#243. They Drive by Night (1940)

 

 

A.K.A. The Road to Frisco

 

Bit of an interesting structure to this one. The opening half is centered around two brothers who transport goods across the country, avoid loan sharks, and try to work on their home lives. But then, a good chunk of the way through, we're suddenly introduced to a trucking business owner and his wife, the latter of whom basically becomes the main character once she decides to go after one of the brothers. 

 

Much like this wife character, the movie is arguably guilty of wanting to have its cake and eat it too. The pair of storylines don't have a whole lot in common on a character or thematic level (though I guess they both reflect the dangers of this lifestyle), the tone is kind of all over the place, and certain aspects of the story - particularly Bogart's subplot - fall a bit by the wayside.

 

In all honesty, though, I don't really consider this stuff to be actively detrimental. On the contrary, I actually think they keep the energy fresh, the pacing lively, and the plot unpredictable. And between the sharp writing, Raoul Walsh's solid workmanship, and Ida Lupino's compellingly maniacal performance, the movie not only manages to maintain its momentum, but kicks into an even higher gear once we reach the third act.

 

Grade: A-

#227. The Blue Dahlia (1946)

 

 

This is one of those noirs that has a really solid foundation (an interesting premise, a respectable cast [including a reunion between Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake], an original screenplay by Raymond Chandler himself), but, in my opinion, just a so-so result.

 

Part of that's due to Chandler's hardboiled tone, which I'm frankly not all that crazy about (it always comes off kinda dry and dense to me), but I think it's also a matter of the story and characters not living up to their potential. The mystery lacks intrigue, the plot seems to revolve around a string of increasingly implausible chance encounters, and the final reveal is so rushed and random that I wouldn't be surprised if they made it up on the spot.

 

Still, while these elements make the whole thing feel a bit distant and mechanical, there's enough style throughout that I wouldn't quite call it dull, either. Ladd and Lake provide adequate movie star charisma (especially when they're together, as rare as that is), the colourful mix of supporting characters adds a good deal of flavour, and the sets and costumes mostly get the mood across, even if the cinematography almost never does. Decent genre entry, but it could've been a lot better.

 

Grade: B

#214. The Uninvited (1944)

 

 

This has to be one of the most approachable and, ironically, inviting haunted house movies ever made. It has an unusually light and jaunty tone (which, aside from keeping the material fun, is perfect for establishing some investment in the horror elements and dramatic backstories), and a familiar-yet-unearthly presentation that ensures a certain warmth and coziness throughout.

 

Of course, a lot of that also has to do with the dark and elegant beauty of the house itself. When I see this place, with its enormous staircase (I was kinda hoping to see Ray Milland slide down that banister at some point, but I digress), open rooms, and stunning views, I can understand why these characters would take such a risk. And the gorgeous use of light and shadow only adds to its allure.

 

Even zooming out from the setting, though, nearly everything about this movie delighted me. I'm sure a lot of people find it slow and quaint, but I thought it was cute, funny, and spooky in equal measure. My only issue is that it gets a bit plot-heavy down the stretch, but even that doesn't really detract from the bouncy pacing, colourful moods, and adorable effects.

 

Grade: A

#205. Scarlet Street (1945)

 

 

I know film noirs are generally quite dark by nature, but this one's downright mean-spirited. Fritz Lang takes us to one of the many ugly corners of New York, and populates it with characters that are despicable, irksome, or pathetic (or some combination of the three), which results in one of those seedy little yarns where you're waiting for, and secretly kind of hoping for, everything to go south.

 

These bleaker elements consistently appealed to me (particularly in the final twenty minutes, which get deliciously psychological), but I do think they might've worked even better if the overall movie had a bit less congestion to it. At various points, especially in the second half, we're still being introduced to new subplots and characters, and they tend to detract more than they add, hurting the overall flow of the story for me.

 

But I suppose that kind of bizarre ambition is part of Lang's appeal, right? Like, all this mayhem going on fits pretty well with his heightened styles and tones, so he mostly gets away with it. Plus, it helps that Edward G. Robinson's here to ground everything with his naive, sad sack performance, where he generates just enough sympathy for the arc to sock you in the mouth four or five times.

 

Grade: B+

 

#177. The Body Snatcher (1945)

 

 

In almost every regard, The Body Snatcher is a very small movie. It's less than eighty minutes long, there aren't a lot of characters, and the financial constraints are obvious. And yet, the whole thing's so rich and creepy and fun that it never feels especially slight to me. Helps that Robert Louis Stevenson's source material is as smart, provocative, and conflict-heavy as it is (with some fascinating dynamics and parallels), and that Boris Karloff's as delightfully sinister as ever.

 

The bulk of the credit, though, should probably go to Robert Wise, who's working overtime to ensure that this thing's as atmospheric as possible. Nearly any moment will serve as adequate evidence, but I'll note my three favourites: the camera staying on an empty arch while a singer abruptly goes quiet, the silhouette-bathed cat witnessing a fight, and the tense carriage ride climax. It's genuinely breathtaking stuff, and a reminder of why this guy managed to have such a long and fruitful career. 

 

Honestly, this one really surprised me. I was expecting something on the level of the Universal Monsters, but what I got was leagues ahead of most of those. It may even be an early contender for my favourite horror movie of the '40s (which, granted, was a relatively weak decade for the genre).

 

Grade: A

 

P.S. This was the final film to feature both Karloff and Bela Lugosi, and while they may not have much screen time together here, seeing the two of them roll around trying to strangle each other feels like a fitting conclusion to their on-screen relationship.

 

#173. Gentleman Jim (1942)

 

 

Boxing movies tend to be either dark and depressing melodramas or high-stakes underdog stories, so it's kinda refreshing to see one that's so laid-back and easygoing, while still being full of life.

 

Much of that can be credited to the lighthearted, almost screwball nature of the screenplay, as well as Raoul Walsh's sturdy-yet-dynamic direction (both the bouts and the montages have some genuine energy to them), but the key ingredient here is clearly our leading man. I'm told that this was one of Errol Flynn's favourite roles, and you can easily see why. It plays to all of his strengths: charm, wit, physicality, attractiveness. Jim's a cocky fella, but Flynn plays it off so effortlessly and charmingly that you're always in his corner.

 

As much as I liked the buoyancy of this one, though, I have to admit that I found the narrative only occasionally gripping. What few subplots there are grew kinda repetitive to me after a while (it doesn't exactly help that the conflicts and arcs are so basic), and I think the movie largely runs out of steam before we get to the final fight. Fortunately, that belt scene wraps everything up quite nicely, while also providing some necessary heart.

 

Grade: B+

 

#164. The Picture of Dorian Gray (1945)

 

 

Regardless of your familiarity with Oscar Wilde, you can tell this movie's based on a book. The dialogue's intelligent, and the themes are potent, but the presentation is a little too stuffy for its own good. Everything's on the dry and talky side, with storytelling that simultaneously feels rushed and padded (as though some chapters are given far too much focus, while others have been ripped out entirely), and a whole lotta narration that, particularly in the middle hour, completely derails the momentum. 

 

Still, there's an old school gothic horror feel to the movie that mostly works. The cinematography, compositions, and sets are uniformly stunning, the actors (especially George Sanders) give these words some life, and the scenes featuring the actual portrait are truly unsettling. I adore the sparing-yet-striking use of colour for those insert shots, and the harsh musical stings that accompany them really add to the terror, in a proto-jump-scare kinda way. Plus, the ending is a solid payoff.

 

It's just a shame that this aspect takes such a backseat. If we spent as much time on the genre stuff as we do, say, Gray's inner turmoil, or the interchangeable romances, the movie likely would've had a much stronger hold on me.

 

Grade: B

 

#141. Thieves' Highway (1949)

 

 

Can't say I've ever seen a movie depict societal corruption through a crooked produce dealer before. That's certainly a new one.

 

Otherwise, though, Thieves' Highway is a pretty standard little noir, albeit still a good one. I was truthfully hoping for more of a straightforward revenge movie, or perhaps a truck thriller in the style of Wages of Fear, but I suppose the more low-key story about exploitation, greed, and apples, while less explosive than the other two directions, is still tense and character-driven in most of the ways that matter. 

 

What helps are a few of the supporting players. Lee J. Cobb is great in any role that requires him to scream at people, and there's something about Valentina Cortese's cool and effortless charm that I find mesmerizing. Both actors give these characters, and the world around them, a lot of flavour, and they - along with Jules Dassin and his crisp direction - really add to the movie's dark and cynical tone.

 

Many people seem to take issue with the ending, but it didn't really bother me. Like, yeah, the cops suddenly barging in and chastising our hero for not being a law-abiding citizen is obviously dreadful, but, notwithstanding, I can accept this kind of all-too-neat conclusion if I feel as though our heroes have earned it. And, in this case, I do.

 

Grade: B+

 

#123. Odd Man Out (1947)

 

 

Carol Reed sure knew how to stylize these kinds of movies, didn't he? Much like The Third Man, Odd Man Out is heavy on dark tones, tactile settings, and political anxieties, with a lot of shadowy figures in trench-coats running down backlit alleys (maybe my single favourite noir trope). So, at least texturally, this one's for me.

 

Structurally, I'm not so sure. I mean, I like that the movie spends the first half-hour presenting itself as a straightforward heist thriller only to shuffle around to different perspectives and genres as it goes along, but I think my problem is that I'm not always interested in these new perspectives. For every one that works, there's probably two that feel like unnecessary padding. And it doesn't help that the pacing slows down considerably once the crime stuff is out of the way.

 

Still, I guess it all comes together pretty well, both because it turns this character's incapacitated state into something of a journey and because this journey slowly paints a distinct portrait of the entire community. And, again, even when I wasn't super invested in the story, I was always captivated by the vivid moods and compositions.

 

Plus, it's nice to see a little blood in something this old. Gives the movie an added edge. 

 

Grade: B+

 

#114. Dragonwyck (1946)

 

 

This is one of those Gothic period melodramas, similar in story and style to Wuthering Heights and Rebecca. And, just like those two comparables, it works best when it leans into the quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) eeriness of its setting.

 

When we're trapped in this hauntingly beautiful titular castle, with its towering sets, spooky vibes, unsettling music, and creepy (is there any other kind?) turn from Vincent Price, we reach that level of dark pomp and circumstance that I find atmospherically irresistible. And the whole thing's captured with such glowing cinematography and measured pacing that it's hard to believe this was Joe Mankiewicz's first movie.

 

Well, okay, you can sometimes tell. The tone's not as consistent as I'd like, and the passage of time could've been communicated a lot better (months frequently pass out of nowhere, and minor characters [including one or two who seem kinda vital] completely vanish from the story without explanation). But while the overall execution is far from perfect, I think the scenes that focus on building character and mood mostly are.

 

Grade: B+

 

#92. The Devil and Daniel Webster (1941)

 

 

A.K.A. All That Money Can Buy, which was its original release title (in order to avoid confusion with The Devil and Miss Jones, another RKO production).

 

Satan's always a fun character to center a story around, right? Like, I get that the dude has by now been depicted so many times on screen that he's nowhere near as inherently intimidating as he once was, but I still think there's something dangerous and exciting about seeing this sinister figure tempt ordinary people with material possessions in exchange for their souls. 

 

Naturally, this is the area where The Devil and Daniel Webster makes the biggest impression. Beyond the fact that the drama's especially compelling here, Walter Huston really leans into the mischievous side of the character, and the effects used to generate the other supernatural beings are incredibly vivid. It's a lot of shadows and visual blurriness, which creates a certain dream-turned-nightmare atmosphere.

 

The overall story is pretty basic and familiar for the most part, and it tends to be somewhat light on the fantasy aspect for my liking, but there's also a folk tale quality to the movie that makes it feel slightly timeless. And while I can't put it in the same league as The Wizard of Oz or It's a Wonderful Life (though what is?), it's operating on similar levels of imagination and morality, further enhancing that classic appeal.

 

Grade: A-

 

#78. Saludos Amigos (1942)

 

 

There are now over sixty entries in the Disney Animated Canon, and it's my goal to eventually get to all of them, so I figured it was time I finally knocked one out.

 

We're all familiar with the struggles Disney was facing in the '40s, and how they needed to resort to cheap package films during the war to stay afloat. Well, Saludos Amigos was the first of those "films" (it's only forty-two minutes long), and it mostly exists as both a tax write-off and a government-funded piece of propaganda aimed at Latin American goodwill.

 

And, uh, you can tell. This barely feels like a completed movie, especially relative to Walt's first five features. But I guess that's the thing: you can't really compare it to Snow White or Pinocchio, because it couldn't afford to aim that high. In other words, you have to judge it on a bit of a curve. And, to that end, I suppose I can still appreciate the cute animation and well-intentioned attempts at integrating some culture, even if it's all quite dry and unengaging and inessential. 

 

Suffice it to say, had this movie been made by any other company, it probably would've been completely forgotten by now.

 

Grade: C+

 

#62. Watch on the Rhine (1943)

 

Propaganda sometimes has its place (especially when I agree with it, naturally). For instance, any anti-fascist movie made during WWII is one that I think deserves to exist. So while Watch on the Rhine has the usual trappings of preachy dialogue and heavy-handed messaging, I also found it refreshingly powerful in its directness.

 

Well, maybe not initially. For part of the runtime, I was more enamoured by the backstory, the family dynamics, and that enormous Washington home, and was typically turned off whenever the drab conflict would rear its head in the form of that Romanian aristocrat character. But then, once we reach the second half, everyone begins to lay their cards on the table, and the overall tone is suddenly so much more urgent and threatening that this friction became the most compelling aspect to me.

 

From here, the movie continues to be on the talky side, with characters spelling out their feelings in long, dignified speeches, but it's all handled with enough conviction and sincerity that I was able to buy into it. And Paul Lukas generates such sympathy with his performance that I can almost understand why Bogart lost Best Actor that year.

 

Grade: A-

 

#52. The Long Voyage Home (1940)

 

 

Here's a movie with a good foundation. I like the premise, about a group of fun-loving party animals aboard a tramp steamer during the war, and I like the cast that they put together to play this motley crew (particularly Thomas Mitchell, Barry Fitzgerald, and John Qualen). Frankly, any time a movie's about a minimal group of people in a claustrophobic setting, I'm in.

 

As a story, though, The Long Voyage Home didn't really grab me. I don't know if that's because it takes a little too long to get going or because it often lacks focus (either way, I'm concerned that the real reason is that I wasn't being patient enough), but I honestly only cared about these people when they were fighting for their lives on that soaking wet deck, or when one of them died. 

 

Fortunately, this is among John Ford's moodiest movies, thanks almost entirely to Gregg Toland's proto-noir cinematography (you can see the hints at Citizen Kane every once in a while, and those are always the strongest moments), so, even if the narrative wasn't hooking me, the melancholic tones and the shadowy visual textures were.

 

Grade: B

 

P.S. A possible indicator that I wasn't at my most engaged: I didn't realize John Wayne was attempting an accent until the final twenty minutes.

 

#39. Phantom Lady (1944)

 

 

When it comes to smaller noirs, I prefer a playful balance between serious and silly, between dark and light. And I think Phantom Lady finds that balance. It's got the grim tones and brooding atmospheres and life-or-death stakes that you'd hope to find, while also being strange and over-the-top enough (erotic drumming, sculptured heads, evil hands) that I'm still having a fun time.

 

Where the movie truly started cooking for me, though, was through the changing of protagonists. For the opening twenty minutes or so, we think this is Scott's story. But once he gets sentenced early on, we discover that the true lead is actually Kansas, and we're now going to follow her as she attempts to rescue him. It's a refreshing change of pace because, one, Ella Raines is a much better actor than Alan Curtis, and two, it inverts the femme fatale trope, and allows a woman to play detective (and an unambiguous noir hero) for once.

 

Even with a slight and largely implausible story, I enjoyed this somewhat subversive little mystery.

 

Grade: A-

 

#22. Easter Parade (1948)

 

 

There really is something transcendental about those sweet, simple Technicolor musicals of the '40s and '50s, isn't there?

 

That's not to say that they were all great movies or anything. Frankly, even Easter Parade has its faults, primarily in its story-heavy structuring and its emphasis on a love square that I didn't find particularly compelling (or convincing, for that matter; at the movie's conclusion, I found myself wondering if Garland was actually making the right decision). But then you remember just how warm, colourful, and lively the visuals are, and these issues suddenly seem a lot more trivial.

 

Plus, I should probably touch on the main selling point, which is obviously the extravagant dance numbers. I'm not sure that any of these songs have fully achieved immortality status (though "Steppin' Out with My Baby" must come close, especially in that one shot where Astaire's moving in slow motion against a background of normal-speed backup dancers), but that doesn't really matter. What matters is that Irving Berlin's tunes are so endearing and delightful, and watching these two leads perform together is such a genuine pleasure, that the best elements of this movie are just a joy to behold. 

 

Grade: B+