Showing posts with label Cornell Woolrich. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cornell Woolrich. Show all posts

Thursday, May 8, 2025

Classic Films in Focus: NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES (1948)

I hadn't heard of Night Has a Thousand Eyes (1948) before The Criterion Channel included it in a trio of noir films directed by John Farrow, the other two being The Big Clock (1948) and Alias Nick Beal (1949). The most obscure of the three, Night Has a Thousand Eyes is still a fascinating picture, thanks to a supernatural story originally written by Cornell Woolrich and a great performance by Edward G. Robinson as the tragic protagonist. Like the other Farrow pictures in the set, this one starts at a pivotal moment and then backtracks to the events that created the crisis of the opening scene, which gives the viewer a kind of precognition, too. While Night Has a Thousand Eyes benefits from the performances of Robinson, Russell, William Demarest, and Virginia Bruce, a weak showing from John Lund as the heroine's love interest undermines the appeal of the young couple Robinson tries to save from disaster.

Robinson stars as former traveling psychic John Triton, who unhappily discovers that his ability to see the future is real. After his visions drive oil heiress Jean Courtland (Gail Russell) to attempt suicide, Triton recounts his history with Jean's parents, Whitney (Jerome Cowan) and Jenny (Virginia Bruce), who were once partners in Triton's act. Jean's boyfriend, Elliott (John Lund), remains skeptical of Triton's story, but as the older man's predictions repeatedly come true everyone around Jean has to take the threats to her safety seriously.

Edward G. Robinson is the main draw here, and he delivers a compelling depiction of a man forever on the outside of humanity thanks to his unwanted ability. Triton can't control his visions, and most of the time he can't stop the future he sees from happening, either. He gives up the love of his life hoping to save her from the early death he foresees, but it doesn't work, and Triton spends the next two decades secretly watching his old friend Whitney Courtland raise the daughter who should have been Triton's child. When Whitney and then Jean face mortal danger, Triton rouses himself for a final attempt to change someone's fate. Robinson, adept at playing almost every kind of character, invests this one with tremendous pathos. Triton has the air of a martyr without making a fuss about it, his aging face lined with grief and resignation. He never seems crazed or deluded, even though the people around him mostly discount his claims until it's too late. The viewer, seeing all of the evidence in Triton's favor from the beginning, has no reason to doubt him, and we wait in suspense for the rest of the characters to figure out that Triton's powers are the real thing.

Most of the supporting cast is solid, with Gail Russell especially engaging as a young woman grappling with her own sense of doom. Her scenes with Robinson are tender and moving because Jean believes Triton and he desperately wants to save her, even though he isn't sure he can. Jerome Cowan and Virginia Bruce both have some good moments in the backstory section, while William Demarest and John Alexander stand out among the skeptics in the third act. Unfortunately, there's no feeling of true devotion between Jean and Elliott because John Lund is so bland and unsympathetic as the latter. Because the audience and Jean both believe Triton, Elliott's persistent skepticism comes across as boorish, and his attempts to reassure Jean seem more like paternalistic chauvinism at best. Triton risks everything to save Jean, and his concern for her feels deeply genuine, but Elliott doesn't seem to feel much of anything. It's a shame Triton can't save Jean from marrying a wooden bore, but his psychic powers don't extend to bad casting decisions.

For more from director John Farrow, see Where Danger Lives (1950), His Kind of Woman (1951), and Hondo (1953). Edward G. Robinson rose to fame for his gangsters in movies like Little Caesar (1931), but his other noir pictures include Double Indemnity (1944), The Woman in the Window (1944), Scarlet Street (1945), and The Stranger (1946),as well as the iconic Key Largo (1948). Catch Gail Russell facing more supernatural peril in The Uninvited (1944) or try Angel and the Badman (1947) or Moonrise (1948). If you enjoy movies based on the work of Cornell Woolrich, look for The Leopard Man (1943), Phantom Lady (1944), Black Angel (1946), and The Window (1949).

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Classic Films in Focus: THE LEOPARD MAN (1943)

The Leopard Man (1943) provides another example of the collaborative efforts of RKO producer Val Lewton and director Jacques Tourneur, a pair best known for their work on the iconic horror classic, Cat People (1942). Although this movie returns us to feline territory, the story takes a more practical view of horror, with suggestions of the supernatural limited to the dark fate predicted by a fortune teller's cards. The Leopard Man is strictly a low-budget production, with few familiar stars in sight, but like most of Lewton's pictures it shows what a talented filmmaker can do with a lot of imagination and a very small amount of cash. It's not the first Lewton film a newcomer should see - that would be Cat People or I Walked with a Zombie (1943), also directed by Tourneur - but it's a worthwhile addition to the horror canon, and at only 66 minutes long it doesn't take much time to experience.

Dennis O'Keefe stars as Jerry, the manager and boyfriend of an attractive singer named Kiki (Jean Brooks). Jerry and Kiki are playing a gig in New Mexico when he decides to generate publicity by renting a showman's leopard for Kiki to use as a prop, but the leopard promptly escapes. Soon young women are turning up dead all over town; the leopard is the obvious suspect, but Jerry realizes that something more sinister might be taking place.

Suspense and atmosphere are the key elements in this picture, which depends on the creation of a certain mood much more than it relies on the actual leopard or the killer who impersonates him. We see very little of either predator during the movie's most riveting scenes, when the young women meet their violent ends. The most famous is the first death scene, in which a frightened girl finds herself locked out of her house as something terrible closes in. Her skeptical mother, safely on the inside, mocks her until the girl's screams become too horrific to ignore. By then it is too late, and we see the dark pool of the girl's blood ooze beneath the door. The next girl meets an equally gory death in a walled cemetery, while a third, more brazen than her fellow victims, tries to laugh at the death card the fortune teller repeatedly draws for her. These moments make the most effective use of pacing, shadow, and sound, especially as Clo-Clo (Margo), the third young woman, plays a constant rhythm on her castanets wherever she goes.

Other Lewton films rely on the star power of actors like Simone Simon, Boris Karloff, Frances Dee, or Anna Lee, but The Leopard Man lacks a really fascinating central character. Dennis O'Keefe and Jean Brooks have no air of mystery about them; they're just two all-American folks hoping to assuage their guilt by finding the leopard and the opportunistic killer. The first two victims are lovely but not especially interesting girls, and they have too little screen time for us to become really invested in them. More compelling are Clo-Clo and her fortune teller friend, Maria, played by the very capable Isabel Jewell; they get quite a bit of development, and Clo-Clo's feisty, sweet and salty personality makes her the most engaging female character in the movie. While it would spoil the movie's ending to say too much about the killer, this is definitely not a story that makes a protagonist out of the heavy, which might be a bit of a letdown given the title and the implied possibilities for psychological aberration.

The story of The Leopard Man is adapted from Cornell Woolrich's novel, Black Alibi; film noir fans will also know Woolrich as the writer behind Phantom Lady (1944), Black Angel (1946), and Rear Window (1954). For more Lewton horror, try Curse of the Cat People (1944), The Body Snatcher (1945), and Bedlam (1946). Jacques Tourneur is best remembered today as the director of Out of the Past (1947), but he also made The Flame and the Arrow (1950), Night of the Demon (1957), and The Comedy of Terrors (1963). You'll find Dennis O'Keefe in Brewster's Millions (1945), T-Men (1947), and Raw Deal (1948). Jean Brooks and Isabel Jewell also star in Lewton's 1943 film, The Seventh Victim. See more of the charismatic Margo in Lost Horizon (1937) and Viva Zapata! (1952).

The Leopard Man is currently available for streaming on Warner Archive Instant.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Classic Films in Focus: BLACK ANGEL (1946)

Based on a novel by Cornell Woolrich, Black Angel (1946) is a minor film noir from the classic period that merits attention more for its cast than its convoluted plot. Woolrich's work produced some interesting source material for movies, notably The Leopard Man (1943), Rear Window (1954), and The Bride Wore Black (1968), and that list alone ought to say something about the kind of story Black Angel has to tell. It's certainly no walk in the park, but its twists and turns never quite deliver, perhaps because the ending is so obvious that the suspense can't really build effectively. The dedicated classic film fan may well find the movie worth watching, however, because of the performances of noir regulars Dan Duryea and Peter Lorre.

The heroine of the picture is Catherine Bennett (June Vincent), whose husband is convicted of killing Mavis Marlowe (Constance Dowling), the former wife of boozy musician Martin Blair (Dan Duryea). Cathy asks Martin to help prove her husband's innocence, and their joint investigation leads them to Marko (Peter Lorre), an oily nightclub owner who obviously has something to hide. Posing as a musical act, Martin and Cathy go undercover at the club, but their dangerous gamble might not be enough to save Kirk Bennett (John Phillips), especially if Marko turns out to be the wrong man.

It would be inconsiderate to spoil the "shock" ending, but the movie telegraphs it so insistently that surely nobody is really going to be surprised. That's one weakness in the film, but another is June Vincent's Cathy, so resolutely a "good girl" type that she's determined to save the life of a man who was not only cheating on her but submitting to blackmail to keep her from finding out about it. The picture opens with the murder of the femme fatale character, but even in her few minutes on the screen Mavis Marlowe manages to be a lot more interesting than Cathy Bennett. It might be that the story leaves little room for her character to develop, but it might also be June Vincent's performance that leaves something to be desired. Either way, she can't really carry the picture, and we're left scratching our heads about her dogged devotion to her faithless spouse.

Dan Duryea and Peter Lorre, on the other hand, are great fun to watch. Duryea makes a memorable heavy in pictures like Ball of Fire (1941) and Scarlet Street (1945), but here he's more sympathetic, still a hard luck case but a nice enough guy as long as he stays on the wagon. Lorre gets to be the tough guy for a change, and he pulls it off beautifully, proving his own versatility in character roles. Of course, his most memorable work is with extreme characters, like the serial killer in M (1931) or Joel Cairo in The Maltese Falcon (1941), but here he shows that he can play a more subtle line, as well. Between the two of them they almost make up for the lackluster heroine's plot.

For more classic noir with Dan Duryea, be sure to see Scarlet Street (1945). You'll find Peter Lorre in dozens of great pictures, but M (1931) made him a star, while his performance in Casablanca (1942) helped ensure his enduring celebrity. For more from director Roy William Neill, try Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943) or any of the Sherlock Holmes pictures starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce.

An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.