a commitment. Another is the search for a small child who may have drowned. Both challenges weigh heavily on Webb's conscience.

Though respectably acted, there are enough uncomfortable moments to make you cringe as the occasionally corny scrip by William Bowers jumps from tearjerker to comedy. William Conrad's face fills the screen as he opens the film. He has been provided the most comedic dialogue. His performance is so over the top you may find yourself blushing as he chews up the office furniture. He berates copy boys, David Nelson specifically, throughout the eighty-eight-minute film making it a recurring amusing device. Conrad's delivery will probably make you chuckle. Still, his character is unnecessarily crude. Underlying all his toughness, though, is a large sensitive man with an enlarged heart. I will say, Webb gives his most animated performance with a full range of emotions and comes in a close second to Conrad's funny quips. He is fun to watch. Momentary humorous encounters include a young staffer, Richard Bakalyan, who has the honor to escort a prominent couple to view the newspaper's operation in full swing with all the limited experience he can muster. His run-in with "staff artist" Richard Deacon puts him in his place in comedic form. Look for William Bell, Howard McNear, and Joe Flynn. I found the closing credits, visually identifying the actors and their portrayed characters, not worthy of the style. It is an odd choice for something other than an epic historical film.

Note: The term "-30-" signified "the end," originating from several code tables for telegraph operators. The title was used at the end of this movie and explains its meaning. Ironically, it was the end to Webb's Warner Bros. contract.