.png)
Yet maybe just floating upon that watermark does not mean your every film production is a classic, and most certainly of all, unlikely to be a classic of the film noir style.
What My Six Convicts (1952) does manage is a sympathetic-psychopathic portmanteau of movie moodiness with the nascent form of the movie madman being treated of as seriously as it could have been after just having undergone a fantastical 1940s of fun and fear, in which cod-psychoanalytic crime detection became
The film kicks off with John Beal's arrival at the prison, tasked with trialing a psychological rehabilitation system for convicts. However, progress is slow until Millard Mitchell's seasoned safe-cracker takes a chance on the new doc.
As Beal begins to establish his methods, the allure of a cushy gig in the psycho office draws in a motley crew of inmates: Gilbert Roland's hardened mobster, Marshall Thompson's troubled alcoholic, Alf Kjellin's remorseful thief, Harry Morgan's chilling psychopath, and Jay Adler's cunning embezzler.
With each character bringing their own complexities and challenges, Beal's psychological experiment takes shape amidst the gritty reality of prison life. As alliances form and tensions simmer, the stage is set for a captivating exploration of redemption, manipulation, and the human psyche behind bars.
.png)
.png) |
| Charles Bronson sliding into view in My Six Convicts (1952) |
A shrink, John Beal, steps into the belly of the beast, hoping to mend minds gone astray behind iron bars. But as he delves deeper, he realizes this joint ain't about rehabilitation; it's a pit of despair where hope withers like a cigarette butt in an ashtray.
Violence simmers, anger festers, and trust is a commodity more scarce than a kind word in a house of pain. The cons, they play their cards close, ain't no fools in this game. They know the score, and survival ain't for the faint of heart.
Amongst 'em are the psychos, the rebels, the ones who ain't fooled by the smoke and mirrors. They dance to their own tune, masters of their own fate in a world that chewed 'em up and spat 'em out.
.png)
As the shrink's illusions crumble like stale bread, he sees the convicts for what they are: survivors, fighters in a rigged game. Their defiance, their self-worth, it's a slap in the face to a system that sees 'em as nothing but expendable pawns.
Fregonese paints a picture of grit and defiance, where even in the darkest of places, a flicker of humanity burns bright. These convicts ain't just cogs in a machine; they're warriors in a battle for dignity, clawing back what little control they can in a world hell-bent on grinding 'em down.
The film opens with a naive psychiatrist, aiming to single-handedly overhaul the penitentiary system. Yet, don't be fooled by this noble premise - the exploration of psychological theories is nothing more than shallow buzz-word gobbledygook. Instead, the focus shifts to the six convicts, who, despite their criminal pasts, emerge as the true protagonists.
.png)
The only saving grace amidst this blast against mediocrity, could I state that in earnest, reliably is Connie's humorous malapropisms, providing fleeting amusement amidst the grim backdrop of San Quentin. While the juxtaposition of comedy and harsh reality attempts to add depth, it falls short of genuine engagement.
Visually, the film offers sophisticated and clichéd wide-angle shots of prison starkness. Any intimacy is contrived by means of mood light and gritted teeth, and the score, that is a real thing too although I don't think it will ever be made available on long player format.
In the end, this film is forgettable at best, best at forgettable, so much so a second chance is always in the offing with this kind of film noir, relying on tired tropes or more likely, making them tired, tiring out the tropes in screen time, and lacking any real substance, maybe not that entirely. It's a disappointing addition to the genre, no it is not, offering something more beyond fleeting moments of mild entertainment.
.png) |
| Harry Morgan in My Six Convicts (1952) |
This unconventional take on the prison genre, focusing on the psychological aspect, certainly deviates from the traditional tropes of violence and escape plans. While some may find this refreshing, I, for one, found myself rather bored. Films like Riot in Cell Block 11 or Brute Force offer a more gripping exploration of the prison experience.
In Fregonese's cinematic adaptation of a psychologist's gritty memoir, the spotlight ain't on the shrink but on them behind bars. With Stanley Kramer pulling the strings and San Quentin as the haunting backdrop, My Six Convicts ain't just a movie; it's a masterstroke of auteurism.
Ehshan Khoshbakht, the discerning eye of Il Cinema Ritrovato, rightly sees Fregonese's hand in every frame, molding the prison walls into more than just bricks and steel. It's a canvas where violence thrives, where every shadow whispers of despair and defiance.
The controlled chaos of the cellblocks mirrors the director's meticulous craft, weaving a tale where comfort is a foreign concept and belonging is but a distant dream. In Fregonese's hands, the prison becomes a character itself, relentless and unforgiving, shaping the lives of those trapped within its grasp.
My Six Convicts ain't just about therapy sessions and breakthroughs; it's a journey into the heart of darkness, where survival means more than just staying alive—it's about holding onto humanity in a place where it's in short supply. And in Fregonese's vision, every moment is a revelation, every scene a testament to the resilience of the human spirit against the backdrop of confinement.
For years, I avoided this Hugo Fregonese film, and now I understand why. It confirmed my suspicions that it just wasn't my cup of tea. Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad film per se, but for those seeking the adrenaline rush of a classic crime flick, this one falls short. It's more of a psychological drama than a gritty thriller.
In My Six Convicts, we're taken into the pioneering world of prison psychology, where John Beal's Doc embarks on a six-month trial to delve into the minds of inmates. His mission: to gauge their IQs and delve into their backgrounds, all in the name of revolutionizing prison staffing.
Doc's journey isn't smooth sailing; he faces the daunting task of earning the trust of hardened convicts. Through some clever manoeuvring and the help of inmate James Connie, played with finesse by Millard Mitchell, Doc gains traction. Mitchell's portrayal earned him a well-deserved Golden Globe in 1952, showcasing the film's standout performances.
Among the colorful cast of convicts are Gilbert Roland, Harry Morgan, Marshall Thompson, and Jay Adler, each adding depth to the narrative. While the film takes liberties with its fictionalized plot, inspired by Donald Powell Wilson's autobiography, it retains the essence of his ground-breaking work.
Oh yeah, according to film critic and Il Cinema Ritrovato curator Ehshan Khoshbakht, “the controlled space of the prison becomes a metaphor for the filmmaking itself, in which every element is determined by Fregonese, especially in his mosaic-like arrangement of the violence inherent in spaces of confinement...eroding any sense of comfort and belonging.”
Though set in San Quentin, rather than Fort Leavenworth as in Wilson's memoir, My Six Convicts offers a fictionalized yet compelling glimpse into the world of prison psychology. It's a tale of trust, transformation, and the power of understanding, brought to life by a stellar cast and a thought-provoking premise.
So, while it may appeal to a niche audience interested in the inner workings of inmates' minds, for the average moviegoer in search of gripping prison narratives, there are plenty in film noir, plenty plenty of them in classic film noir..
The original taglines of this slice of '52 prison paranoia speak from hard experience:
THE PRIVATE LIVES OF PUBLIC ENEMIES! (original print ad - all caps)
The Warm Side of the Guys Inside the Cold Stone Walls!
It's the Human Side of the Men Inside the Big House!
It's open house at the Big House!
No comments:
Post a Comment