Archive for Dane Clark

Damon and Pythias in Van Nuys

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 16, 2020 by dcairns

Guest Shadowplayer Chris Schneider always makes me happy when he writes something for me–

“I thought I knew the wheat from the chaff,” go the words of the song, “what a laugh!” The song is “Can’t We Be Friends.” It can be heard in two Vincent Sherman-directed crime dramas, NORA PRENTISS and BACKFIRE.

NORA PRENTISS is SISTER CARRIE, sort-of, only reworked for a post-war Warner Brothers world of chantoozies and criminal intent. BACKFIRE has other things on its mind.

BACKFIRE, which I saw for the first time a week ago, is more concerned with traumatized WW2 vets and a “Damon and Pythias” friendship — not to mention gambling and alcohol and murders being committed by a hand-with-a-gun-in-it whose identity we’re unable to see. Compare it to DEAD RECKONING for the “Damon and Pythias.” Compare it, too, to Sherman’s earlier THE UNFAITHFUL as an example of b-team noir used as an excuse for location shooting (Glendale, Van Nuys, Olvera St.) and showing off the talents of contract players.

Gordon MacRae, who’s in a Van Nuys hospital, seeks out fellow soldier Edmund O’Brien with the aid of nurse Virginia Mayo. Viveca Lindfors, who appears like a phantom at MacRae’s bedside, encourages this effort. Lindfors, who turns out to be a singer kept in niceties by an unseen gambler, is also concerned about O’Brien. Dane Clark, another friend from military days, looks on from the sidelines.

The main problem with BACKFIRE is that the putative hero and heroine, MacRae and Mayo, are so dull. Lindfors comes off best. She gets star close-ups, a Milo Anderson gown, and a French song. One reads about how, when the film’s release was held back a few years, posters and publicity were finessed so that they favored Mayo. Was the (SPOILERS ahead) off-camera death of Lindfors’ character a hasty reshoot designed to play down her importance?

DEAD RECKONING had Bogart and his soldier pal, and BACKFIRE has O’Brien and MacRae. The question this kind of story provokes — at least in LGBT viewers — is whether things are “homosocial” or actually homosexual. I ain’t sayin’ yes and I ain’t sayin’ no. Let’s just say that MacRae is awf’lly concerned about his absent beloved. Midway through, when a low-level masher keeps asking Lindfors to dance with him, O’Brien asks the guy if he wants to dance with *him*. When the film’s happy end occurs, with a truck riding off into the horizon, that truck contains MacRae and Mayo and O’Brien — like an obverse of the three-way ménage at the end of DARK VICTORY.

Too bad that the Mayo/MacRae relationship is strictly from Snoresville. Also that Dane Clark falls victim to an ill-considered plot-twist and is saddled with an unplayable final scene. Or that a servant played by Leonard Strong speaks in egregious “velly solly”-style Asian Stereotype-speak.

Oh well. At least the post-war Warners zeitgeist is in evidence. And Lindfors, who has a moment or two reminding us that she was capable of MISS JULIE (“Didn’t you know? I like it here. It’s gay and exciting. I have all I ever dreamed of as a girl.”), does look splendid.

Tuttle Recall

Posted in FILM, Politics with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 7, 2018 by dcairns

Frank Tuttle was a rather gifted director, I’m inclined to think, but he’s a bit problematic politically — in 1947 he was blacklisted due to his former membership of the communist party. In 1951 he gave HUAC thirty-six names (according to Wikipedia).

During the interim, he made GUNMAN IN THE STREETS in Paris, so I guess it’s the equivalent of Dmytryk’s rather good OBSESSION — the bridge between his pre-rat and post-rat phases. It’s almost a really good movie, too, though it lacks the verve and grit of something like RIFIFI (also made by a blacklistee in Paree). It’s more like the pre-war poetic realism stuff.

Dane Clark plays an American gangster in Paris, an ex-serviceman gone rogue, now a fugitive trying to get out of the country. Phlegmatic copper Fernand Gravey is hot on his trail, or as hot as Fernand Gravey ever gets. Clark turns to his former moll, Simone Signoret, and she gets funds from her current lover, Robert “who he?” Duke. There’s a double amour fou going on, with Signoret powerless to resist Clark and Duke in thrall to her.

The events of the story are all interesting in theory, and Tuttle’s visual approach — mostly elegant sequence shots — is fine, enhanced by Eugen Schüfftan’s misty cinematography (IMDb also credits Claude Renoir, but the movie doesn’t). The problems come from the script and the actors.

The great Jacques Companéez (listed as “Jack”), a master of this milieu, seems to have originated the story, but the dialogue feels like a too-literal translation from the French. We don’t need lashings of argot, necessarily, but we can’t have a hoodlum saying “I left my identification in my automobile.” It’s a slight problem having American and French characters and everyone speaking English, but the bigger issue is that it’s such flavourless, denatured English.

 

Gravey is good, but lacks the drive to propel his manhunt narrative forward with urgency, and he’s surrounded by Francophones whose timing is way off, a problem in Tuttle’s long takes. Then you have the romantic triangle, where Signoret’s style is rock-solid — her last close-up is devastating — Clark is miscast as a tough guy though he does his best — and Duke seems at sea in a difficult part. He comes across as a wimp and I’m not sure he’s supposed to.

Colourful supporting performance from Michel Andrê as a sleazy “artist” complete with dressing gown and cat.

Apparently there’s a simultaneously-shot French version of this movie, with several less writers, and Borys Lewin as credited director. Same cast. Wonder what that’s like?

Quote of the Day: Mr. Dog

Posted in FILM with tags , , , on February 3, 2008 by dcairns

 when the moon hits your eye

The film is Frank Borzage’s sublime MOONRISE (1948). The actors, reading from left to right, are Rex Ingram (divine gravitas), as Mose, and Dane Clark (sensitive, painfully expressive face) as Danny Hawkins.

Sexy Rexy

Danny: “Mister Dog…!” Why you call everything “mister”?

Mose: Isn’t enough dignity in the world.

Great Dane

This film is INEXPRESSABLY BEAUTIFUL.