FORGOTTEN FILMS: TV TRANSITION

Though typically overshadowed by Hollywood's A-list, there were respectable performances by numerous actors and actresses who never became major film stars. A common occurrence was their transition to the new medium of television, often becoming familiar faces in homes across America. These periodic posts offer insight into their transition.

Steve Brodie: John Stephens (1919-1992)

Most would remember Steve Brodie from his early film noir roles as a tough, sometimes heartless, gangster. These personas carried over into westerns as a hired gun or a despicable drifter. His contract with RKO Pictures got him noticed with 1947 proving to be a pivotal year in such films as, Out of the Past, Crossfire, and Desperate, the latter of which he had a lead role as a newlywed on the straight and narrow after a prison sentence. It was a fairly exciting film in which he tries to distance himself from a past acquaintance, Raymond Burr, who is now a powerful gangster. Keeping his wife out of harm’s way was his priority. He was opposite Lawrence Tierney in Bodyguard (1948) followed by a freelance project for a dandy Richard Fleischer film, Armored Car Robbery (1950). He was on the right side of the law as a police lieutenant in the remake of M (1951). Though television kept him busy, he never left films totally behind with a supporting role in, Three Came to Kill (1960) opposite Cameron Mitchell, as an electronic “genius” who hates “stinkin' jets” as they roar overhead.

Brodie signed on to popular westerns of the era, Cheyenne, Wanted--Dead or Alive, and Rawhide. He played Butch Cassidy in the Warner Bros series, Bronco. His only recurring role was as Sheriff Johnny Behan on The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp (1960) then Everglades, (1961), as Captain Andy Benson. He made the rounds in modern detective series such as 77 Sunset Strip, Hawaiian Eye, and Perry Mason in the early Sixties. On the lighter side, he had an appearance on, The Beverly Hillbillies (1965) and The Wild World of Batwoman, 1966. He found only occasional work in the Seventies. His career ended in the Eighties—coming full circle—with three forgettable low-budget films.

Note: Stephens, a native of Kansas, took his stage name from the daredevil, Steve Brodie, who claimed to have survived a jump from the Brooklyn Bridge in 1886. Typical of actors of his era, he jumped from job to job just to get by, resulting in a hard-living, hard-drinking life away from the cameras. However, whether on stage, on film, or on television, he never embarrassed himself and usually added a memorable dimension to his films.

ARMORED CAR ROBBERY (1950)

This sixty-seven-minute RKO Radio Pictures project is a dandy and hardly unknown to film noir geeks or fans of the lead actors. Suffice to say it is nearly flawless in execution and Charles McGraw got noticed. Naturally, there are a couple of clichés that may bring a chuckle or two from Twenty-First Century viewers. Directed by Richard Fleischer, it displays his penchant for realism with his early trademarks of location filming and attention to police procedural details. The latter point is well displayed when the authorities comb the area for clues as to where the robbers abandoned their getaway car. That scene is also enhanced by a lean screenplay with no wasted dialogue. The cinematography is outstanding as well. The score is not memorable, but at least it does not get in the way of the actors.

You do not want to get on the bad side of Detective Charles McGraw. He makes no compromises with criminals and also appears a tad weary of a daily routine of trying to apprehend them. The opening, low camera close-up of him on a phone call sets up his persona. Ruggedly handsome with a face chiseled from stone and just about as animated. He plays it exactly how his character should be. His gravelly voice helped define his film destiny, though. He had no fear of competing against the likes of Danny Kaye for a musical comedy. Today, his voice and maturity may have had him auditioning with the likes of Liam Neeson.

He and fellow partner, James Flavin, are called to the less famous Wrigley Field. The one in Los Angeles used by the farm team of the Chicago Cubs. Both detectives are miffed it is another false alarm. In reality, it was William “He’s got Bette Davis eyes” Tallman who called in the fake alarm in a pre-robbery timing to discover how long it takes for the police to get there. Assuming they left on time and there was no heavy traffic to delay them, I guess.

Tallman enlists three petty criminals to help him with the armored car robbery when it stops in front of the stadium. Steve Brodie thinks an armored car robbery will not work. Risky. He says it might work if it were run by Tallman, yet he only knows him by reputation. Awkward. Doug Fowley is married to Adele Jergens (above) who is in love with Tallman. Gene Evans finalizes the four losers in the robbery. The detailed robbery plans of who is where and when are not described in the film. Smartly, we discover the end result as it happens. What mastermind Tallman could not foresee is that McGraw was on patrol nearby and responded to the emergency call rather quickly. Evans pulls his sputtering jalopy purposely behind the men unloading the armored truck and fakes a look under the hood. He sets off an explosion of tear gas. In an exchange of bullets, Flavin succumbs, then Fowley gets seriously wounded. McGraw jumps in his car in hot pursuit of the bandits, but an evasive maneuver damages his tire. 

Tallman was adept at playing despicable criminals before he turned over a new leaf, went to law school, and met Perry Mason. He has no sympathy for the mortally wounded Fowley. To help him forget this pain and give them a chance to get through a clichéd roadblock, Tallman angrily slaps his face a few times. After the officers look over their car and give them the go-ahead, Brodie cannot get the car started. A tension "device" used countless times in crime movies. Once at their hideout, Fowley, gasping for life, demands a doctor and his share of the loot. Tallman gives him a final parting gift. Three bullets. He later gives Brodie a lesson about who is boss. After punching him in the stomach, he violently takes both hands, clapping them hard against both sides of Brodie’s head, potentially rupturing his eardrums. It is shocking and perhaps the first time this violent act was used on film. It was used again by the director in a John Payne crime story.

Jergens plays her usual role, though her employment changed from film to film. This time, she is a burlesque queen. Brodie stops in the burlesque house in hopes of getting his money from her. McGraw is there with handcuffs, and both men miss the entire performance. With no fear of the murder wrap, Brodie spills the truth about Tallman. McGraw’s young new partner, Don McQuire, volunteers to take Brodie’s place and meet “the queen.” A solid plan, except Tallman knows his partner is locked up. His gun is there to meet McQuire outside the establishment. Jergen's wired car allows the detective to audibly send location points to the tailing patrol car. Tallman is suspicious of these hints and tells him to get out, whose life is then saved by Jergens, preventing Tallman from firing a second time. Or third. Or a fourth, just to be sure.

The lovebirds attempt a getaway via a chartered plane. Tallman, not happy the plane has been recalled to the terminal, threatens the pilot at gunpoint. This is always pretty silly, and Hollywood still does it. If he shoots the pilot, they are going nowhere. Tallman grabs the suitcase of loot and, in his panic, does not see (or apparently hear) a taxiing DC-3. The suggested prop divides the cash and him in small denominations. A happy ending for McGraw. Well, not so much, judging by the grimace on his face. The happy part is when he shares a news article with McQuire, recovering from that gunshot wound. It is all about their success in the robbery. Both officers are mentioned at the bottom of the article, and as the young partner starts reading, he pretends his name is so minuscule he has to get really close to the page to see it. They both laugh.

Note: For a limited role, Don McQuire (above) does a fine job. He and McGraw hit it off by the end. Today, this movie might have had a sequel based on their chemistry if the studio gambled to make more money. But things were pleasantly different in 1950.

DESPERATE (1947)

This strong film is another Anthony Mann early noir effort that includes great camera angles and lighting by cinematographer George E. Diskant. It arises from a story by Mann and Dorothy Atlas. It is a dandy display of characters with an intelligent screenplay by Harry Essex. This seventy-three-minute RKO Radio Pictures release was produced by Michael Kraike with the ever-present Paul Sawtell composing the score.

Steve “B-movie” Brodie, not his usual bad guy here, and Audrey Long play newlyweds, expecting their first child after four months of marriage. Brodie is an independent trucker who unexpectedly reconnects with a svelte Raymond Burr. He puts the "hood" in childhood friend. Burr is now a mobster with plans to smuggle illegal merchandise using Brodie and his truck but he wants no part of it even after taking a beating. The swinging overhead lamp, back and forth over Burr’s face will be memorable. Believable makeup for Brodie’s beating and swollen cheek should also be noted. Burr threatens the wife if he does not go through with it. This hardly ever happens in films. Burr’s kid brother was captured during the film's opening heist and is set to be executed for killing a cop. Burr turns a bit psycho because of it and wants Brodie to confess to the shooting. His life for his brother’s. Brodie manages to escape on his second attempt. The only thing on his mind is his wife’s safety.

Perhaps because of the film’s fast pace, script logic takes a back seat. The elusive couple quickly takes the next train out of town. Switches to a bus then steal a car. They are not sure where they are going nor does the audience have any idea where they are coming from. I could not figure where the story opens but guess Chicago. Maybe I missed something. Never mind the couple’s increasing back rent and their inability to stop mail delivery. The couple decides to head for Long’s aunt & uncle's Minnesota farm.

Meanwhile, the police attempt to apprehend Burr and his gang. Burr escapes with a gunshot wound that puts him out of circulation for two months. However, the hole in Burr’s stomach is smaller than any hole in this script. The trail seems impossibly cold then Burr’s cop-on-the-take checks Brodie’s unopened apartment mail. Specifically the one with a Minnesota return address. Burr is roughly a twelve-hour drive away, perhaps confirming his Chicago location. The farm no longer a safe haven, Brodie puts his wife on a bus for California while he deals with Burr. Guessing the climax time frame, Long may have only made it as far as Kansas City before being sent back to Chicago.

Note: The brief performance by Jason Robards, Sr. should not go unnoticed. He plays the laid-back, wise detective who is more often than not filing his nails nonchalantly when in conversation. His unflappable performance is fun to watch. When Brodie attempts to turn himself in, Robards sees his confession as just convenient lies. But he lets him go simply to track him and capture the entire gang. I would think it not an easy task judging by Brodie’s earlier elusive transportation behavior. But Robards pops up at every turn. He soon discovers Brodie is on the level and both want to end Burr's criminal career.