CONVICT’S CODE (1939)

 

The less-than-famous Motion Pictures for Television, Inc. production offered up this sixty-two-minute, essentially forgotten film, directed by Lambert Hillyer and distributed by Monogram Pictures Corporation—known after 1953 as Allied Artists Pictures Corporation. It had no chance of garnering fans in a year of monumental productions. Hillyer chewed through one movie after another, ending his career with the successful television series, Highway Patrol. There is not much to say about this budget-constrained, well-acted crime film except that the plot is revealed in the first ten minutes. There is nothing about the cinematography or music score that has not been seen or heard before. Capitalizing on a Thirties trend, there may be scenes between two characters explaining what has happened or what is about to happen, so the viewer will not be confused or left behind. However, confusion is not an issue with the obviously spelled-out screenplay by John Krafft.

THE FIRST TEN MINUTES

Former college football great “Whizz Tyler,” played by Robert Kent, has spent the last three years in prison for a robbery he did not commit. Released on six-year parole, Kent is bent on finding those who railroaded him, like racketeer Sidney Blackmer, for starters, whose secretary sounds like Betty Boop over the intercom. Blackmer bet heavily on a crucial college game and lost a bundle. He hires the parolee, an assured way of getting him out of his hair over the slightest parole violation.

Speaking of violations, Kent’s parole officer runs down his restrictions for the next half dozen years. The usual, like not changing his residence, associating with known criminals, driving without a driver’s license, and no guns or boozing. No one ever said he was a whizz at comprehension, as he racks up more than enough violations to send him back to the slammer. But the only witnesses are the movie-goers. Finally—the real stickler—he cannot marry unless the potential bride is approved by the parole board. Get! Out!

ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW AFTER TEN MINUTES

Blackmer is loved by everyone who does not really know him. A criminal manipulator, he does, however, have a beating heart. Anne Nagel adores her older brother. Personally, I was annoyed by her occasional monotonous pattern of pitch with words perfectly released as if she were cognizant of over-enunciating. Her steely-bright “esses” sting her words. I digress. Blackmer’s first assignment for Kent is to make a delivery to Nagel’s home, and he takes a shine to her right off the car's running board. There are inconsequential scenes in the movie at this point, and then the film wraps up briskly as Kent levels with Nagel about being framed. Being the gentleman he is, he does not reveal the person responsible. Knowing how much his sister loves the parolee, Blackmer tries to stop his bull-headed associate from following through with the “Whizz” hit. Everyone gets what and who they deserve in the end. Knowing the bloodline with a known criminal, Nagel hopes she gets a good marriage approval rating from the parole board.

Note: There are two actors of note, though for different reasons. Maude Eburne plays Kent’s landlady. An exhausted pessimist with a nasal delivery. Her performance may be the only fondly remembered moment in the film. She is the levity, whether intentional or not. The other is Ben Alexander, who plays Kent’s long-time friend and newspaper sports writer. Alexander would later gain fame and weight as the first television partner to Sgt. Joe Friday on “Dragnet.”

EXPERIMENT ALCATRAZ (1950)

The best news about this film is that it makes use of only fifty-seven minutes. Distributed by RKO Pictures, it was directed by Edward “B-movie” Cahn, who turned out a good one with a small budget and a low-tier cast. Orville Hampton wrote the screenplay with Irving Gertz's score used appropriately. Voice-over narration gives a sense of an exposé documentary, of course, but the medical research in this film is merely hypothetical. Hopeful thinking of the era to harness nuclear energy for peaceful purposes. In keeping with an RKO trend, location titles are superimposed over the given background footage so no viewer gets lost. 

John Howard, doing a respectable job here, plays the doctor who discovers a serum that may cure a fatal blood disease. Death is an alternate outcome. Leading and supporting actor, Robert Shayne, had an unmistakable vocal tone as if talking through a hollow plastic box stuffed with cotton, a wound-tight mellow sound. His perpetual smirk here will immediately suggest he is up to no good. He is one of several Alcatraz prisoners to be set free if they volunteer to take part in the Navy's experimental research. A notorious racketeer, Shayne appears to go insane after his injection of a radioactive isotope, stabbing and killing his prison pal lying in the nearby bed with a pair of scissors lifted from a Navy Lieutenant, the equally billed Joan Dixon. It reflects badly on her assumed negligence, and the Navy removes her immediately and cancels the experimental program.

Dixon’s untrained vocal delivery sounds periodical as if she is pretending to be a bad actress in a classic movie spoof. Her occasional “heavy” eyelids appear to be lacking a proper night’s rest. Dixon's short B-movie career was in the hands of Howard Hughes at RKO, who had hoped to mold her into a star. She was attractive, with a face that blends Gene Tierney and Elizabeth Taylor, according to my current eyeglass prescription. Her most famous role came a year later in the famous Roadblock.

Howard knows from repeated tests that the reaction of the serum with the isotope actually dulls the person’s emotions, not excites them to violence. He sets out to prove Shayne, who has since returned to his racketeering, is a murderer. Back in his formal wear, Shayne is quite smug about his chances of being booked for murder. To deter his investigations, Howard is pummeled repeatedly by Shayne’s muscle. The balance of the film reveals why Shayne would kill his prison pal. Not exactly an original idea, it involves the pal’s wife. Though Howard never witnesses “The End,” by the end, his research is reinstated by the Navy, and assume Dixon gets her job back.

Note: Real-life Navy veteran John Howard became one of the first screen actors committing to the new field of television. He formed a friendship with Fred MacMurray and was a frequent guest star on his Sixties television show, playing his boss. Howard transitioned into the field of specialized education, teaching English for more than twenty years.

THE GANGSTER (1947)

This eighty-four-minute film was directed by Gordon Wiles with production handled by King Brothers Production (Frank and Maurice). It is from a screenplay by Daniel Fuchs and Dalton Trumbo. Distributed by Allied Artists Pictures, it is one of the most stylish noir films thanks to Paul Ivano's cinematography. Just one of the many standouts in this classic film. The limited-budget film might remind you of a Playhouse 90 with a singular gigantic set.

The title role of Shubunka (an original name if there ever was one) is played by Barry Sullivan in his breakout leading role. He is excellent as a small-time numbers racketeer who arrogantly thinks he is unstoppable. His front for the racket is an ice cream shop owned by his partner, Akim Tamiroff. In hock up to his eyeballs is John Ireland, who frequents the shop pleading with Tamiroff to give him an advance. He eventually comes to blows (literally) with Tamiroff. Ireland’s wife is played by Virginia Christine who is always pleading with him to come home for the mountain-grown coffee she just percolated.

Sullivan’s infatuation with a nightclub singer, played by Belita (the real-life ballerina and ice skater) takes a toll on his finances, buying her everything. Unknown to Sullivan, a rival, Sheldon Leonard, is planning to muscle him out of business. But Sullivan refuses to believe what a frightened Tamiroff tells him. Or that Belita is in on the takeover.

Sullivan’s riveting, rapid monologue in the last half is memorable. Truly 'told with bullet force' as the poster suggests. The low camera angle pointed toward the checkerboard ceiling makes him appear bigger than he is. It is a reality check for the viewer. Angrily he comes down on the shop cashier, Joan Lorring, in an effort to justify his lifestyle to all beneath him. Viewers soon realize that this cynical character is rather insecure and all his “accomplishments” are the result of tough talk and limited resources with no lasting impact.

Notes: Perhaps strange how many European figure skaters were groomed as actresses in the first half of the twentieth century. By far the most successful was Sonja Henie, but there was Vera Ralston, and here, Belita. They apparently had Foreign appeal on ice that Hollywood moguls wanted. Tamiroff's soda jerk, Harry Morgan, offers the only light moments in the film as a man of the world who wants anyone within earshot to know how he treats a real lady. An expert on the subject with little evidence as proof.