Port of New York (1949)

Port of New York (1949) is a police procedural narcotics semi-documentary tough guy cheapo crime thriller film noir with location shooting, earnest voiceovers and striking dark camera work.

Drug gangsters abound in this early tale of the war against drugs, back in the day when packages were suspicious and the drug evil and crackdowns were both new.

Loud and operatic music accompanies K T Stevens and Yul Brunner as she offers herself to him in exchange for her freedom, in tough amoral crime kingpin fashion.

The opium-laden S.S. Florentine slinks into the murky harbor of New York City, its sleek exterior betraying the sinister cargo concealed within.

A chill wind whips through the air as cool blonde K.T. Stevens, embodying the enigmatic Toni Cardell, steps onto the rain-slicked dock, her presence dripping with an aura of mystery and danger. But beneath her icy exterior lies a tumult of emotions, fuelled by a brutal murder that stains the ship's deck with black and white bloodshed.

It's cheap and dirty and brutal and everything you might crave from the fringe style that is noir, bursting to unload on you, that pent up anger, by 1949 it was seething and fit to boil over.

Port of New York (1949)

Distraught and desperate, Ms. Stevens seeks solace in the arms of drug-smuggling kingpin Yul Brynner, his dark charisma oozing from every pore as he embodies the role of Paul Vicola with a sinister allure.

Yet, her pleas fall on deaf ears, and she is callously cast aside, her hopes dashed against the rocky shores of betrayal. With no other recourse, Stevens resolves to auction her illicit knowledge to Federal investigator Richard Rober, his steely gaze piercing through the fog of deception that shrouds the criminal underworld.

K.T. Stevens and Yul Brunner in Port of New York (1949)

Together with his youthful partner Scott Brady, Rober embarks on a perilous journey into the heart of darkness, tracking the illicit trade of narcotics to the doorstep of addicted nightclub comic Arthur Blake. Blake, portrayed with haunting intensity, grapples with his demons amidst the throes of withdrawal, his comedic façade crumbling like a sandcastle before the relentless tide of addiction.

K.T. Stevens in Port of New York (1949)

Amidst the swirling currents of deception and deceit, dancer friend Lynne Carter emerges as a beacon of hope, her unwavering loyalty a glimmer of light in the shadowy depths of despair. Yet, even as the truth unravels like a threadbare tapestry, the specter of darkness looms ever closer, threatening to engulf them all in its suffocating embrace.

Scott Brady noir in Port of New York (1949)

Narrated by the resonant tones of future news-reader Chet Huntley, Port of New York emerges as a hidden gem in the murky waters of film noir. At its helm is Rober, a commanding presence who channels the spirit of William Holden with uncanny precision, his performance a testament to the untapped potential that lies within.

Alongside him, a fine supporting cast breathes life into the seedy underbelly of New York's criminal underworld, with Blake's drug-addled stand-up comic standing out as a particularly memorable highlight.

Richard Rober in Port of New York (1949)

But perhaps the most captivating performance of all belongs to Brynner, whose portrayal of the villainous drug lord is nothing short of mesmerizing.

With most of his hair intact and his visage unshaven, Brynner cuts a striking figure as he navigates the treacherous waters of illicit trade with a sense of ruthless determination. As the credits roll and the curtain falls on this gripping tale of crime and redemption, audiences are left to ponder the murky depths of human nature, where darkness and light collide in a tempestuous dance upon the storm-tossed seas of fate.

Vacuum Cleaners in film noir — Port of New York (1949)

In a narrative drenched with the relentless downpour of rain, Chet Huntley introduces the scene set amidst the sodden streets of the Port of New York, where the air hangs heavy with the oppressive weight of humidity, each breath thick with the moisture of impending danger. Here, amid the mist-shrouded docks, two slick federal agents, Mickey Waters of the U.S. Customs Service and Jim Flannery of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, wade through the murky depths of a criminal underworld saturated with treachery and deceit.

From the outset, Port of New York plunges viewers into its dark and unforgiving world with a semi-documentary style, complete with a narrator guiding us through the seedy underbelly of crime. We're thrust into a world where drug dealers meet grisly ends and innocuous boxes reveal deadly secrets, setting the stage for a relentless pursuit by federal agents determined to unearth the truth.

Yul Brunner in Port of New York (1949)

What truly captivates about this film is its unapologetic brutality. There's no sugarcoating here—murders are carried out with chilling precision, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. It's a testament to the film's uncompromising vision that it never shies away from the darker aspects of human nature, presenting a world where ruthlessness reigns supreme.

Yet, amidst the chaos and carnage, "Port of New York" is a masterclass in tight, well-crafted storytelling. Every scene crackles with tension, every twist and turn keeping audiences on the edge of their seats. Despite its modest budget, there's nothing second-rate about the film's execution—it's a testament to the power of raw talent and unbridled creativity.

Paul Vicola: Tie him up. Mr. Wylie's leaving the boat.

Richard Rober in Port of New York (1949)

In the noiranalysis and final conjecturing sections of cinematic thinking relevant to Port of New York, this movie of movies stands as a shining example of the genre at its finest. It's a brutal, unflinching portrait of a world where morality is a luxury few can afford, and survival is the name of the game. And for fans of noir like myself, it's a thrilling journey into the heart of darkness, where the only certainty is uncertainty, and danger lurks around every corner.

The stolen opium shipment from the S.S. Florentine becomes the focal point of a watery conspiracy, sending ripples through the rain-soaked alleys and backstreets of the port city. Against this backdrop of dripping shadows and slick surfaces, the discovery of the ship's purser, submerged in a pool of brackish water, adds a chilling layer of moisture to the already saturated air. Meh not really. Don't let AI dream up everything here.

In 1998 the film critic of The Austin Chronicle offered a mixed review, stating:

Semi-documentary police procedurals became quite popular for a while in the late Forties, with lots of location shooting and official-sounding voiceovers. Port of New York follows in the style of The House on 92nd Street and Jules Dassin's The Naked City, with a fair amount of suspense and plenty of violent fisticuffs. George Diskant brought his striking camera work to bear as well; sometimes the 'dark film' is so dark it's hard to even see what's going on. Most notable, however, is Brynner's first film role; he plays Vicola with sleek menace and self-assured evil (and with a full head of hair, too, I might add). Not an outstanding film, Port of New York is well-suited to its subject matter and has been rather neglected for years

In 2007 Oszus film critic Dennis Schwartz also gave the film a mixed review, writing:

An unknown Yul Brynner, with all his hair, in his first film role, plays a well-spoken, smug narcotics smuggler named Paul Vicola. It's directed by Lazslo Benedek (The Wild One/The Night Visitor/Death of a Salesman) in a voice-over documentary style...It generates an authentic sinister atmosphere, having been filmed on location in New York. The police investigation procedural drama plays as minor film noir, that follows along the usual routine lines for such Eagle-Lion cheapie crime stories ... Not much to get excited about, but it does feature an early acting part by Yul Brynner as a ruthless gangster.

Enter Toni Cardell, a femme fatale ensnared in a web of desire and deception, her glistening form illuminated by the flickering glow of neon lights reflected in the slick pavement. With her heart pounding like the relentless patter of raindrops on a tin roof, she navigates the treacherous waters of her relationship with the smooth-talking drug dealer, Paul Vicola, his charm as slippery as an eel in a murky pond.

As Toni plunges deeper into the mire of intrigue, her voice drips with honeyed lies, her words falling like rain on thirsty soil as she strikes a dangerous bargain with the devil himself. But in the steamy depths of their illicit affair, betrayal lurks like a lurking alligator beneath the surface of a murky swamp, ready to strike at the first sign of weakness.

No crime too vicious ... no justice too swift for the Merchants of Death who lurk in its shadows !

Meanwhile, the federal agents slog through the sodden streets, their footsteps echoing like distant thunder as they track their elusive prey. Through the relentless torrent of rain, they follow the twisted trail of clues, their determination as unyielding as the unrelenting downpour that surrounds them.

In a dimly lit subway station, the air thick with the acrid scent of damp concrete and mildew, Toni's fate is sealed in a sudden burst of violence, her life snuffed out like a candle in the driving wind. But even as the rain beats down upon the slick pavement, the agents press on, their resolve as unyielding as the unrelenting storm that rages around them.

In the final showdown aboard Vicola's yacht, the rain lashes against the deck with the fury of a vengeful god, the waves crashing against the hull like thunderous applause. Amidst the chaos and confusion, the agents stand firm, their spirits as damp and heavy as the sodden earth beneath their feet, as they prepare to face their ultimate reckoning in the watery depths of the criminal underworld.

The race against time is federally arranged arounds the pursuit of the suspect played by K T Stevens and there are some street and subway and raised railway snoop and pursuit scenes which prefigure the epic fun of much later films like The French Connection (1971).

László Benedek made his feature film directing debut with The Kissing Bandit (1948) at MGM, produced by Pasternak; it was a notorious flop.

In the US, Benedek worked on the montage scenes of Test Pilot (1938) at MGM. He edited A Little Bit of Heaven (1940) for Pasternak at Universal.

At MGM he was assistant director on Song of Russia (1944) and worked as an associate producer under Joe Pasternak. Among his jobs included doing screen tests, second unit directing, and supervising the animated dance sequence in Anchors Aweigh (1945).

In 1946 he was linked with communist front organisations. He went to Eagle Lion where he directed a noir, Port of New York (1949) starring Yul Brynner, you know that because this is the Port of New York article. For Stanley Kramer he then made Death of a Salesman (1951) which was a financial disappointment.

He produced but did not direct Storm Over Tibet (1952) (Marton directed), started to direct television, notably episodes of Footlights Theater, and The Ford Television Theatre.

Kramer gave him the job of The Wild One (1953) with Marlon Brando, originally called The Cyclist's Raid. He went over to Universal to do Bengal Rifles (1954) with Rock Hudson.