Alan Ladd Betrayed in "Captain Carey, U.S.A."

The studio sets are pretty convincing.

Webb Carey (Alan Ladd) provides intelligence to the Allies while hiding out on an island off the coast of Italy during World War II. The local residents know about the Americano and a fellow officer, but not the location of their base of operations. It turns out that Webb has discovered a secret room belonging to the de Cresci family, where valuable art has been stored for centuries.

Webb has also fall in love with Giulia de Cresci, whom he calls Julie. Tragedy strikes when the Nazis somehow discover the secret room and shoot Webb, kill his friend, and drag Julie away--as Webb hears a gunshot.

Years later, long after the war has ended, Webb finds a de Cresci-owned painting--one once stored in the secret room--for sale by an art dealer in New York. That causes him to return to Italy to find out who betrayed him and who murdered Julie.

Made in 1950, the blandly-titled Captain Carey, U.S.A. is a post-war drama in the same vein as The Third Man (1949) and Cornered (1944). It most closely resembles the latter, which is a far better film than Captain Carey. That's not Alan Ladd's fault. He carries the first half of the film on his shoulders admirably. His disillusioned character reminds me of a watered-down version of the noir anti-heroes he played in classics like This Gun for Hire.

Alan Ladd and Wanda Hendrix.

It should come as no surprise that Julie is not dead and, even worse, she is married to another man. When she finally confronts an embittered Webb, he quips: "What do you want from me? A wedding present?"

Any hopes for a post-war noir vanish, though, when Webb and Julie team up to find a killer who has been covering their treasonous tracks. Wanda Hendrix, who portrays Julie, never convinces the audience that she is a strong-willed survivor equally obsessed with the truth. She's certainly no match for Ladd's driven hero and she somehow manages to make him seem less interesting.

Ladd listening to "Mona Lisa."

There are still some bright spots in Captain Carey, U.S.A. The film introduced the popular Ray Evans-Jerry Livingston song "Mona Lisa," which won an Oscar. It was not crooned by Nat King Cole in the movie, though. Instead, it's sung by the partisans as a warning for the approach of the Nazis. The film also boasts an early screen appearance by Russ (billed as Rusty) Tamblyn, who gets a chance to show off his acrobatic skills.

If you're searching for a gripping post-war revenge drama, then I recommend watching Cornered, which features one of Dick Powell's best performances. However, you could do worse than Captain Carey and, if you're an Alan Ladd fan, then you'll likely enjoy it.

This Gun For Hire: One of the Great Film Noirs in American Cinema

Alan Ladd in his star-making role.

This practically perfect early noir has a strong reputation and yet, while researching for this review, I was left with the feeling that it's underrated. The prestigious British Film Institute doesn't even include This Gun for Hire (1942) in its list of "10 Great American Film Noirs." (Yes, it would rank in my Top Ten.)

Alan Ladd became a star as anti-hero Raven, a contract killer who is double-crossed by his client. The film's opening scene tells us all we need to know about the quiet Raven. He takes in a stray kitten and feeds it milk. But when the cleaning lady (dressed like a showgirl) shoos away the cat, Raven grabs her, rips her dress, and slaps her backhanded across the face. Here is a man that is ruthless, but with a morsel of humanity buried deep inside. (Later, Raven tries to rationalize his affection for cats by claiming that they bring luck.)

Raven kills the innocent girlfriend.

Still, the screenplay by Albert Maltz and W. R. Burnett leaves no doubt that, first and foremost, Raven is a man that will do whatever is required. Knowing that a victim's innocent girlfriend can identify him, Raven shoots her in cold blood. Later, after vowing not to kill again, he does just that when trying to evade a policeman.

The plot hinges on a chance encounter when Raven and nightclub entertainer Ellen Graham (Veronica Lake) wind up sitting together on a train from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Raven is going to L.A. to find Willard Gates (Laird Cregar), an obvious middleman who hired Raven and then tipped off the police by paying the killer with stolen money. Raven's objective is to find out who Gates works for and then kill Gates and his employer.

Unknown to Raven, Ellen is also traveling to meet Gates, who owns The Neptune Club. A U.S. senator has informed Ellen that Gates is working for a powerful man who is selling a secret formula to the enemy. Ellen's mission is to find out the identity of Gates' employer.

Veronica Lake and Alan Ladd.

The glue that holds the film together is the relationship between Raven and Ellen. From the outset, he is surprised by her kindness. When he steals $5 from her, she demands he return it, but then offers to give him $1. Raven admires her street smarts and, though he's careful never to show it, he undoubtedly finds her attractive. Most importantly, Raven trusts her--enough to describe his abusive childhood (if only in the context of a dream).

Ellen is touched by the fact this hardened killer is willing to confide his darkest secret to her. She is also attracted to his decisiveness and moxie when he rescues her from Gates' henchman. In many films, this relationship would have involved into an unlikely romance. But in This Gun for Hire, Ellen kisses Raven on the cheek and that's it. There are no looks of missed opportunities. Raven is simply not a man that falls in love easily (if at all). And Ellen truly loves her police detective boyfriend (Robert Preston).

Laird Cregar as Gates,

Despite the fine performances from the leads, Laird Cregar almost steals the film as Gates. He's a villain that's willing to send a hired gun to kill people, but wants no part of the actual event. When his henchman is describing how he will skilfully dispose of Ellen's body, Gates squirms uncomfortably and tells him to stop. Cregar provides the film's humor, but in a subtle way that never comes across as obvious comic relief. It's a performance that somehow reminded me of Vincent Price's turn as Shelby Carpenter in Laura (1944).

Director Frank Tuttle and cinematographer John Seitz team up on a number of exciting visuals. The chase through the train yard and the drainage pipes may be the film's highlight, but there are clever bits throughout. My favorite may be a scene where the hotel maid goes to use a pay phone in a police-filled lobby, unaware that Raven is hiding there. He presses his gun against her side as she pretends to talk on the phone. Her phone dialogue consists of answers to his questions. It's a brilliant merger of smart dialogue and murky lighting.

Veronica Lake as Ellen.

John Seitz, by the way, would earn seven Oscar nominations for cinematography during his career. He served as the director of photography on a number of film noir classics, including Double Indemnity (1944), The Big Clock (1948), and Sunset Blvd. (1950).

This Gun for Hire was loosely based on Graham Greene's 1936 novel This Gun for Sale. James Cagney directed a remake in 1957 called Short Cut to Hell, which starred Robert Ivers and Georgann Johnson. It was Cagney's only stint in the director's chair.

Raymond Chandler's "The Blue Dahlia"

The Blue Dahlia nightclub.

"As pictures go, it is pretty lively. No classic, but no dud either."

That's how Raymond Chandler described the movie made from his only original screenplay in a 1946 letter. Chandler was typically critical of his work. In fact, The Blue Dahlia is a very good film noir. It's almost a classic, but a hastily-constructed ending and some sloppiness around the edges keep it from achieving that goal.

Alan Ladd as Johnny.

Alan Ladd stars as Johnny Morrison, a Navy officer who has returned from World War II to find his wife Helen throwing a wild party and smooching another man. Things go downhill from there, especially when Helen confesses that she lied about their son's death--the young boy died in a car accident while she was driving under the influence. Understandably, Johnny walks out on his wife and hitches a ride with a beautiful stranger named Joyce (Veronica Lake), who happens to be the wife of Helen's lover.

Buzz talking with Helen (Doris Dowling).

If you think that's a startling coincidence, then consider that Johnny's Navy pal Buzz goes to look for Johnny. He ends up in a bar sitting next to Helen, who invites him back to her apartment. The next morning, the hotel maid finds Helen's dead body. As the police search for Johnny, he starts his own investigation to uncover Helen's murderer.

As a novelist, Raymond Chandler was a master at intertwining subplots into a complex mystery. His attempts to do the same in The Blue Dahlia rely too much on coincidences. To Chandler's defense, he was given little time to write the screenplay. According to producer John Houseman, Paramount was in a rush to finish the picture because Alan Ladd was being recalled to the Army. (Others have maintained that Ladd, who served a year in the Army in 1943, was never recalled in 1946 and left for his ranch when The Blue Dahlia was completed.)

(Spoiler alert on the way!)

Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake.

The film's biggest flaw, though, is the slapdash ending in which the house detective turns out to be the killer (I'm still foggy on his motive). It's also weird to watch Johnny and Joyce playfully flirt in the final scene. Johnny has apparently failed to inform her that her husband lies dead or critically wounded. It's hard to totally blame Chandler for either of these inconsistencies. His original ending had Buzz, who was suffering from a head injury, murder Helen and then forget it until the climax. Unfortunately, the Department of the Navy objected, fearing that it would cast U.S. veterans in a negative light. Paramount requested the revised ending and Chandler provided it.

Despite its flaws, Chandler's script boasts well-developed characters and sharp dialogue. I love the little touches like a thug knocking out Johnny, spotting a nice pen in his pocket, and taking it. Chandler received an Oscar nomination for Best Original Screenplay. Two years earlier, Chandler received his only other nomination for co-writing Double Indemnity with Billy Wilder.

Veronica Lake as Joyce.

The Blue Dahlia was the third of four screen pairings of Alan Ladd and Veronica Lake. They had learned to play off each naturally by then, making their "meet cute" a charming scene despite its unlikeliness (really, why would someone like Joyce pick up a complete stranger walking along the road?). In fact. The Blue Dahlia may feature my favorite Veronica Lake performance. The supporting cast is solid, though William Bendix goes over the top once or twice as the troubled Buzz.

While Chandler thought George Marshall was a mediocre director, Marshall keeps the plot moving along smartly. He also employs some effective long shots, such as when Joyce spots Johnny at a hotel desk and warns him about the police.

The bottom line is that The Blue Dahlia remains a memorable film noir despite its imperfections. It's just not as well-written as Chandler's Double Indemnity nor as stylish as Ladd and Lake's This Gun for Hire.

Shane: Can a Reformed Gunfighter with a Mysterious Past Find a Role in the "New West"?

Ladd in perhaps his most famous role.

Although Alan Ladd made several Westerns prior to Shane, I initially thought he’d be ill-suited for the role of a reformed gunslinger. Short in stature and with an urban demeanor, Ladd had his biggest success playing contemporary tough guys (e.g., This Gun for Hire). But Ladd proved me wrong, channeling his quiet coolness and low-key charm to create a classic Western hero.

Shane dances with Marion.

That works well since there’s more character study than story in Shane. Van Heflin plays Joe Starrett, a hard-working man trying to make a home for his wife Marion (Jean Arthur) and son Joey (Brandon de Wilde) on the frontier. Starrett and his fellow farmers are embroiled in a dispute over land rights with cattle baron Riker (Emile Meyer). Shane, a stranger passing through, decides to hang around when the Starretts welcome him into their home with generosity.

Joe and Shane cement their friendship.

Shane fills a void in the life of each family member. For Joe, Shane is a “man’s man” willing to work or fight beside him—whether it’s a barroom brawl or the war against Riker. For Marion, Shane is the attentive suitor, who notices the little things that her reliable, but bland husband never does. And for little Joey, Shane is a substitute father who takes time to bond with him—something his busy father has had little time to do.

Shane’s gunfighting past is never in question. When Joey cocks his little rifle, the ever-ready gunslinger spins around to draw his pistol. In a later scene, the two have this brief, but memorable, exchange:

JOEY:  Bet you can shoot.
SHANE: A little bit.

Brandon de Wilde as Joey.

There’s never a doubt as to how Shane will end, but director George Stevens slowly and effectively builds to the climax. His best scenes offer visuals to complement the dialogue. My favorite is Shane’s first dinner at the Starrett farm, a scene in which the dialogue hardly matters. What does matter is what we see: Joe thrilled to have a man to talk with; Marion laying out the good china and an extra fork; and Joey admiring Shane’s guns.

Ironically, Shane shares more in common with Riker than with the Starrett family. Indeed, they may have been friends, or partners perhaps, in the earlier days of the West. However, Shane recognizes that the tough men who tamed the West are no longer in demand. Instead, the frontier now needs men like Starrett that will raise families, build communities, and shape commerce. It's not an uncommon Western theme (and one explored more symbolically in Sergio Leone's Once Upon a Time in the West). However, director Stevens conveys it subtly and never strays from the film's strength: its characters and the actors who play them.

Jack Palance as the ruthless Wilson.

Most of the cast is in top form, especially Ladd, Heflin, and Jack Palance as a rival gunfighter so mean that dogs move out of his way. Jean Arthur, not one of my favorite actresses, never convinces me that Marion is the kind of woman who could reform Shane. On the other hand, I found Brandon de Wilde to be exceptionally believable as Joey. But, to offer a counterpoint, little Brandon is one of the reasons that a good friend of mine has never cared for Shane.

Personally, I rank it as one of the great Westerns. It may be too stately at times and, surprisingly, the production values are variable (ranging from scenic snow-covered mountains in the background to hokey stagy sets--though Loyal Griggs won an Oscar for cinematography). But it’s a well-done, entertaining film that has inspired its share of imitators. Some of those semi-remakes are enjoyable in their own right, especially Clint Eastwood’s Pale Rider and Soldier with Kurt Russell.