Classic Films in Focus: MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS (1945)

Director Joseph H. Lewis is best remembered today for his influential noir classic, Gun Crazy (1950), but he also brings great tension to My Name is Julia Ross (1945), an atmospheric thriller from Columbia Pictures that stars Nina Foch as the titular heroine. Despite its modern day setting, Julia's story revels in Gothic trappings, with an imprisoned and imperiled protagonist who endures extreme gaslighting at the hands of her kidnappers. Fans of Gaslight (either the 1940 or the 1944 version) and more traditional Gothic fare will find a lot to appreciate in this tight, well-acted production, including especially sinister performances from Dame May Whitty and a barely restrained George Macready.

Foch plays the penniless but determined Julia Ross, who lands a seemingly perfect job as the live-in secretary of wealthy Mrs. Hughes (May Whitty). Julia is too relieved to worry at questions about her being absolutely without friends or family, but she realizes the awful truth when she awakens from a drugged slumber to find herself transported to Cornwall and declared to be the mentally ill wife of Ralph Hughes (George Macready). Luckily, Julia's aspiring love interest, Dennis (Roland Varno), is searching for her while Julia repeatedly tries to escape before Ralph and his mother can carry out their nefarious plans.

The success of the whole picture depends on its heroine, and Nina Foch makes Julia active and appealing in spite of her damsel in distress situation. Foch's long career included a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination for her role in Executive Suite (1954), but she never became a top star, which seems a shame considering her energetic performance here. Foch is beautiful in a wide-eyed but spirited way, definitely not the kind of girl to surrender meekly to villainous schemes, no matter how many times the Hughes family tries to convince Julia that she's Marion Hughes. Our heroine might be naive enough to jump at the sudden job offer, but she's never passive or resigned to her fate. Ironically, Julia's constant efforts to escape and tell someone about her situation only support the Hughes' claim that she's insane, but Julia manages to outsmart them enough to get a letter out to Dennis. Part of the fun of the movie lies in waiting to see what Julia will try next, whether she's hiding in cars, looking for secret passages, or pretending that she really believes she might be Marion Hughes.

Most of the other important characters present threats to Julia's well-being, and each is interesting in his or her own fashion. Julia's chief antagonist is the unflappable Mrs. Hughes, played with sly menace by Dame May Whitty. Whitty is a fun choice for the role because she doesn't seem like a villain even when she's blatantly plotting Julia's demise. The mother provides a stark contrast to the psychopath son, Ralph, who has already murdered the original Marion and clearly yearns to kill again. Only Mrs. Hughes can control him, and one wonders how long that can last, given the number of sharp objects she has to confiscate from Ralph over the course of the picture. The criminal pair have ample assistance from their most trusted servants, especially Sparkes (Anita Bolster), who poses as the employment agent and ensures that the newer servants spread gossip about "Marion Hughes" being insane. She's a great example of the sinister housekeeper so quintessential in the Gothic genre, and Bolster has a perfect face for the role.

My only real complaint about My Name is Julia Ross relates to the abrupt and overly tidy ending, which turns a blind eye to the extremity of Julia's ordeal. Compare that with the endings of Gaslight or Notorious (1946), in which the heroines are clearly going to need to work through some heavy post-traumatic stress. For more of the lovely Nina Foch, see The Return of the Vampire (1943), in which Roland Varno also plays her love interest, An American in Paris (1951), or Illegal (1955). She also appears in both The Ten Commandments (1956) and Spartacus (1960). Dame May Whitty earned Best Supporting Actress Oscar nominations for Night Must Fall (1937) and Mrs. Miniver (1942), but she has memorable roles in The Lady Vanishes (1938), Suspicion (1941), and Gaslight (1944). Don't miss George Macready in Gilda (1946), which is probably his most important film.

Big Stars on the Small Screen: THE MUPPET SHOW

This post is part of the CMBA Spring Blogathon - Big Stars on the Small Screen: In Support of National Classic Movie Day. Check out all of the participating blogs and posts by visiting the Classic Movie Blog Association's post about the blogathon!

Big Stars on the Small Screen: Classic Movie Guest Stars on The Muppet Show

Guest stars on the original Muppet Show television series spanned the full range of celebrity types in the public eye during the late 1970s, from singers and actors to puppeteers, dancers, and musicians. For many children watching the episodes, The Muppet Show provided a kid-friendly introduction to entertainers they had never encountered before, including many classic movie stars entering the later decades of their careers. If you were four years old in 1976, as I was that year when the first season of The Muppet Show aired, you might not know who most of the Season 1 guest stars were, but a Muppet curated introduction to Vincent Price might prove a watershed moment in your young life. For five seasons, The Muppet Show entertained adults and children alike with its quirky mix of old and new, high and low, classy and wacky, all mingled together to form the joyful chaos so quintessential to the Muppet aesthetic. Here's a look at some of the classic movie stars featured in each season of the series, with highlights on some of my personal favorites.

 

Season One

The 24 episodes of Season One offer a wide range of guest stars, including Joel Grey, Ruth Buzzi, Florence Henderson, Paul Williams, Sandy Duncan, and Phyllis Diller, and of course many stars who were fairly new in 1976 are considered "classics" today. Among the guest stars who hail from the Golden Age of Hollywood are Rita Moreno, Lena Horne, Peter Ustinov, Vincent Price, and Ethel Merman. Of the group, both the Rita Moreno and Vincent Price episodes are standouts, with both stars fully committed to interacting with their puppet hosts.

For me, the Vincent Price episode is a special favorite. The campy horror maestro is totally at home with his weird monster companions, including the delightful Uncle Deadly, who appears as Price's "beautiful assistant" in one horror movie parody sketch. Price also gets to tout his reputation as a gourmet and art lover, although of course the sketches veer into vampirism, cannibalism, and other gruesome but silly twists. It's a thoroughly essential episode for any fan of the Muppets, Price, or classic horror in general.

Season Two 

Classic movie stars in the second season include many performers who were also famous for their radio and television work, like Don Knotts, Milton Berle, George Burns, and Bob Hope, but you'll also find stars like Julie Andrews and Peter Sellers in the mix ("modern" guest stars for this season include Rich Little, Madeline Kahn, Elton John, and John Cleese). Both the Julie Andrews and Peter Sellers episodes are noteworthy in their own, separate ways, although the Sellers episode suffers some for Sellers' outdated and stereotyped performance of "A Gypsy's Violin."

I can't really choose between the Peter Sellers and Julie Andrews episodes because they're both great. While the first sketch with Sellers is culturally problematic, the Queen Victoria sketch is a brilliant bit of meta comedy that is one of my all-time favorite Muppet Show moments, and the segment with Sellers as a sadistic German masseur who mangles Link Hogthrob is another demented gem. The Sellers episode is also notable for featuring Kermit's performance of "Bein' Green," which would become a signature song for the character. The Julie Andrews episode is sweeter in tone, with Andrews performing "The Lonely Goatherd" from The Sound of Music (1965) for her first number. Andrews is very natural and funny with her puppet costars throughout the episode, and for added humor you can watch Carol Burnett be jealous of Andrews' popularity on the show in Burnett's Season 5 appearance.

 

Season Three

The most memorable episode of Season 3, for me, at least, is the one featuring Alice Cooper, who might as well be a Muppet given how well he fits in with the monsters of the group. The Faust angle of the episode's plot also makes it a hit. Among the newer stars featured, the episodes guest starring Gilda Radner and Roger Miller also stand out. Classic movie stars appearing in the third season include Jean Stapleton, Raquel Welch, Harry Belafonte, Danny Kaye, and Roy Rogers and Dale Evans (who appear together, naturally). 

While the Danny Kaye episode is cute, the must-see classic star of the season is definitely Harry Belafonte, who collaborated closely with the show's creative team to make a truly special episode. "Day-O" is a Belafonte hit that adult viewers would have recognized, but the real highlight is Belafonte's performance of "Turn the World Around," a song that would prove so meaningful to Muppets creator Jim Henson that Belafonte performed it at Henson's New York memorial service in 1990. While this episode of The Muppet Show focuses on Harry Belafonte's skill as a singer, his acting ability serves him well in his interactions with the puppets. I couldn't help but think of this episode and the song, "Turn the World Around," when Belafonte died on April 25, 2023.

Season Four

The fourth season includes fewer guests who really qualify as "classic movie stars" in the strictest sense, and overall there are a lot of popular singers represented, such as John Denver, Arlo Guthrie, Crystal Gayle, Andy Williams, and Diana Ross. The best episode of the season is the one featuring the stars of Star Wars, with Mark Hamill absolutely game for the comedy shenanigans and accompanied by C-3PO (Anthony Daniels), R2-D2, and Chewbacca (Peter Mayhew). The most "classic" of the stars included in this season are Liza Minnelli and Carol Channing, and both of their episodes are worth watching.

If you're interested in episodes where The Muppet Show varied its usual format (as it did several times during its five season run), the Liza Minnelli episode is the one to watch. The usual songs and comedy skits are organized as part of a murder mystery with Kermit as the detective and Minnelli as his client. The episode earned an Emmy for Outstanding Directing, and the Mystery Writers of America honored it with a Raven Award, as well. If you want to see how a human Muppet interacts with actual Muppets, see the episode with Carol Channing, who really fits in perfectly and performs some delightfully nutty numbers.

 

Season Five

The final season of The Muppet Show ran from the fall of 1980 to the spring of 1981, and it followed the fourth season in leaning toward newer celebrity guests. Some of the best include Brooke Shields (in an Alice in Wonderland themed episode), Carol Burnett, Johnny Cash, Marty Feldman, Linda Ronstadt, and Paul Simon. The classic movie stars featured in this season are, however, truly classic, with Gene Kelly, James Coburn, and Tony Randall all making appearances. As great a star as Kelly was, he looks uncomfortable with the puppets, and it's not a great performance (his episode aired around the same time as his appearance in the 1980 film, Xanadu). Tony Randall is having more fun, but the wackiest of the lot turns out to be James Coburn.

I'll admit that, having seen the entire series multiple times and co-edited two books about Jim Henson, I can't really remember a lot about the Tony Randall episode, which is why I'm giving the nod to James Coburn as the best classic star guest for this season. The finale, which involves a chaotic tribute to Japan that turns into a square dance with invading cowboys, has some of the same cultural sensitivity issues as the Peter Sellers episode, but James Coburn going for broke with a bunch of Muppets is just too wacky to resist. The sketches poke great fun at Coburn's tough guy reputation, especially in the salute to the Roaring 20s segment. Coburn also has a fun cameo as the owner of the El Sleezo Cafe in The Muppet Movie (1979), if you want another bit of Coburn-Muppet collaboration.

If you're interested in reading more of my posts about the Muppets, check out these links:

Classic Movie Stars on THE MUPPET SHOW

The Lovers, the Dreamers, and Me: Reflections on The Muppets

From Phantom to Phenom: The Evolution of Uncle Deadly

Christmas Movie Blogathon: THE MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL (1992) 

Making News with The Muppets

 

 

 

An Ode to Film Noir

Where will you find the asphalt jungle?
In a lonely place,
Where danger lives -
There they drive by night,
gun crazy,
Lured by brute force
and the sweet smell of success.

Between night and the city,
Somewhere past Sunset Blvd.
You'll find the lady from Shanghai.
"Kiss me deadly," she moans.
Suddenly, in the moonrise,
You see her fallen angel face
And know that it's too late for tears.
"Besides," she says, "the damned don't cry."

What is her name, that phantom lady?
Is it Gilda, Laura, Mildred Pierce?
Out of the past she comes,
From the place where the sidewalk ends.
She's a bad blonde, a black angel,
Born to kill with a touch of evil.
She leaves you spellbound, possessed.
This woman is dangerous.

In the end it's the kiss of death,
the set-up,
You find yourself in the dark corner,
Facing the long goodbye
on dangerous ground.
Farewell, my lovely.
By the time the big clock chimes
you'll be D.O.A.

You're past the turning point.
There's no way out.
You've been a witness to murder

in the naked city.
Sleep, my love, and
Kiss tomorrow goodbye.

Classic Films in Focus: COVER GIRL (1944)

Rita Hayworth gets top billing in director Charles Vidor’s musical romance, Cover Girl (1944), but most modern viewers will be drawn to the picture as an early Gene Kelly vehicle, and it’s true that the movie would be a lot less memorable without him. Although it’s not the most iconic picture made by either performer, Cover Girl offers a worthwhile look at Hayworth’s star power and Kelly’s rise to fame during the 1940s. Moreover, it's a fun musical outing that pairs two talented dancers with tremendous screen presence, and fans of Hayworth's earlier work with Fred Astaire will appreciate an opportunity to contrast her pairing with Kelly.

Hayworth plays Rusty Parker, a dancer who goes against the wishes of her sweetheart and boss, Danny McGuire (Kelly), by trying out for a magazine’s cover girl contest. She wins the competition and attracts the notice of the magazine’s publisher, John Coudair (Otto Kruger), who long ago fell in love with Rusty’s grandmother, Maribelle (also played by Hayworth). Coudair encourages Rusty to abandon Danny’s small-time Brooklyn show for the glamour of Broadway, especially when a wealthy show producer wants to make her his leading lady on stage and at the altar.

Although her singing is dubbed, Hayworth proves herself as a dancer in the numerous musical scenes. Her signature red tresses are also on full display, and she does look stunning, particularly in the turn-of-the-century costumes worn by Maribelle. By the time Cover Girl was made, Hayworth already had years of screen experience and had become an established leading lady; just before Cover Girl she had co-starred with Fred Astaire in You’ll Never Get Rich (1941) and You Were Never Lovelier (1942). Kelly, in contrast, was only two years into his Hollywood career, having started out on Broadway and then gotten his big break in For Me and My Gal (1942) opposite Judy Garland. Still, the highlights of the picture belong to Kelly, especially the delightfully surreal mirror dance sequence, in which Kelly dances with his own reflection after it escapes from a shop window. Choreographed by Kelly and Stanley Donen, the number would launch the collaborative screen efforts of the pair and lay the foundation for future efforts like On the Town (1949) and the glorious Singin’ in the Rain (1952).

Hayworth and Kelly make the movie worth watching, especially for the Hollywood musical devotee, but the dual plot involving Rusty’s grandmother is pretty thin, really just an excuse to give Hayworth more screen time in various costumes and hairstyles. Phil Silvers, who is much funnier with Kelly and Judy Garland in Summer Stock (1950), adds little to the story and distracts from the romance with his ill-timed gags, while the wonderful Eve Arden deserves more attention and development as Coudair’s wise-cracking, hard-working assistant, “Stonewall” Jackson. Modern viewers probably won’t appreciate the parade of real-life cover girls as much as the original audience, but they will find a lot to enjoy in Leslie Brooks’ performance as the bitchy, ambitious dancer Maurine, who constantly tries to upstage and sabotage Rusty’s career.

Cover Girl was nominated for five Oscars and won for Best Musical Score. Charles Vidor would go on to direct Hayworth in her signature role in Gilda (1946). For more of Rita Hayworth, see Blood and Sand (1941), The Lady from Shanghai (1947), and Pal Joey (1957). You’ll find Gene Kelly in The Three Musketeers (1948), An American in Paris (1951), and Brigadoon (1954). Catch Eve Arden in Mildred Pierce (1945) and Anatomy of a Murder (1959), and give Phil Silvers another look in It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World (1963) and A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966).

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

Classic Films in Focus: A STOLEN LIFE (1946)

Bette Davis stars as a pair of identical twins, one good and one bad, in A Stolen Life (1946), but the title grossly oversimplifies the circumstances that lead one twin to usurp the identity of the other. What we get is really a romantic drama, not a mystery or a thriller, but it's a very compelling story, nonetheless, with Davis giving her usual top-notch performance in both roles. Curtis Bernhardt directs the action with an excellent eye for the staging of this unusual set-up, which puts double the Davis onscreen a lot for a 1946 picture, and the effects still look good almost seventy years later. While Davis naturally dominates A Stolen Life with her dual role, Glenn Ford, Dane Clark, and Charlie Ruggles all make memorable appearances, and Max Steiner's music perfectly sets the tone for a story of love, loss, and unexpected second chances.

Davis first appears as Kate Bosworth, an aspiring artist who cleverly convinces a crusty old lighthouse keeper (Walter Brennan) to let her paint his portrait. The man she really wants to spend time with, however, is handsome Bill (Glenn Ford), who works at the lighthouse, as well. Despite Kate's best efforts, Bill eventually meets her more flirtatious twin sister, Pat, who pursues Bill mostly because she knows that Kate wants him. When Bill marries Pat, Kate is heartbroken, but a tragic accident gives her the chance to enjoy the life her sister had stolen.

It's hard not to imagine the dual casting of Davis as a gimmick of the Patty Duke and Hayley Mills variety, but it never feels that way onscreen. Davis plays both parts for their full melodramatic value, with introverted Kate and extroverted Pat as clearly defined, well-developed individuals. The split screen scenes give us ample opportunity to contrast the body language, tone, and expression of the two sisters. In one especially striking bit, we even see them touch, but the special effect is secondary to the moment's emotional import. Kate sincerely loves her sister, but Pat's selfish actions wound her deeply; at the wedding Kate deftly sidesteps the bouquet that Pat throws toward her, a quiet but pointed way of demonstrating her unhappiness with her thoughtless sibling. When Pat conveniently drowns, Kate assumes her identity because everyone around her believes that she is the other sister, and the deception proves a terrible strain, especially because Pat has made such a mess of the marriage that Bill wants to be divorced and done with it. Of course, Bill's unhappiness is his own fault for picking the wrong sister in the first place, but the movie suggests that Kate should have fought harder to keep man she loved. Kate has bought into Pat's selfishness and enabled it to a dangerous degree. "Must you always let that sister of yours get ahead of you?" asks her cousin, Freddie (Charlie Ruggles). Even after Pat's death Kate still lets her be the dominant sister, sacrificing "Kate" as the victim to make "Pat" the survivor. It takes Kate the whole narrative to step out from behind her sister's shadow and assert her own identity.

The men in the sisters' lives contribute to the story's effect, with particularly strong performances from Charlie Ruggles as Freddie and Dane Clark as the temperamental artist Karnock. Ruggles exudes charm and sympathy as the genial older cousin, rightly aligning himself with Kate from the very start. Clark proves a scene-stealer as the caustic, passionate Karnock, so much so that we wonder why Kate doesn't gravitate toward him and get on with her life after Bill drops her for Pat. Like Kate herself, Karnock lacks style but bursts with substance, and he's unfailingly true to himself and his art. Moreover, it's clear that he harbors some intense emotions regarding Kate, even if he's too rough to articulate them in a conventionally romantic fashion. His portrait of her, done after her supposed death, speaks volumes about his real feelings. He's quite the foil to leading man Glenn Ford, who has a less rewarding role since we understand that Bill is a dope who prefers style over substance. The early scenes, in which we watch him fall for Pat and cool toward Kate, are especially irritating. Ford has his best moments when Bill gets angry, especially after Kate takes Pat's place and learns the truth about her sister's marriage. In those scenes the hard edged intensity that Ford embodies gets some vent, and we realize that Pat was a fool to imagine a man like that would put up with her bedroom games. The ending is neat and conventional, perhaps too much so, but it's exactly what one expects from a 1940s romantic drama. Running off with Karnock is not, unfortunately, ever presented as a real option.

Be sure to note Clara Blandick and Bruce Bennett in small supporting roles. A Stolen Life earned an Oscar nomination for its special effects but lost to Blithe Spirit (1945). For more films directed by Curtis Bernhardt, see My Reputation (1946), Possessed (1947), and Miss Sadie Thompson (1953). Bette Davis also plays twins in Dead Ringer (1964); for other Davis pictures from the mid-1940s try Mr. Skeffington (1944) and Deception (1946). Look for Glenn Ford in Gilda (1946), The Big Heat (1953), and 3:10 to Yuma (1957). Dane Clark and Bette Davis both appear in Hollywood Canteen (1944), while Charlie Ruggles and Glenn Ford can be found in Gallant Journey (1946). For a double feature of dual roles, try pairing A Stolen Life with The Prisoner of Zenda (1937), That Night in Rio (1941), or The Dark Mirror (1946), in which Olivia de Havilland also plays identical twins.

Classic Films in Focus: GILDA (1946)

Gilda (1946) would prove both the high point of Rita Hayworth's career and the bane of her personal life, since it created an enduring image of the actress as sex symbol, temptress, and femme fatale. Hayworth would later lament, "Every man I knew went to bed with Gilda... and woke up with me." Even in her own lifetime, the fictional character outshone the person, who had started out as a dancer named Margarita Cansino. Hayworth certainly provides the fuel that sets Charles Vidor's noir film on fire; she's impossibly alluring from the first moment we see her, flipping that fabulous hair to reveal a perfect face and eyes lit up with mischief. Gilda's dazzling sexuality helps to make up for a frankly bewildering plot, but it also acts as cover for the movie's more daring depiction of the passionate attraction between its two male protagonists, played with smoldering intensity by Glenn Ford and George Macready.

Ford turns up first as Johnny Farrell, a drifter who blows into Buenos Aires and strikes up a strangely intense friendship with urbane casino owner Ballin Mundson (George Macready). They make a happy pair until Mundson brings Gilda (Hayworth) home as his wife. Johnny and Gilda have a past together, but Johnny dedicates himself to watching Gilda for Mundson's benefit, even though she seems determined to throw herself at every man in town. When Mundson's illicit business affairs end in his apparent death, Johnny takes his loyalty to extremes by marrying Gilda as a way to ensure her fidelity to the dead man.

The business end of the plot, which involves Germans, the tungsten market, and a mysterious pile of patents, merely muddies the narrative and gives Mundson a reason to act shifty and then disappear. Gilda never pays any attention to it, Johnny never understands it, and the viewer might as well ignore it, too. Mostly it makes Mundson a more sinister figure by giving him Nazi associations, but he already looks the part with his blond hair, refined features, and long facial scar. All of the really interesting scenes focus on the bizarre love triangle between the three leads; Johnny's eyes burn with a kind of crazed devotion to Mundson even as they ignite with equal hatred for the faithless Gilda. "Hate can be a very exciting emotion," Mundson observes, and that confusion of love and hate drives the picture. Johnny loves Mundson and hates Gilda, especially when Mundson gives Gilda the place that Johnny wishes to occupy himself, even though neither man would ever admit to the true nature of their mutual attraction. Gilda hates Johnny and punishes him through her marriage to Mundson; she hurts him more by pretending to cuckold the man Johnny loves. Mundson might not really love anyone except himself, but he certainly has strong feelings of some kind about both Johnny and Gilda, especially when he returns to find them married to each other and living off of his money.

Through it all, Hayworth is resplendent, a gorgeous bundle of utterly irrational femininity. Gilda's actions never make much sense except in her own mind, but the film doesn't present her as an intellect, merely an id. Mundson accurately describes her as "a beautiful, greedy child," although he doesn't add that she is the kind of child who would gleefully pull the wings off of flies. It's a sexist characterization, to be sure, but the film works because the camera loves Hayworth just as devotedly as Johnny loves Mundson. She blazes like a fiery idol; even her dubbed song numbers have a jaw-dropping effect, especially the famous "Put the Blame on Mame" segment, which ends with her threatening to strip in front of an eagerly leering audience. Her shocking behavior is all part of her scheme to hurt Johnny, but she really drives each nail in, delivering an endless stream of barbed lines. "If I'd been a ranch," she says, "they would have named me the bar nothing." The worse Gilda behaves, the more we adore her; even Johnny can't resist her electric appeal, though he might be the last person to figure that out. It's little wonder that the role became the signature moment of Hayworth's career; after all these years it's still so easy to fall under Gilda's provocative spell.

Be sure to appreciate Joseph Calleia and Steven Geray in supporting roles as Detective Obregon and Uncle Pio. For more of Rita Hayworth, see Cover Girl (1944), The Lady from Shanghai (1947), and Pal Joey (1957). Glenn Ford also stars in The Big Heat (1953), Blackboard Jungle (1955), and 3:10 to Yuma (1957). You'll find George Macready in The Big Clock (1948), Detective Story (1951), and Paths of Glory (1957). Charles Vidor directed Hayworth in both Cover Girl and The Loves of Carmen (1948); his other films include Hans Christian Andersen (1952), Love Me or Leave Me (1955), and the 1957 adaptation of A Farewell to Arms.

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.

A Cinematic Alphabet

Since I enjoyed reading other people's cinematic alphabets, I had to make my own. Of course, my choices are mostly classic movies, but I threw in some more recent films for those tricky last letters. I'm only listing movies I know well, and for the most part they are the ones that I think are the most "fun" for that letter. If I have a review of the film over on Examiner, then the link is provided, too. I have written about a lot of these for the book I am writing, but I'm trying to save that material just for the book!

A is for Arsenic and Old Lace
B is for Bringing Up Baby
C is for Cat People
D is for Double Indemnity
E is for Eyes Without a Face
F is for Forbidden Planet
G is for Gilda
H is for High Noon
I is for It Happened One Night
J is for Jezebel
K is for Kitty Foyle
L is for Laura
M is for The Mark of Zorro
N is for The Night of the Hunter
O is for On the Town
P is for The Philadelphia Story
Q is for The Quiet Man
R is for Rio Bravo
S is for Sunset Boulevard
T is for The Third Man
U is for The Usual Suspects
V is for Vertigo
W is for The Wolf Man
X is for Xanadu
Y is for Young Frankenstein
Z is for Zatoichi