Classic Films in Focus: THE NARROW MARGIN (1952)

It might not be as famous as the noir classics that usually make the top ten lists, but The Narrow Margin (1952) is definitely a picture that every noir fan ought to get around to, and the sooner the better. Richard Fleischer’s tight, smart thriller packs a cross-country train trip with unexpected twists, making great use of the confined spaces and close quarters that its setting entails. This RKO production also features knockout performances, particularly from Charles McGraw and Marie Windsor, with Jacqueline White providing a refined contrast to Windsor’s dangerous dame. Those who enjoy train movies will love this film’s claustrophobic, high-speed atmosphere, and noir devotees will find enough pointed lines and sudden reversals to satisfy even the most devious imagination.

Charles McGraw stars as Walter Brown, a tough police detective saddled with the job of transporting a mobster’s widow across country so that she can testify in court. Mrs. Neal (Marie Windsor) turns out to be exactly the kind of cheap, selfish tramp Brown expects, but he and his partner, Forbes (Don Beddoe), have to protect her at any cost. Of course the mob wants her silenced, and their attempts to get to the witness only intensify once they board a train from Chicago to Los Angeles. Brown’s efforts to keep Mrs. Neal alive become even more complicated when he meets the attractive Ann Sinclair (Jacqueline White) and accidentally leads the killers to think that she is their target.

The Narrow Margin plays with our expectations and those of its own characters, especially Brown. The jaded cop is sure that he knows all about Mrs. Neal before he even meets her. “What kind of dame would marry a hood?” he asks, and Marie Windsor’s flashy viper matches his preconceived image perfectly. As a result, he doesn’t feel obligated to be nice to her; he repeatedly tells her to shut up and handles her like a parcel of dirty laundry. He gets as good as he gives, too. “You make me sick to my stomach,” he tells her. “Well,” she snaps back, “use your own sink.” Brown only softens when he meets Ann, a classy, polite blonde who is Mrs. Neal’s opposite in every way. The trouble is, Brown knows a lot less than he thinks about what is really going on, and his actions put both women in danger.

The train setting ratchets up the tension because the killers and their targets come into such close contact; nobody can hide except in plain sight. Paul Maxey is an especially imposing presence in this environment; his character, Sam Jennings, uses his girth as an effective weapon in the train’s cramped corridors. “Nobody loves a fat man,” he jokes, but he knows exactly how to throw his weight around to achieve his aim. Gordon Gebert’s hyper Tommy Sinclair also has an exaggerated effect in the tight spaces; his boyish noise draws unwanted attention to Brown every time the two meet. Brown struggles to keep a low profile in spite of these and other human obstacles to his mission, but he has to play a weirdly blatant cat and mouse game with the killers. His only advantage is that the assassins don’t know what Mrs. Neal looks like, but it’s just a matter of time before hunters and prey occupy the same fatal space.

Richard Fleischer also directed 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954), Fantastic Voyage (1966), and Doctor Dolittle (1967), as well as the cult sci-fi classic, Soylent Green (1973). Look for Charles McGraw in The Killers (1946), T-Men (1947), and The Man in the Net (1959). Marie Windsor gives another fabulously poisonous performance in The Killing (1956). The Narrow Margin was Jacqueline White’s final film before her retirement from Hollywood, but you’ll also find her in Crossfire (1947). Child actor Gordon Gebert turns up in Holiday Affair (1949), The Flame and the Arrow (1950), and The House on Telegraph Hill (1951).

Classic Films in Focus: THE FLAME AND THE ARROW (1950)

All of the classic swashbuckling stars had good looks and charm, but few, if any, could rival Burt Lancaster for sheer physical prowess. Lancaster earned his Oscar nominations and Best Actor win for dramas, but early in his career he put his background as a circus acrobat to good use in a handful of high adventures, including the 1950 Technicolor spectacle, The Flame and the Arrow. Directed by Jacques Tourneur and costarring Virginia Mayo, as well as Lancaster’s childhood friend Nick Cravat, this old school swashbuckler takes many of its cues from The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938). The main attraction, however, is the acrobatic skill of Lancaster and Cravat, who perform a dizzying array of jumps, stunts, and circus tricks as they attempt to save medieval Lombardy from its Hessian overlords.

Lancaster plays the free spirited Dardo, who has been left to raise his son, Rudi (Gordon Gebert), by himself after the defection of his wife, Francesca (Lynn Baggett). When his wife returns to Lombardy with her Hessian lover, Count Ulrich (Frank Allenby), Dardo gets himself and his friends into trouble by showing his contempt for the powerful lord, who seizes Rudi in retaliation. Dardo then leads his men in an effort to overthrow the Hessian oppressors and reclaim his kidnapped son, but his actions bring him unexpected company in the form of Ulrich’s lovely niece, Anne (Virginia Mayo).

Tall and powerfully built, Lancaster certainly looks good in tights, and he performs acrobatic feats almost casually, making them seem deceptively easy. The movie benefits from Lancaster’s skill in action scenes that would normally have to hide a stunt double’s face, and the camera stays close to assure us that Lancaster is, indeed, the heroic figure executing those jumps and swings. Nick Cravat makes a perfect foil to his friend and partner; short, funny, and mute because of his heavy New York accent, he plays a sort of swashbuckling Harpo Marx to Lancaster’s Lombard Robin. The two really get to show off their skills in the climax, when the Lombard rebels infiltrate the castle disguised as members of a traveling circus.

The supporting cast boasts fewer famous faces than the 1938 Robin Hood film, although its characters tend to fill the same functions. Frank Allenby is credibly snide as the Hessian count known as “the Hawk,” and Robert Douglas oozes moral ambivalence as the self-interested Marchese. Child actor Gordon Gebert has a few good scenes as Rudi, although a little of him goes a long way, while Lynn Baggett’s role as faithless Francesca could be more robust. Norman Lloyd proves something of a scene stealer as the wry Apollo, a minor character who obviously stands in for Sherwood’s Alan-a-Dale. Dardo’s Maid Marian is charmingly played by Virginia Mayo, who brings plenty of energy and a pair of well-displayed legs to her role as Anne of Hesse. While she appears in several stunning gowns requisite for this kind of historical pageant, Mayo looks best in the boyish costumes she adopts when riding or being held prisoner in the forest. Her experience as a bad girl in films like White Heat (1949) also gives her an edge in playing the scenes where she attempts to manipulate the Marchese and Dardo; we’re not always sure which side she’s really on, and that makes her character more interesting.

The Flame and the Arrow earned two Oscar nominations, one for Best Color Cinematography and one for Max Steiner’s score. Lancaster won his only Oscar of four Best Actor nominations for Elmer Gantry (1960). See more of Lancaster and Cravat’s acrobatics in The Crimson Pirate (1952), but don’t miss Lancaster in Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957), Sweet Smell of Success (1957), and The Professionals (1966). Virginia Mayo also stars in The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), and you'll find Gordon Gebert in Holiday Affair (1949) and The House on Telegraph Hill (1951). For more from director Jacques Tourneur, see Cat People (1942), Out of the Past (1947), and Night of the Demon (1957). For even more swashbuckling action, try Captain Blood (1935), The Mark of Zorro (1940), and The Three Musketeers (1948).

The Flame and the Arrow is currently available for streaming on Warner Archive Instant.