Classic Films in Focus: BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT (1956)

Fritz Lang directed Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (1956) quite late in his career, almost forty years after he got his start making silent films in Germany, but this courtroom noir has a lot in common with the director’s earlier pictures, especially in terms of suspense. Like M (1931), Fury (1936), and The Woman in the Window (1944), Beyond a Reasonable Doubt plays with our expectations about criminals and crime, making the assurance of its title a striking counterpoint to our own evolving uncertainty as the narrative unfolds. Legal experts might find numerous bones to pick with its representation of the judicial process, but film noir fans who like their thrillers pitch black will enjoy this twisted thrill ride through the dark, which also offers a particularly effective performance from Dana Andrews as its leading man.

Andrews plays up-and-coming novelist Tom Garrett, who wants to postpone his wedding to the stylish Susan (Joan Fontaine) so that he can prove his talent by finishing his second book. Susan’s father, Austin Spencer (Sidney Blackmer), happens to be Tom’s former boss in the newspaper business, and he intrigues Tom with a scheme to protest the death penalty by framing an innocent man for murder. Assured by Austin that he will be exonerated before an execution can take place, Tom agrees to be the guinea pig and incriminate himself in the murder of a burlesque dancer, but he eventually comes much closer to the electric chair than he expected.

The story might or might not work as a commentary on the death penalty, given how things turn out, but it certainly succeeds at casting doubt on the whole process by which criminal cases are tried. The district attorney, Roy Thompson (Philip Bourneuf), takes a hard line on crime mainly because he aspires to become governor, not because he has any particular devotion to justice. Tom is indicted, then tried and found guilty solely on the basis of circumstantial evidence; the idea that a jury might be persuaded to execute a man on such flimsy evidence proves their susceptibility to the ambitious attorney’s slick courtroom tactics. Our own doubts increase as we see Austin and Tom planting and documenting their clues; might Austin have an ulterior motive in playing this dangerous game? Might Tom?

If the men come off as untrustworthy, the women at least can be relied on for their honesty, even when they themselves are being deceived. Joan Fontaine plays Susan as a smart, sensible woman accustomed to being treated as an equal, so we know that no good can come of Austin and Tom’s decision to keep their whole plan a secret from her. With her elegant carriage and carefully selected clothes, Susan is the opposite of the brassy, low-brow Dolly Moore (Barbara Nichols), a stripper who becomes the key witness in Tom’s trial, but Susan is also a foil to the unseen Patty Gray, the murdered girl whom Tom is accused of strangling. Patty might be the closest this movie comes to a femme fatale, but because she is already dead her influence on the other characters and the plot remains ghostly, uncertain, a matter of secondhand gossip and half-remembered history. She’s a blue-collar Rebecca, haunting the narrative until the truth comes out in the shocking final scene.

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt was Fritz Lang’s last American picture; for more of his Hollywood films, try Scarlet Street (1945), House by the River (1950), and The Big Heat (1953). Look for Dana Andrews in The Ox-Bow Incident (1943), Laura (1944), and The Best Years of Our Lives (1946). Joan Fontaine won an Oscar for Best Actress for her performance in Alfred Hitchcock’s Suspicion (1941), but she is also remembered today as the star of Rebecca (1940), The Constant Nymph (1943), and Jane Eyre (1943). Horror fans will recognize Sidney Blackmer from Rosemary’s Baby (1968); his earlier work includes Little Caesar (1931), Heidi (1937), and a number of appearances as President Theodore Roosevelt in films like In Old Oklahoma (1943).

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt is currently available for streaming on Warner Archive Instant.

Classic Films in Focus: FURY (1936)

Fury (1936) marks director Fritz Lang's debut as a Hollywood filmmaker, although by the time he arrived in the United States he had already made important films like Metropolis (1927), M (1931), and The Testament of Dr. Mabuse (1933). Despite its key position as a transitional work for the director, Fury is not as widely known today as some of Lang's other American pictures, the most popular being his 1953 noir classic, The Big Heat, but Fury is nonetheless an excellent film, filled with gripping performances and all of the director's favorite themes.

Spencer Tracy stars as the ill-fated Joe Wilson, whose long-awaited union with his girl, Katherine (Sylvia Sidney), sets him off on a road trip into tragedy. Mistaken for a kidnapper and tried by local gossip, Joe becomes the victim of a violent mob so intent on murdering him that they burn down their own jail with Joe locked inside. Joe secretly survives the ordeal, but his faith in human decency is shattered, and  he now cares only about getting revenge on the people who tried to kill him. When the court attempts to try the leaders of the mob, the townsfolk close ranks, but Joe manipulates his two brothers and Katherine to affect the outcome of the trial.

For Tracy, the role of Joe bears some similarities to his later performance in Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1941), where we also see him play two sides of a single personality. The original Joe is a straight arrow, a quintessential good guy who looks after his brothers and takes in a little dog out of sympathy for a helpless fellow creature. The post-fire Joe is a shadow consumed with rage, ready to watch nearly two dozen people die in order to satisfy his need for retribution. Tracy, always a terrific actor, makes both sides of Joe credible, although his craggy features are most effective in the later scenes, when we see him with burning eyes and a grim, pitiless expression. Sidney, with her delicate features and huge, startled eyes, makes a perfect foil to this later version of Joe, even as Lang reveals her to be smart enough to put two and two together, no matter how emotionally wrecked she is in the wake of seeing her beloved burned alive.

Like M, The Woman in the Window (1944), and Scarlet Street (1945), Fury reveals Lang's interest in the psychological, particularly various manifestations of guilt. The lynch mob leaders mostly bury their guilt, except for one memorable courtroom outburst, but Lang relishes the opportunity to confront them with themselves when the district attorney uses film footage of the mob to show what each member did that night. Joe also has to grapple with guilt as it becomes apparent that he will get the vengeance he desires in spades. Can he live with himself if the townspeople die?

In addition to Tracy and Sidney, look for Walter Brennan, Frank Albertson, Bruce Cabot, and Walter Abel among the cast. The biggest star in the whole movie, though, might be Terry, the little dog who plays Rainbow. You know her better as Toto in The Wizard of Oz (1939). For more of Spencer Tracy's best work from the late 1930s, see Libeled Lady (1936), Captains Courageous (1937), and Boys Town (1938). Sylvia Sidney is best remembered today for her role in Hitchcock's Sabotage (1936), but she had a long career that included many later television roles.

Classic Films in Focus: THE BIG HEAT (1953)

Many noir devotees rank Fritz Lang's The Big Heat (1953) very highly, and it certainly does have a great noir look and many memorable scenes, but I find that I much prefer some of Lang's other genre outings, like The Woman in the Window (1944) and Scarlet Street (1945), to this more celebrated 1953 picture. My reluctance to embrace the movie has a great deal to do with gender; this is the opposite of a women's noir film, set in a deeply misogynistic world where matrons and molls are equally doomed. That's not to say that the movie is not worth watching, since it features great performances from Lee Marvin and Gloria Grahame, but I don't think The Big Heat is a film that I will want to revisit any time soon.

Glenn Ford stars as police sergeant Dave Bannion, whose investigation of a fellow cop's suicide uncovers a ring of corruption and crime that goes all the way to the top brass in town. His interview with a barfly (Dorothy Green) leads to the girl's murder, but Bannion refuses to be bullied out of his pursuit, even after his own wife (Jocelyn Brando) is murdered in a car bombing meant to kill him. The local crime lord, Mike Lagana (Alexander Scourby), sends his thugs after Bannion, chief among them Vince Stone (Lee Marvin), but Stone's girlfriend, Debby (Gloria Grahame), gums up the works by taking a shine to Bannion and then aiding him in his investigation after an irate Vince disfigures her with a pot of boiling coffee. The body count rises as Bannion closes in on the truth, but the detective himself edges ever closer to becoming like those he hates as his anger and need for vengeance drive him forward.

The story reflects a lot of noir conventions, with its good cops and bad cops, its depictions of women, and its bloodthirstiness, but Glenn Ford's Bannion is never very compelling as the protagonist. He's too much of a man's man, stiff upper lip and all that, and he mostly emotes stony anger that breaks out into barely suppressed rage. He is presented to us as a man who does not cross the final line that separates him from the bad guys, but we get the sense that really he crossed it a long time ago, and only circumstances hold him back now. In other words, for a good guy he's too bad, and for a bad guy he's too good, and he either needs to soften up to be a real hero or toughen up and become a proper piece of work. His wife, Katie, played by Marlon Brando's older sister, ought to provide that softening, but the film doesn't show us enough there, especially in the way of her death scene, and Bannion seems tense around her and their daughter rather than domestic.

The bad guys have fewer issues with their identities, and they end up being the stronger and more interesting characters. Lee Marvin is just despicable as the sadistic Vince Stone, and that's exactly what he is supposed to be. Gloria Grahame's Debby enjoys playing with fire by hanging around Vince and taunting him; she wants to know how far she can go before he does something about it, and she gets her answer in a pot of hot coffee flung into her face. The dead police officer's wife, played by Jeanette Nolan, is another nasty prize; Debby claims that they are "sisters under the mink," both of them rotten women who have done horrible things for all the wrong reasons. All of these roles are played to the hilt by their performers, and they work so well that they wrest our attention away from our ostensible hero.

One thing that really strikes me about The Big Heat is the number of female characters in the movie. We have Debby the bitter mob girl, Katie the sweet wife, Lucy the earnest barfly, and Bertha the conniving widow. All of them end up dead. The film presents a lot of ugly ideas about women as disposable characters. Katie dies for being married to Bannion, Lucy dies for trying to do the right thing, Debby dies because she is sexually and morally tainted, and Bertha dies because that allows the hidden information to come out and clear the air. Another young woman, merely in the wrong place at the wrong time, is attacked by Vince with a lit cigarette; it seems that he has a penchant for torturing women by burning them. Perhaps the cigarette burns and the flaming death car give another meaning to the film's title. The deaths of all of the major women characters suggest that the world has no place for any of them, rather like some of Shakespeare's tragedies, where new world orders seem to be formed entirely of the surviving males. I don't know that male film critics notice these kinds of things, but for me, the film's treatment of its women constitutes a major concern, especially because the deaths are so brutal and absolute. There's a sadism at work here beyond that of Vince Stone, one that treats all female characters as mere sacrifices to men's plots, both fictional and cinematic.

Don't start an exploration of noir with The Big Heat unless you really like your films pitch black. Glenn Ford has more interesting roles in Gilda (1946) and 3:10 to Yuma (1957). Be sure to see more of Gloria Grahame in It's a Wonderful Life (1946), In a Lonely Place (1950), and The Greatest Show on Earth (1952). Lee Marvin also has memorable roles in Bad Day at Black Rock (1955), The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962), and The Professionals (1966), although I admit to adoring his awful singing in Paint Your Wagon (1969). Fritz Lang's earlier work includes masterpieces like Metropolis (1927) and M (1931); he also directed the interesting Gothic mystery, House by the River (1950).

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