Showing posts with label Frank Tuttle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frank Tuttle. Show all posts

The Glass Key (1935)

The Glass Key (1935) is an underworld of politics and crime thriller that is not film noir but well may be a proto-noir, but is an adaptation of a seminal Dashiell Hammett novel, later remade into a more lavish effort in 1942.

In the dimly lit chambers of literary discourse, where the flicker of candle flames dances upon the parchment, let us embark upon a journey through the labyrinthine corridors of this narrative. 

The tale that unfolds before us, like the intricate workings of a Victorian pocket watch, neither wears the gilded mask of merriment nor the embroidered cloak of frivolity. Nay, it treads the murky path of shadows and secrets, where the echoes of footsteps linger long after the last page is turned.

Our protagonist, Ned Beaumont, emerges from the fog of obscurity—a man of enigmatic countenance, his features etched by the chisel of fate. 

Suspense (1946)

Suspense (1946) is an ice-skating mystery film noir, combing the popular tropes of the self-propulsion and gliding of an dancer across an ice surface using metal-bladed ice skates — and the mystery and murder aspects of noir.

Barry Sullivan plays Joe Morgan, an unkempt drifter type who arrives in Los Angeles and winds up working at an ice theatre, the star of which is Roberta Elva, played by former Olympic skater Belita. The heavy crime and mystery melodrama which ensues is solid film noir, insofar as it is redolent of nothing less than a nightmare.

Hell on Frisco Bay (1955)

Hell on Frisco Bay (1955) is a satisfying colour flick set in and around the fishing wharf areas of San Francisco Bay. 

The picture opens as ex-cop Steve Rollins, played by Alan Ladd, is paroled and leaves San Quentin Prison in order to search San Francisco for the mobsters who framed him for manslaughter.

It's a pretty exciting opening few scenes, and it doesn't look like the gates of the prison have changed at all in the last seventy years. Of Steve Rollins prison years, we learn little, although they may likely have amounted to their own hell on Frisco Bay. Because of course, cops in stir are not usually that popular.

There at the gate of San Quentin, waiting for him, is his wife and former police partner. As his wife has been unfaithful to him while he was banged up, it appears, Steve Rollins rejects her and opts to take the bus to town. 

In this decision, his partner joins him, leaving the wife alone; the first of many casually handled scenes involving women on Frisco Bay.

This Gun For Hire (1942)

This Gun For Hire (1942) — one of the finest of the early film noirs out there — and the first to show off the mutual talents of Veronica Lake and Alan Ladd — is a classic of its kind, which much to interest the casual movie buff, the armchair semiotician, or anybody with an interest in the golden age of the silver screen.  

This classic film noir features a troubled protagonist, a strange mix of genres, and a mean streak that has you questioning its cruelty from the off.  

This Gun for Hire might be the title, in fact, but I would on occasion simply like to refer to it as Psychopaths of 1942 — because that is what it is like at times.  

The psychopath was fairly new to the cinema at this stage, and Alan Ladd here plays 'Raven', a pscyho that quickly turns to hero.