Crime Wave

CRIME WAVE          A-                   

USA  (73 mi)  1954  d:  André de Toth

You know, it isn’t what a man wants to do, Lacey, but what he has to do.  Now take me — I love to smoke cigarettes, but the doctors say I can’t have them.  So what do I do?  I chew toothpicks, tons of them.

—Detective Lieutenant Sims (Sterling Hayden)  Note – de Toth refused to allow Hayden to smoke on the set, hoping to contribute to an extra level of grumpiness and hostility from Hayden’s performance

A film that wastes no time getting into the heart of the action, becoming a fast-paced, hard-edged crime caper, an obscure, underrated low-budget noir thriller that unfolds in something approaching real time, a formulaic story driven by detail, shot with visual flair and a heavy dose of authenticity, highlighted by tough-as-nails Sterling Hayden as Detective Lieutenant Sims, an intimidating presence, always shot from a low angle by cameraman Bert Glennon, making sure he towers over everyone else, a cop on the case who wants to use ex-felons as stool pigeons, a model for CHINATOWN (1974) and L.A. Confidential (1997) in the stark realism and use of actual shooting locations, featuring an all-too-jaded Los Angeles landscape.  Directed by Hungarian émigré André de Toth, who lost his sight in one eye from a childhood accident, wearing a black eyepatch, which nearly cost him his life, according to his own personal memoirs entitled Fragments: Portraits from the Inside, as he was kidnapped while scouting for locations in Egypt shortly after the the Yom Kippur War of 1973, pistol-whipped and beaten to a pulp during a fierce interrogation session, mistaken for Moyshe Dayan, Israeli General and Defense Minister, released only after an examination of his genitalia revealed he wasn’t even Jewish.  After obtaining a law degree in Budapest, he wrote plays and worked in the theater before making the jump to movies, making seven Hungarian films before fleeing the country when he was forced to direct Nazi propaganda movies, eventually making his way to Hollywood where he directed the searingly intense war drama NONE SHALL ESCAPE (1944) before pivoting to making a series of grim, psychological westerns.  Marrying screen siren Veronica Lake, he retained a strong Hungarian accent, cut from the same mold as other hard-living men like John Ford or John Huston, where he was known in Hollywood as a cowboy, painter, and sculptor, developing a reputation as a thrill-seeker who piloted his own airplanes, drove race cars, and loved playing polo, marrying seven times with 19 children.  When offered the film, the studios wanted Humphrey Bogart and Ava Gardner to star, anticipating a 35 day shoot.  The director refused to use big named stars, preferring more autonomy on the set and the ability to select his own cast.  Jack Warner threw a fit, cutting the budget while reducing the film shoot to just 15 days, and then didn’t release the film until 2 years after it was completed, perhaps out of spite.  But this film, an intense psychological study of crime and punishment, caught the attention of not only Stanley Kubrick, using many of the same themes and actors in THE KILLING (1956), including its documentary visual style as well as the impossible notion of pulling off the “perfect crime,” but it was also one of the favorites of Jean-Pierre Melville, listed at #4 on a list compiled by crime writer James Ellroy, James Ellroy Selects His Ten Favourite Crime Films – July '98. 

Adapted from the short story Criminal Mark by John and Ward Hawkins, originally appearing in The Saturday Evening Post, the film opens from the back seat of a car, much like the heralded scene in Gun Crazy (1950), now standard Hollywood procedure as the car pulls into a gas station, where we hear the radio sounds of Doris Day singing George and Ira Gershwin’s Doris Day - S'Wonderful - YouTube (1:36), and right off the bat the lighthearted mood disappears when something goes terribly wrong during a heist, making off with only chump change, but shooting a cop, while one of the robbers takes a bullet to his gut, breaking up afterwards, with the injured man in a car while the other two exit on foot.  What sets this apart is the use of radio broadcasts, as immediately details go out over the police airwaves, identifying the location of the incident, a description of the robbers, and the make of the car, which repeats incessantly, adding the location of a stolen vehicle, as we see the woman speaking into the microphone relaying the messages, leading to the transmission inside the police station where Sims has been listening, setting up a perimeter around the stolen vehicle, including the names and addresses of former convicts.  With police roadblocks set up to block all avenues of escape, criminals routinely seek help and assistance from former convicts now on the outside, like their own version of the Underground Railroad, offering them protection and safety, though sometimes at the point of a gun, with suggestions that you can never outrun the mistakes of your past.  Rounding up the usual suspects and informers (actually borrowing footage from Gun Crazy), where routine police work is viewed as bullying reluctant witnesses, who appear as ordinary citizens, with the camera following Sims as he moves down a line of desks, one by one, each a revelation of harrowing backstories that feel as if they’ve been interrupted midstream, quickly realizing this is the work of a trio of convicts who recently escaped from San Quintin prison, doing a series of smalltime holdups on their way down the highway to Los Angeles.  Simultaneously, Morgan (Nedrick Young, blacklisted writer and actor), the wounded man, shows up at the doorstep of Steve Lacey (professional dancer Gene Nelson), a former convict trying to go straight, along with his assertive wife Ellen (model turned actress Phyllis Kirk), joined shortly afterwards by Otto Hessler (Jay Novello), another former convict, an alcoholic veterinarian who lost his medical license, summoned to patch up Morgan, but he dies before any work can be done to save him, with Hessler rifling through his pockets taking the money.  Sims hauls in Lacey, suspecting his involvement right from the outset, but he doesn’t squawk, so he learns little, letting him cool his heels in jail for 3 days before trying to enlist him to work a sting operation in San Diego, the most recent sighting of the convicts, but he refuses to play along, eventually releasing him. 

The other two convicts are identified as the smooth talking ‘Doc’ Penny (Ted de Corsia) and his muscle, Ben Hastings (Charles Buchinsky, aka Charles Bronson), who circled back to LA, thinking the cops would never suspect to look for them there, hiding out in Lacey’s apartment, surprising him upon his return home, enlisting him in their foolproof getaway after pulling off a bank heist Penny has been planning for seven years, right down to the last detail, arrogantly thinking he can outsmart the cops, embracing the idea of the “perfect crime.”  Using Lacey’s pilot skills, their getaway includes flying safely into Mexico, as Lacey works nearby at a small airport as an engineer, knowing the ins and outs of the operation, including the security rounds, pulling him into their heist, threatening to harm his wife if he doesn’t play along.  Having no options, basically kidnapped at gunpoint, he becomes the getaway driver, quickly moving to new quarters where a lecherous ex-con Johnny Haslett (Timothy Carey) will keep a close watch over the wife while the heist takes place, refusing to release her unless the police radio confirms a successful getaway.  Another backseat camera leads viewers to the bank, circling around the block after dropping off Penny and Hastings, who enter as typical customers, while a third man Zenner (James Hayward) is disguised as a meter reader, entering through the back, cutting off the bank’s electricity at a designated time, when all mayhem breaks loose, with Lacey hearing the gunshots.  Using a series of rapid edits, the scene erupts into utter chaos with everyone caught offguard.  As Sims approaches Lacey sitting in his car, he speeds off, with Sims following in hot pursuit, making a mad dash back to his wife, who is being manhandled by Haslett when he arrives, quickly pouncing on him.  By the time Sims gets there, the two have tumbled down an outdoor staircase with police standing by (among the most incredible stairway falls in film history).  While an All Points Bulletin has been announced over the airwaves with Lacey “Wanted for Murder,” it appears that his worst fears have been realized, that Sims has him dead to rights, following his lead right from the beginning, believing “once a crook, always a crook.”  Despite Lacey’s insistence that he had no choice, Sims cuts him off, revealing the bank clerks were all planted cops, laying in wait for the outlaws, offering a perfect counter defense, which is like rewinding the crime scene in our heads, putting a different spin on each face.  At 73-minutes, set in an ever expanding nocturnal cityscape, the meticulous precision of the shot selection reveals an economy of no wasted material, finishing under budget and under schedule, shot in just 13 days, tense and suspenseful throughout, and still full of surprises, where Sterling Hayden, in particular, is terrific as the brash toothpick-chewing cop, used by James Ellroy as the model for hard-boiled cop Bud White in L.A. Confidential (1997).    

Ace in the Hole

ACE IN THE HOLE              A                    

aka:  The Big Carnival

USA  (111 mi)  1951  d:  Billy Wilder

This Billy Wilder film was so tough and brutal in its cynicism that it died a sudden death at the box office, and they re-released it under the title ‘Big Carnival,’ which didn’t help.  Chuck Tatum is a reporter who’s very modern—he’ll do anything to get the story, to make up the story!  He risks not only his reputation, but also the life of this guy who’s trapped in the mine. 

—Martin Scorsese

A grim and pitiless portrait of media manipulation through fake news or yellow journalism that accentuates the most vile human instincts, becoming one of the most scathing indictments of American culture ever produced by a Hollywood filmmaker and a candidate for the most cynical film of all time, with capitalism never looking so heartlessly corrupt, yet this strange phenomena that draws crowds to accident sites or raunchy scandals has never been more grotesquely captivating onscreen, basically indicting spectators for their own voyeuristic tendencies.  Like professional wrestlers that change their persona from bad guys to good guys literally overnight when the right financial offer comes around, Kirk Douglas did pretty much the same thing, starring as an amorally driven villain early in his career before becoming that recognizable heroic figure on the screen.  Billy Wilder draws out his burning intensity, driven by copious amounts of unscrupulous ambition, literally staring into the void of a dark and desperate soul, where his charisma and personal magnetism light up the screen, providing a performance for the ages, where one would be hard-pressed to find a better and more edgy performance throughout his legendary career, though my personal preference leans towards a calmer and much more likable persona in LONELY ARE THE BRAVE (1962), which is reportedly the actor’s favorite as well.  Written by Wilder, Lesser Samuels and Walter Newman, there are some who suggest that the film is humorless, that Wilder dropped his uncanny knack for comedy, but Wilder’s satire is so savagely brutal that many simply overlooked the small treasure troves happening right before their eyes.  Wilder’s acerbic wit and gift for dialogue are legendary, as witty a wordsman as there ever was in the business, yet the film’s opening is an infamous sight gag, with Douglas calmly reading the newspaper in his convertible car while he’s being towed into town, notifying the driver to pull over in front of a newspaper office, as if he’s riding a cab, and telling him to wait while he steps inside for some unfinished business.  Douglas is Chuck Tatum, a morally dubious newspaper reporter charged with nefarious deeds who’s been kicked out of a multitude of offices stretching all across the country from New York to California, now finding himself in the dry desert vacuousness of Albuquerque, New Mexico pleading for a job.  Out of money and out of options, he sells himself to newspaper owner and editor of the Albuquerque Sun-Bulletin, Jacob Q. Boot (Porter Hall), as if he’s getting the greatest deal of his life, willing to work at a major discount.  Promising to make the editor $200 bucks, his logic sounds strangely self-serving, “Mr. Boot, I’m a 250 dollar a week newspaperman.  I can be had for $50.”  Notice the small touch of Boot returning his nickel (the price of a paper) when Tatum criticizes the paper for its anemic coverage, and the embroidered motto hanging on the wall, “Tell the truth.”  Among the more humorous lines, Tatum describes Boot as a cautious and conservative man who takes no chances, “I’ve done a lot of lying in my time.  I’ve lied to men who wear belts.  I’ve lied to men who wear suspenders.  But I’d never be so stupid as to lie to a man who wears both belt and suspenders.”  While this is small-time America, land of redemption and opportunities, Boot takes a chance with Tatum and offers him a job, but remains skeptical of Tatum’s hustler tactics, where the man knows how to sell a story, more of a snake oil salesman and renowned huckster than an accurate reporter.

Tatum feels like a caged animal locked up in this dead-end town that feels like he’s been sentenced to a wasteland, calling it a “sun-baked Siberia,” a city reporter at heart, moaning about missing the bright lights of the big city where there’s always something important happening to write about, complaining about everything under the sun in this blistering diatribe, Ace in the Hole (2/8) Movie CLIP - Small Town Blues (1951) HD YouTube (2:42), before being sent out of town on assignment to cover a rattlesnake hunt, bringing along young cub photographer Herbie (Robert Arthur), but they get sidetracked along the way.  The tone of the film shifts radically once they pull into a gas station that doubles as a tourist trap selling burgers and Indian trinkets, resembling a trading post, where the sign says it’s free to enter to search for Indian artifacts in the nearby caves of ancient Navajo cliff dwellings, with a police vehicle speeding to the site, which attracts Tatum’s attention, meeting Lorraine (Jan Sterling) who is bringing blankets and coffee for her husband, quickly discovering Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict), owner of the establishment that bears his name, is trapped inside a cave-in while searching for hidden treasures, stuck under giant rocks blocking his exit, buried several hundred feet underground.  Tatum immediately takes charge, smelling a big story, pushing the young deputy out of the way and heading into the cave himself, bringing Herbie and the blankets along with his camera, where falling dirt and debris is a constant in the make-shift mine shaft that has been all but deserted for years.  Tatum befriends Leo, encouraging him, offering him hope, while behind the scenes prolonging what should be a one-day rescue operation into several days by copping an exclusive deal with a corrupt local sheriff (Ray Teal) while his story makes headlines around the country, all drawing attention to this lone man’s plight, luring tourists and other interested gawkers from miles around, making this the biggest story in the country.  Tatum’s ferocious drive to string this story out for days is nothing less than mind-boggling, throwing out all journalistic integrity, describing Leo as his “ace in the hole,” while he lies, cheats, and intentionally misleads the public, creating a public charade, like intentionally organizing a planned train wreck promising none of the passengers would be hurt.  His pushy, big city charisma allows him to coerce the rescue team to change their tactics, luring them with overtime dollar signs, convincing them to place a drill on the top of the mountain directly overhead, traveling a much greater distance through solid rock (it sounds utterly disastrous when they finally break through, leaving the victim totally exposed to flying debris), which should take them nearly a week instead of shoring up the flimsy walls with needed support at the cave opening that would take less than a day.  Literally overnight, what was once free now costs 25 cents to enter, eventually rising to a dollar, declaring proceeds will go to the “Leo Minosa Rescue Fund,” or straight into Lorraine’s pockets, creating a sprawling open-air circus environment as radio and TV crews arrive with live reports, songs are written and performed just for the occasion, while thousands of tourists set up camp with trucks hauling in amusement park rides, creating a carnivalesque spectacle of hyped media exploitation, all at Leo’s expense, shot with an unvarnished look of a documentary film by Charles Lang, growing unrelentingly grim, painting an uncompromising portrait of human nature at its worst, suggesting everyone has the potential to be corrupt. 

With that relentless drill pounding away at the mountain top, as if digging into the deep recesses of the subconscious in search of the last traces of Tatum’s vanishing humanity, an important figure in the film is Lorraine, the noirish femme fatale character, who happens to be a mirror image of Tatum, expressing no love lost for her husband, actually seething with contempt, threatening to leave him several times in the past, bored with her life in the middle of nowhere, pretty much despising the desolate emptiness, preferring the immediate gratification of big city enticements.  The extent to which she shamelessly shows little concern for Leo’s predicament contrasts mightily with his own parents, as Papa Minosa (John Berkes) helps feed the rescue team and remains a constant presence while Mama Minosa (Frances Dominguez) continually prays at a religious shrine, laboriously keeping the candles lit, an expression of her devout religious faith.  Tatum and Lorraine are rogue figures that operate alone in a moral vacuum, thinking only about what’s in it for them, thinking the rest of the people are saps to be taken advantage of, showing no faith whatsoever in humanity.  The story is inspired by real news events, one referenced by Tatum himself, an incident in 1925 when cave explorer Floyd Collins, heralded as “The Greatest Cave Explorer Ever Known,” was trapped inside a Kentucky cave following a landslide, with a Louisville newspaper sending a reporter, William Burke “Skeets” Miller, to the scene, where his coverage became a media sensation (The 1925 Cave Rescue That Captivated the Nation | Mental ...), with throngs of sensation-hungry tourists descending on the cave site, where the atmosphere resembled a county fair, selling hot dogs while offering amusement rides for kids, all but forgetting about the personal tragedy that drove them there in the first place, turning the incident (which lasted 18 days) into a nationwide event, winning himself a Pulitzer Prize.  The second event took place in 1949 a year before the film’s release when a 3-year old, Kathy Fiscus, fell into an abandoned well just outside Pasadena, California, with a television news reporter following the rescue attempt live on the air for more than 24 consecutive hours, creating such a stir that thousands of people arrived on the scene to watch the action unfold.  In both incidents, the victims died before they could be rescued.  Additionally, Wilder was sued for plagiarism by screenwriter Victor Desny, who claimed he called Wilder’s secretary in November 1949 to propose a film based upon the story of Floyd Collins.  While the historical event was public knowledge, hardly protected by copyright laws, the initial decision in 1953 ruled in Wilder’s favor, but Desny won on appeal in 1956 when the California Supreme Court ordered Wilder to pay $14,350 (equivalent to $135,000 in 2019).  It all makes for a strange saga.  This savagely depicted satire, a predecessor to Kubrick’s Granddaddy of black comedy DR. STRANGELOVE OR:  HOW I LEARNED TO STOP WORRYING AND LOVE THE BOMB (1964) and Sidney Lumet’s nightmarish Network (1976), was largely ignored by the viewing public, excoriated by the American press (“Fuck them all,” said Wilder, “It is the best picture I ever made”), while winning an International award in Europe at the Venice Film Festival, released into a lengthy period of obscurity for half a century until resurrected by a DVD release in 2007, making it one of the rare Wilder misfires at the box office, who, to his credit, refused to sugarcoat the subject matter, yet the scathing, no holds barred approach by the director has been heralded over time and now stands as one of Wilder’s best films, brutally honest and way ahead of its time in conveying the media circus surrounding a tragedy.  Among the best known examples in the past century are the Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925 pitting Darwinian science against religious fundamentalism, the Lindberg baby kidnapping trial of 1935, dubbed the trial of the century, the 1963 Kennedy assassination and accompanying funeral procession, the bipartisan Watergate hearings from 1972 to 74 ultimately leading to a Presidential resignation, the prolonged, daily grind of the 9-month O.J. Simpson murder trial in 1995, and the hype surrounding Princess Diana’s funeral in 1997, all of which received sensationalist, wall-to-wall media coverage, completely occupying the mindset of the nation and even the world for a brief period of time.  

Time never lies, and 'Ace in the Hole' is by no means a blank ...  Cinephilia & Beyond