FINGER MAN (1955)

There are few surprises in this eighty-two-minute Lindsley Parsons Productions project. Distributed by Allied Artists and directed by Harold Schuster, there were numerous films patterned in the same mid-century style. Hats off, though, to William Sickner for his photography and Paul Dunlap for providing a solid score that fits the various moods nicely. The talky script is slow at times with a fair share of clichéd staging. It is an average effort, and subsequent viewings will probably not be high on your list of priorities. As is so often the case, without an experienced cast, this film noir would not be nearly as watchable.

How unfortunate that Frank Lovejoy's short, thirteen-year career did not allow viewers to witness future projects. It seemed he was Hollywood’s go-to man when needing an average guy dealing with challenging situations. He possessed an intense, underplayed acting style that, more often than not, was effective. He could be a bit lackluster, too. Lovejoy does the voice-over narration reminiscent of his earlier radio program, Night Beat. Rather unusual to have someone at odds with the law tell his story in voice-overs. Most criminals end up dead in a routine film noir. 

Lovejoy is a petty criminal who has served time in the big house. He is also a talented “piano player” after a fashion. Probably the accompanist for the prison choir. To clarify, we never see the full keyboard of the upright piano he tickles at a nightclub. Not quite sure if he had a job at the club or if they just let me play when he shows up. Brought in for hijacking a truck, he is given a choice to either return to prison or help the U.S. Treasury Department take down a crime boss, the less-than-believable Forrest Tucker. The studios or perhaps his agent may have struggled to find a niche for Tucker, who vacillated between lighthearted second leads and Western outlaw types. This role does not seem the right one. If Lovejoy is successful in putting the finger on Tucker, his record will be washed clean. The worst that could happen is that he gets killed. Understandably, this weighs heavily on his decision. After discovering his sister has become a drug addict thanks to Tucker, he is committed to the assignment.

The acting is believable, with the possible exception of Timothy Carey (above), Tucker’s lunatic partner and sociopath. Carey could be the levity in this movie as his scenes elicit laughs. Yet nothing amusing about his disturbing desire to scar females’ faces before, during, or after killing them. Opposite a laid-back Lovejoy, he provides an over-the-top contrast. Discovering a past despicable deed, Lovejoy wants to attack him savagely. But before a blow can be landed, Carey immediately starts whimpering like a little child until he finishes his outrageous scene. An odd, one-dimensional character that has become classic Carey.

Lovejoy’s love interest, formerly employed by Tucker to pad his income, is Peggie Castle. Castle seems a bit too refined for the role. A “Jan Sterling type” would have been a more expected choice. She wants to turn her life around and Lovejoy demands that the Treasury also clear her record if he is successful. He needs her help to get on good terms with Tucker. Things do not end well for Castle. Often noted is her final scene crossing a darkened intersection while Lovejoy watches her for the last time from his second-story apartment. The best noir element in this film or several others.

Tucker initially likes the short-fused Lovejoy, but his opinion changes rather quickly after an undercover detective, assigned to keep tabs on Lovejoy, is fleshed out. There is no escape for the panicky Tucker. Just a reservation at the San Quentin “motor lodge” where the yearly rate is the best value. Lovejoy’s final voice-over, walking away from the camera down a darkened sidewalk, indicates he hopes to start a new life. Help people like his sister or Castle. If he lives long enough.

WOMAN ON THE RUN (1950)

Directed by Norman Foster with a coherent screenplay by Foster and Alan Campbell, along with sarcastically witty dialogue by Ross Hunter, this Universal Pictures release is a winner thanks to solid performances by the main cast. A more accurate title might have been “Husband on the Run,” that being the character actually running throughout most of the film. The hugely respected, top-billed actress predestined the title. The limited budget is pretty well hidden, sending this film into the unknown B+ movie category.

Husband and enigmatic starving artist, Ross Elliot, is walking his dog late at night and witnesses, what he will soon learn, is a gangland murder. The gunman spots him and fires in Elliot’s direction with precise accuracy. However, in the dark, the murderer shoots Elliot’s backlit shadow in the head instead. That is Elliot’s good news. The bad news is that he is now the prime witness to the murder. He bolts in fear, leaving the police, his wife, and his dog trying to locate him.

Robert Keith is the quintessential police detective in a trench coat and fedora, topping off a face full of weary. Keith is frustrated with Ann Sheridan, as she seems unconcerned about her vanishing husband. He wants to provide protection for her husband, but she is anything but helpful. They sarcastically exchange humorous lines. He is confounded that there is not a single photo of Elliot in Sheridan’s possession. Her husband being a painter, Keith asks if he ever did a self-portrait. Sheridan says no, he never liked himself that much. He returns later with more news, telling her he went to see her husband’s doctor. She asks, “Why, aren’t you feeling well?” His point is, her husband has a serious heart problem. A shocking detail of which she was unaware. Elliot now has two reasons to be found. How times have changed. Elliot's doctor is stumped by something called hypertension.

Enter Dennis O’Keefe as a wisecracking newspaper reporter. O’Keefe was a pro at playing charmingly persistent characters. He wants to help Sheridan find her husband for an exclusive story. Their banter is fun and natural. After helping her evade a policewoman tailing her in a taxi, he treats Sheridan to breakfast, where they serve the best waffles. “Butter in every little square,” he tells her. Perhaps the only flaw in the screenplay is a revealing detail during this scene that shifts the plot about fifteen minutes too soon. The middle section is somewhat ponderous and less intriguing. Through a series of obscure clues left by her husband, she is able to piece them together and locate him. All the while, Keith has been gluing clues together to find the killer.

Note: The speeding roller coaster scene at night with screaming riders and laughing animatronic figures in carnival booths can be spooky enough. Often repeated in films. The climax of Sheridan's terrifying ride on the coaster, though done in a studio with a back screen, is a nail-biter thanks to excellent editing and her acting to make it appear authentic. 

GET OUTTA TOWN! (1960)

There is a 99.99% chance you will not recognize anyone in this very late-to-the-party film noir offering. A cast of total unknowns with more television credits than films. Davis-Wilson Productions (Wilson, as in Doug Wilson) will also be unknown, as well as Sterling World Distributors. Not a problem. Though obviously lean on production values, the leads, especially Wilson, do not embarrass themselves and the dialogue is also lean with some snappy lines. This film is Wilson's baby, a self-produced film lending freedom without studio bigwigs butting in. At about an hour long, this is a decent (albeit 1950s material) film proving that low budgets can do wonders in the right hands. Few movies have a more appropriate title than this one. Everyone wants Wilson outta town. Even his mother.

Nothing like a jazz score and a good beatin’ in the dark to get your attention over the opening credits. With every punch, there is a trumpet blast. All that is missing are the superimposed graphic words, “Pow!” or “Blat!” Wilson’s face is a cross between an older Tim Allen and a younger Richard Boone. He walks like an ordinary guy, at times lazily tilting back and forth, side to side as if one leg is slightly shorter. He does a fine job here and might have made a good Philip Marlowe. Yet this was his last film, after only a few roles to his name. This "been-there-done-that" film hardly disappoints from an entertainment perspective, especially the scenes that may make your shoulders bounce up and down with laughter.

Told with a brief flashback, we find Wilson wondering what led up to his vicious, opening attack. He is back in Los Angeles to bury his crime-punk brother. He first encounters a disgruntled police officer, the prematurely balding Frank Hardy, whose facial expression gives a distinct impression smiling was never his thing. He hates the sight of Wilson and tells him to get outta town as quickly as possible. Wilson tries to explain that his three years in prison changed him, though he quickly realizes it is futile to continue flappin' his lips. Niceties are not exchanged. Hardy does not trust the former hoodlum. As Wilson moves on, he confirms to his partner that Wilson is “As rough as a stucco bathtub.” A great line, and point taken.

Wilson pays a visit to his former girlfriend, Jeanne Braid (above top), who does not believe in his transformation. She wants him outta town. Braid lets it slip his brother was probably murdered. Wilson sets out to avenge his brother's death one door at a time. When he is not knocking on doors, he is leaving a building, pausing to light a cigarette, and thinking about which direction to go next. This repeats a few times, and its frequency is amusing, like scenes that might precede a television commercial break.

Wilson reconnects with “Squirrel,” a nervous stoolie for a local gang. He is thrilled to see Wilson again, but you get the feeling “Squirrel” might rat on him just to keep in good with his boss. He takes Wilson out back to a secret door, loosely painted with a huge black “X.” How the cops have missed this is amazing. Looks like an “Our Gang” clubhouse entrance. He reunites with an old pal, who is also surprised to see Wilson. With another noir quip, he tells Wilson he had him figured for a “concrete kimona.” In the ranks is a guy who does not like Wilson simply because he does not know him. Even he is unfamiliar with the cast. He tries to remove Wilson with a screwdriver. Perhaps a Phillips-head. Wilson throttles the kid with the butt end of a loaded steel beer can then a fist to silence him. “Squirrel” goes nuts. Wilson is back!

After the flashback has expired, there are plenty of doors left to knock on as he reunites with Lee Kross and his wife, played by the blonde Marilyn O'Connor. She and Wilson have a past and he accepts her advances to find out the whole truth about Kross. He agrees to help Wilson find out about his brother, but first, oddly, he says he needs to change his shirt. What he had on looked perfectly acceptable to me. The ending wraps up very suddenly, with rapid-fire verbal exchanges between Wilson and Kross informing the viewer of the latter's backstory. He turns into a sniveling coward when reminded of his slim chance of surviving the syndicate. The police arrive to find Kross attempting to make a run for it. Hardy is not pleased that Wilson is still in town.

For the final time, with saxophone in support, Wilson exits a building, pauses, then decides to go right. By now, Braid has come to terms with his life's turnaround, and she rushes to join him in San Francisco. 

99 RIVER STREET (1953)

This time around, John Payne is a tough prizefighter in another film for director Phil Karlson. A familiar tale of a “man against the world.” George Zuckerman's story is pretty far-fetched, certainly not routine. If this Edward Small production falls short of being a great movie, the spot-on performances allow one to overlook any clichés. The budgeted studio sets with perpetually wet city streets were a standard device to give a city life. The painted or rear-projected buildings are present to add depth. There is a noticeably odd “processing” near the climactic harbor scene, perhaps a sliced-in partial rear projection in front of a cargo ship. In fact, the cargo ship also looks suspicious.

Though Payne starred in a gritty, career-changing film before, he is believable as a guy beaten down inside and outside the ring. Payne is on a career roll, leaving behind his lighter characters. There is never a dull moment. The boxer's volatile temper, blunt dialogue, and realistic action catapult the film above the average film noir. I found the opening boxing scenes more believable than the over-the-top Rocky Balboa bouts. Though both films seem to use the same sound effect of punching a cardboard box with a pillow inside. Because of the potential loss of sight in one eye during his championship fight, Payne's heavyweight career comes to an end. Three years on, he is now a taxi driver with dreams of owning his own service station. His wife, Peggie Castle, is a nagging, unsympathetic woman who blames him for her lack of social importance and her personal career crusher. Owning a lowly gas station is the "last round" for her. Castle is already two-timing with a jewel thief and murderer, Brad Dexter. No secret to Payne after witnessing their passionate embrace.

Jay Adler moonlights as a backroom jewel fence, incognito as a pet shop owner. He refuses to pay off Dexter for his latest jewel delivery, not only for killing the original owner but primarily because he brings Castle into the mix. Adler tells him there is no deal if a woman is involved. Emotional attachments have a way of altering the endgame. Dexter takes his “advice,” and her cold body is found in the back seat of Payne's cab. Not exactly a typical fare. The cab company's manager is Frank Faylen, a longtime loyal friend of Payne. He is instrumental in helping Payne elude the police with a taxi shell game. 

Playing an aspiring actress, Evelyn Keyes has two supporting roles with Payne. Besides being his co-star, she is a frequent taxi fare. When she finds out about his predicament, she wants to help, but he is reluctant. Keyes' attractiveness lies in her character portrayals more than in being naturally beautiful. It is of no concern whether her face is filmed from one side or the other. She also desperately wants a Broadway part and reels Payne in on her accidental  "killing" of the play's producer. He becomes a sucker, she gets the part. He is so angry over the live "audition," he punches out nearly the entire production staff out of embarrassment. He hopes to never see Keyes again, too.

Jack Lambert, Adler's muscle, below, has a good turn as well. He has developed a sense of humor despite his line of work. Calls everyone at gunpoint, “kiddies.” His fight scene with Payne is worth noting. Suspecting he is in with Dexter, he slaps Payne around from behind, who is slowly coming to a full boil. Lambert becomes his punching bag. He completely did not anticipate the jackhammers hiding at the end of Payne's arms. Poor Lambert is repeatedly blasted over furniture and becomes wall décor, after a fashion. It is well-choreographed, vicious, and believable. 

Adler and crew are 

Payne is picked up after the butt-end of a revolver from a revengeful Lambert, forcing him into Adler's vehicle and taken to 99 River Street. They all wait for Dexter to exit a diner. Adler wants his fifty grand back. Payne explains to the confused mob about his frame-up, then all bullets have Dexter's name on them. Continuing to hone her acting skills, it is Keyes's role-playing that lures Dexter out of the diner. Dexter makes a run for it, with Payne taking a bullet in one arm. Nearly passing out when in pursuit, his inner voice recalls his trainer's advice: never give up. One arm is plenty, and Dexter is soon down for the count. 

Note: The film closes a year later with Payne and Keyes married. He finally owns his gas station, with Faylen as his right-hand man again, arranging for the cab company to buy all their gas from the station.

THE MAN IN THE VAULT (1956)

This easily forgotten RKO drama stars William Campbell as an expert but lowly locksmith named Tommy Dancer. Would you trust a locksmith with that underworld name? One cannot judge a book by its cover, but in Campbell’s case, I make an exception. Actually, Campbell comes off well in this one with help from other experienced actors. Anita Ekberg not one of them. Adding authenticity is some location filming, like at Art Linkletter’s La Cienega Lanes bowling alley. Perhaps the only time it was featured in a movie. 

Cute Karen Sharpe, with incredibly bouncy hair, is at the party because she gets want she wants in that crowd. I think that is her occupation. She is spurned by her on-and-off boyfriend/lawyer, played by a Chuck Woolery look-a-like. Pouting, she exits the party. Cocky Campbell has had enough of feeling out of place and also leaves, walking past Sharpe. She offers him a lift in her car but neither seems to have a destination. She asks him if he drives. I guess wondering if he might not have any experience with an automatic transmission or that big round ring on the left side of the dash.

Barry Kroeger, a smirking small-time hoodlum, gets his leg man, Paul Fix, to locate a good locksmith. Kroeger then pressures Campbell to break into a safe deposit box rented by a big-time mobster, James Seay, and make a duplicate key. But Fix double-crosses Kroeger and suggests Campbell take the 200k himself. Temptation is acted upon and Campbell stores the money at the bowling alley for a striking finale.

Fix, after killing Kroeger with an Oldsmobile, goes after the money with Campbell only armed with a bowling pin. Funny? He throws it through a window and sets off the burglar alarm. Smart. Paul is in a fix by then and is quickly apprehended. Campbell’s running is unintentionally comical with arms quickly swinging back and forth, left to right. I burst out laughing. Meanwhile, mob boss Seay is charged with murder and Campbell reunites with Sharpe, the dominant driver. Campbell will have some explaining to do at police headquarters.

Note: The excruciating song, “Let The Chips Fall Where They May” is sung by Vivianne Lloyd in her singing/acting debut and career closer. Why any song was planned for this film is a mystery...like Lloyd’s career. Kroeger throws a party at his home and requests she sing his favorite song. She makes her rounds in the small living room, slinking around chairs and a couch, giving a performance better suited for a nightclub setting. Her high-register crescendos are not very romantic as she blasts Campbell’s eyebrows back, angling them even more, from inches away. It is the most awkward and funny moment in the film. She sings well enough, but the 1950s-era lip-sync is off, coupled with her put-on expressions, made me vault to the kitchen.