Killer’s Kiss

The Film Noir Odyssey

Writer: Howard Sackler

Story: Stanley Kubrick

Director: Stanley Kubrick

Cast: Frank Silvera, Jamie Smith, Irene Kane, Ruth Sobotka

Cinematography: Stanley Kubrick

Music: Gerald Fried

Studio: United Artists

Release: September 21, 1955

Back when I was studying Screenwriting at the American Film Institute Conservatory, we would have screenings of our student films followed by a meet-and-greet where we could gab and discuss. You could always tell what one of the Producing Fellows (we call them Fellows, not Students) thought because of what she said to the creative team after the movie. If she liked it, she would be complimentary, but if she didn’t, she would plaster on a nasty, fake-ass smile and tell the group: “You made a movie! Congrats!” To this day, I don’t know whether she thought everyone could not see through her obvious bullshit or if she knew we knew and decided to do it anyway. I somehow escaped her go-to line during the two-year program, but I still have much residual fury for my poor classmates.

I wondered what my former classmate would have said about “Killer’s Kiss.” Though technically Stanley Kubrick’s second feature as a director, it’s the first one that actually resembles a feature. Made on the most shoestring of shoestring budgets with Kubrick filling almost every behind-the-scenes position, the movie was snapped up by United Artists and effectively got Kubrick’s foot in the industry. The resulting film has many of the same weaknesses as those student films we made back at AFI, and is mainly interesting as a way for the viewer to search for hints of the genius that would blossom later.

Our main character is Davey (Jamie Smith), a boxer who is realizing that he has just passed his expiration date. He lives in an apartment building across from a dancer named Gloria (Irene Kane) whose boss Vincent (Frank Silvera) is an asshole who mistreats her terribly. One day Davey spies Gloria getting nearly beaten to death by Vincent, and chases the monster. Davey and Gloria fall in love and Gloria decides to quit her job, but Vincent isn’t going to let her go without a fight. Things escalate, and before you know it, Davey is being chased across New York City rooftops, battling for his life.

The movie is 67 minutes long and has about 25 minutes worth of plot in it. Kubrick stretches the material to its breaking point… and a little beyond… and seems less interested in making any character in the main trio three-dimensional and more interested in putting them in interesting positions in frame and then holding the take for several seconds too long. Again, this is a film school rookie mistake, and also understandable because of Kubrick’s background as a photographer. Davey is notable for being shirtless a lot (thanks for that, Stanley!) and reading letters/getting phone calls from a relative back home who sounds exactly like Danny DeVito. There’s never a moment where his sadness about being past his prime has any real resonance, with Kubrick instead making sure we get to see a shot of Davey’s face behind a fishbowl while feeding the fish.

There are several moments and sequences that are tremendous – an early montage of flyers advertising Davey’s fight works like gangbusters. A monologue about a ballerina seems to come out of nowhere, but Kubrick holds it so long that it becomes ingenious. And there are several moments in the climactic chase, particularly the ones on the fire escape, that are beautifully rendered. But there are other moments and shots in the fight which are taken at weird distances and held for far too many frames – ruining any sort of pacing or tension that was build previously. I understand why Kubrick chose shots like those… you don’t have to worry about coverage and let the background do the work for you. And had there only been two or three shots like that, fine. But there are dozens here.

The trio of main actors work quite well considering their lack of experience and the circumstances upon which they were made to act. And by that, I mean lots of dialogue dubbing, no finalized script and wandering through outdoor sequences knowing that their dialogue would be dropped. In many ways, this type of movie is more akin to something a silent movie performer would give. Smith has an odd voice, but is fantastically athletic and his face shows tension very, very well.

I also have a soft spot for “Killer’s Kiss” for a reason that has nothing to do with the movie itself. For years, several shots from the film were utilized in the bookends to late night movies shown on TCM. I can think of the diner and the shot of Gloria in front of the mirror specifically, and watching the movie for the first time this week gave me major nostalgia hits for those nights when I stayed up past midnight to check out those lesser-known old movies that deep-dive film buffs like me were eager to find.

And that’s fitting since “Killer’s Kiss” feels like one of those movies. It’s an odd thing to think that so many filmgoers are big enough fans of Kubrick that they actively seek out this well-executed experiment, happy to spend a little over an hour diving into a work simply to watch Kubrick find his sea legs with filmmaking. Does it work as an actual feature film? Kinda sorta maybe if you squint. I’ll remember images from it, but not the narrative. It’s made with more artistic quality than several of the disasters I’ve seen on this Odyssey, but no one would give a damn if Kubrick’s name was not attached. Movies like this are best found as bonus features on Criterion discs, so it’s fitting that it’s located on Criterion’s stacked release of Kubrick’s next feature, “The Killing,” which I’ll be covering next week.

Score: **

The Big Steal

The Film Noir Odyssey

Writer: Gerald Drayson Adams and Daniel Mainwaring

Based on the short story “The Road to Carmichael’s” by Richard Wormser

Director: Don Siegel

Cast: Robert Mitchum, Jane Greer, William Bendix

Cinematography: Harry J. Wild

Music: Leigh Harline

Release: July 1, 1949

Studio: RKO

“The Big Steal” is a joy to watch.

When I queued it up and saw that it was set in Mexico, I immediately sighed. Films from this timeframe (and long after) generally have been very cringe-inducing when looked at from a modern perspective. I figured that the best-case scenario was going to be brownface and lots of stereotypes. Worst-case scenario is an entire culture are treated as savages in addition to the above.

Imagine my genuine surprise that the film has none of those things. I believe it was shot fully on location in Mexico, embraces the culture, allows its Mexican characters to be the smartest people in the room and – unless I completely misread something – has not a single actor in brownface. What a breath of fresh air!

The fact that the rest of the movie is great is a perfect bonus.

Robert Mitchum stars as Duke Halliday, who is an army lieutenant robbed of $300,000 in payroll by Jim (Patric Knowles) and follows him into Mexico to get the money back. Halliday is pursued by Captain Blake (William Bendix), who thinks Halliday stole the money for himself. Into the mess walks Joan (Jane Greer), who was engaged to Jim before he stole $2000 from her bank account, and now she’s also in Mexico to get it back. Halliday and Joan team up to get their respective monies back, resulting in a cross-country road trip, except one with guns, bruises and a couple dead bodies.

The film is probably most remembered as a re-teaming of Mitchum and Greer after their pairing in the iconic masterpiece “Out of the Past.” Comparisons are inevitable, and this is a shame, because “The Big Steal” is such a different, lighter, brighter film… and because comparing a relatively “happy” movie to perhaps the most iconic, depressing film noir of all time will leave critics siding with the “deep” movie time after time. And yet, here “The Big Steal” sits, wanting so much to engage you and make you smile, no matter what shadows from other films envelop it.

Don Siegal (“Invasion of the Body Snatchers”) directed, and is not the type of filmmaker associated with this type of caper film. But he creates the world with such a light touch that you wish he would have done movies like this more often. He allows his location work to do all the talking in several scenes – from breakneck chases down the Mexican countryside that end when Halliday herds a bunch of goats into the road (!) to a gorgeous vacation spot where the swimming hole has hundreds-if-not-thousands of flower petals floating in the water. I cannot underline this enough – thanks to Siegal, the film is a love letter to a country so wrongly maligned in most American films for nearly a century. Bravo, sir.

The screenplay is also eager to twist stereotypes into something fresh. Written by Gerald Drayson Adams (“Armored Car Robbery”) and Daniel Mainwaring (“The Phenix City Story”), it is never more so evident in the character of Inspector General Ortega (Ramon Novarro). He speaks in broken English, setting specific expectations for the audience, but is consistently four steps ahead of all the main characters, and in the film’s finale, the protagonist essentially steps aside so Ortega can monologue about his plan.

I feel like this article is turning into me just being shocked and praising a movie for not being super racist, which is a little unfair to the quality of the film itself. “The Big Steal” doesn’t make a big deal about any of the above things… it’s more concerned in enveloping you in its fun, twisted narrative. For a movie which is ostensibly one long chase sequence, the writers manage to craft a lot of cool twists for its characters, from mistaken identities to Blake’s true motivation reveal in the third act. Other small details that could be giant McGuffins in other films (where the money is hidden, for example) are simply details in the background that, when revealed (Jim hid the cash in the tires!), make you appreciate how smart they are.

Mitchum would go on to send up the noir genre once again in 1951’s classic “His Kind of Woman,” which this is in many ways a rehearsal for. He seems to be having a blast in every scene, his chemistry with Greer sparkling once more (though in a completely different way). Greer also seems to be relishing such a playful character, and Joan’s banter with Halliday left me smiling whenever they were in a room, or car, together. Bendix doesn’t have much to do except look frustrated, but when he finally gets the spotlight in the third act, he makes it count. Novarro and Knowles are lesser known to me, but provide excellent supporting work throughout.

I also love that the movie doesn’t run out of gas (sorry) in the third act. Chase movies in general begin to stumble when their characters finally reach their destination, but that is not the case here. The aforementioned twists concerning character motivations keeps things fresh, and I love the extra care taken sketching the “money man,” who cares more about his ancient artifacts than he does the money. It’s also the only part of the movie that really exploits those classic noir shadows (shout out to cinematographer Harry J. Wild, who lensed “Murder, My Sweet”), and boy does it do that well for the climactic sequence.

“The Big Steal” is one of those great films that is ripe for rediscovery and re-evaluation. It’s aged much, much better than most comparable noir films… and is also just a damn good movie. If you’ve never had the opportunity, it’s worth taking the time to seek it out. It’ll make you smile.

Score: *****

The Prowler

The Film Noir Odyssey

Writer: Dalton Trumbo (uncredited)

Director: Joseph Losey

Cast: Van Heflin, Evelyn Keyes, John Maxwell

Cinematography: Arthur C. Miller

Music: Lyn Murray

Studio: United Artists

Release: May 25, 1951

“The Prowler” is one of the most batshit noir films I have ever seen. If you showed me five minutes from the first act, then five minutes from the third act, I would believe I was watching two different films with the same ensemble of actors. I’m pretty sure this is a good movie… but I am certain it’s an audacious one.

After married Susan (Evelyn Keyes) discovers a prowler outside her home, she calls the police – the two officers investigating are Bud (John Maxwell) and Webb (Van Heflin). Webb returns later that night and proceeds to get his claws in Susan, and they begin an affair that ultimately ends with him murdering her husband after setting up the scene to make it look like he thought he was killing a prowler. Yes, that escalated quickly. Susan is pissed and rightly calls out Webb for his actions, but he manages to gaslight his way back to her. They are married, but she is already four months pregnant with his child, which obviously means they have to hide in a desert ghost town until she has the child… and during their time there, they go from wedded bliss to the final act of “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.” I told you it was crazy.

Prowler, The (1951) | Pers: Evelyn Keyes, Van Heflin | Dir: Joseph Losey | Ref: PRO023AE | Photo Credit: [ The Kobal Collection / United Artists ] | Editorial use only related to cinema, television and personalities. Not for cover use, advertising or fictional works without specific prior agreement

This is famously one of the three noir screenplays that Dalton Trumbo rushed out before being jailed for his “Un-American” activities – the other two being “Gun Crazy” and “He Ran All the Way.” Not a bad trio at all, though Trumbo would get credit for none of them until years later. Thematically, he’s playing with a lot (maybe too much?) including obvious bits about class difference and materialism. The most interesting, fucked up thing is that he has Webb legitimately fall in love with Susan… in his mind, all of his manipulations are worth it because the endgame is a happily ever after for them.

I’m also frankly surprised how well the Susan character works. The gaslighting makes her sympathetic and therefore it’s easier to root for her, even when she’s doing terrible things… like starting an affair with a man whose first few sentences addressing her were insults. But the character’s strength in the final reel, as she puts the pieces together and throws fiery accusations his way moments after giving birth, results in several great moments.

That said, the movie is also scattershot in its execution, specifically with an unnecessary subplot about Webb’s partner Bud and his wife, which isn’t interesting and the payoff ultimately isn’t worth the time and minutes the movie invests in it. The logic of why they must go to the desert is faulty at best, and the more exposition spent on supporting the move only underlines how silly it is. There’s also the question of the movie’s final moments, where Webb is brutally gunned down (he’s shot in the back!) even though he didn’t threaten anyone and any connection to the death of Susan’s husband remains fleeting at best. Storytelling-wise, I understand the want for the brutal finish, but a few slight tweaks could have made it feel more realistic.

Then again, the movie is purposely messy in many ways. It tries to do a lot of things, and I’d rather have a film that does this and doesn’t quite achieve its goals rather than something that is so safe that you forget it moments after finishing it. For example, I covered “Thunder on the Hill” last week and can barely remember a frame of it today.

Heflin is fine as Webb – it’s an incredibly difficult role to play and a lesser actor could have easily sank the entire thing, so the fact that Heflin manages to pull off as much as he does deserves commendation. Keyes’ role is also nigh-impossible to pull off, but she rocks it. The scene in court where she testifies about the death of her husband is stunning, frankly, and could be studied for its subtle work. Trumbo has an uncredited cameo as the voice of Susan’s husband on the radio, though when we see him, he’s played by a different actor. The rest of the cast is meh… no one is terrible, but no one else makes much of an impression.

The director is the always-interesting Joseph Losey (the “M” remake), and his work here is well-executed. I especially enjoyed the visual contrast between Susan’s gigantic home in the first act of the film and the broken-down home she and Webb live in during the third act, complete with a fallen-in wall that features a beautiful view of the mountains. This is the final film credit for journeyman cinematographer Arthur C. Miller, which included the noir films “Whirlpool” and “Man Hunt,” plus a bunch of Academy Awards and nominations, and it’s a beautifully rendered send-off. Both Losey and Miller seem to come to life during that third act in the ghost town, finding new and interesting angles to capture the desolate landscape surrounding our main characters.

Though Heflin was a star at the time and the film seems to have a substantive-enough budget, “The Prowler” really feels like a fast-and-dirty noir from Poverty Row. I mean that as a compliment… its audacity is its biggest strength. Well, that and the fact that it has its own perverted heart in the form of its main couple. Are we supposed to root for them? Are we supposed to pity them? Judge them? All three? Despite its myriad of problems, this is one of those movies that lingers with you. It haunts your thoughts hours and days after you finish it. Any movie with that kind of staying power deserves my recommendation.

Score: ****

Thunder on the Hill

The Film Noir Odyssey

Writer: Oscar Saul and Andrew Solt

Based on the play by Charlotte Hastings

Director: Douglas Sirk

Cast: Claudette Colbert, Ann Blyth, Robert Douglas

Cinematography: William H. Daniels

Music: Hans J. Salter

Studio: Universal Pictures

Release: October 17, 1951

So you’ve got an isolated convent/hospital on a hill that is cut off from civilization due to storms… and one of the nuns is solving a murder mystery. If you just started drooling a little bit, you are not alone. Take that premise, throw in the excellent creative team behind the film, and you’ve got something that seems nearly impossible to screw up.

So why aren’t I having any fun?

Claudette Colbert stars as Sister Mary, head of the hospital wing at the aforementioned convent/hospital cut off from the outside world. Stuck with her is convicted murderess Valerie (Ann Blyth), brought in when the storms were at their peak. She’s sentenced to die tomorrow, but now has a reprieve until the way back to civilization is clear. But did she actually kill her brother?

Luckily and oh-so-coincidentally, the rest of the suspects in the murder are also in the building. The victim’s doctor (Robert Douglas) is now working at the convent. The doctor’s wife (Anne Crawford) is hanging around too and seems about ready to faint every time the victim is brought up. Simple-minded Willie (Michael Pate) keeps threatening to beat nurses he doesn’t like with shovels, as one does. And nasty Mother Superior (Gladys Cooper) forces Sister Mary to destroy evidence. Who could the killer be?

All the ingredients are here for a rollicking good time. And ace screenwriters Oscar Saul (“Road House”) and Andrew Solt (“In a Lonely Place”) do have a lot of fun with the set-up, and to their credit find several intriguing and creative sequences to extend the mystery. Most notable is one where Sister Mary and her sidekick wander through the convent, checking all the shelves that are lined with old newspapers to search for any mention of Valerie’s trial. Trust me, it’s a lot more engaging than it sounds. Plus, the scene where Mother Superior lambasts Sister Mary and forces her to destroy the one scrap of evidence that could save Valerie is quite the barnburner.

And yet the mystery itself is just a bland whodunnit that could barely sustain an episode of “The Father Dowling Mysteries,” let alone a feature. When you have such an awesome location as an isolated convent with a hospital, you expect that location to be exploited well and feel like a natural part of the mystery. But no, you could essentially pluck the entire ensemble and drop them into a cul-de-sac in Akron and nothing much would change, which is a damn shame. And there are no real twists – the moment a character mentions that two aspirin had replaced medication, you know it’s the Doctor and the rest of the movie the viewer is waiting for everyone else to catch up. Think of how much better the story would have been if nuns started to be offed during the running time… was it Valerie escaping from her room or the real killer? Or mysterious overdoses being administered in the hospital killing patients who know too much? But by keeping everything interesting in the past, the plot doesn’t have anywhere to go.

Sister Mary is a problematic main character. Again, I love the idea of a nun solving murders… I’d totally watch all four seasons of that procedural on CBS. But the writers don’t understand who she is supposed to be. Characters either refer to her as the nicest, kindest, sweetest woman ever in the history of time… or a hard, selfish wildcard who is unpredictable and rules over her world with an iron fist. Those two descriptions in no way match. Colbert can do the first part in her sleep, but can’t handle the second part. The actress’ superpower is that you always want to give her a hug, and so when Sister Mary needs to appear more assertive, it doesn’t work. Which is a shame, because a nun solving the crime to dole out “God’s righteous fury” could have been fucking amazing. Instead, Mother Superior and Sister Mary’s friend Sister Josephine (Connie Gilchrist) both leave a bigger impression than the lead of the film. To be clear, that’s never a good thing.

Director Douglas Sirk made a few noir films on his way to perfecting the melodrama later in the ‘50s, including the terrible “Shockproof” and the excellent “Lured.” This feels like it should have been right in his comfort zone. To be sure, there are some very cool visual sequences. In one, Sister Mary and Willie escape the convent with a boat Willie procured and navigate into town to find Valerie’s love interest. The boat weaves though the waters, past trees where the water line begins at their high branches. It’s a grand scene – the cinematography is by William H. Daniels (“Brute Force”) – and is a perfect meshing of almost gothic horror trappings and noir. At the climax, the killer is about to murder Sister Mary and she desperately begins to pull the convent’s bell-rope to get attention, which is ingenious. But these are the exception, not the rule. And it’s moments like that where you know how excellent the film could have been if everyone brought their A-game, which honestly makes the viewing experience more frustrating.

“Thunder on the Hill” could have and should have been a rollicking murder mystery noir. But despite all the possibilities, I can’t recommend it. It’s a shame this one missed the mark – we should all pray that some ingenious filmmaker takes those same ideas and creates the masterpiece that you know is somewhere in these broken parts.

Score: **