Dick Powell Transforms His Career with Murder, My Sweet

Dick Powell as Marlowe.

My favorite fictional detectives are the erudite, snobbish Philo Vance and the sarcastic, sly Philip Marlowe. Both have been the subject of numerous films, but with middling results. Marlowe has been played by an unusual assortment of actors that includes Humphrey Bogart, Robert Montgomery, George Montgomery, James Garner, Elliott Gould, Robert Mitchum, and Liam Neeson. Bogart captured Marlowe’s toughness. Garner projected the right amount of sarcasm. Mitchum exhibited the requisite amount of world-weariness. But none of them could compare to the cinema’s first Philip Marlowe, as portrayed by Dick Powell in Edward Dmytryk’s smashing film noir Murder, My Sweet.

Powell's performance is all the more impressive when one considers his previous films were lighthearted musicals. Indeed, Powell’s early success as a crooner stifled his acting career. (By the way, he had a pleasant voice; my Mom had several of his records.)  But Powell’s career star status was dimming when RKO signed him to a contract. He still had enough clout to pick his own films and his first RKO effort was Murder,  My Sweet. It was based on the second Marlowe novel Farewell, My Lovely—which was my father's favorite book in the series (my second fave to The Lady in Lake).

Like all of Raymond Chandler’s novels, the colorful characters and seedy, neon-lit atmosphere of 1940s Los Angeles overpower the complex plotting which intertwines two mysteries. In the first, a big homicidal lug named Moose Malloy hires Marlowe to find Velma, his former girlfriend. He hasn’t seen her for eight years and it’s been six since she wrote. Of course, Moose spent most of that time in prison--but he still pines for his sweet, little Velma and desperately wants to be with her.

Marlowe’s second case seems even more straightforward. A well-dressed ne’er-do-well named Lindsay Marriott wants Marlowe to accompany him on a midnight rendezvous to buy back a lady friend’s stolen jade necklace. Unfortunately, the plan goes awry when Marlowe is knocked unconscious and awakes to find a pummeled dead body.

Dick Powell and Claire Trevor.

Powell’s dynamic performance anchors the film, but he also benefits from some classic Chandler dialogue (often spoken in voiceover as Marlowe recounts his story to the police). When Marlowe finds a dead body, he quips: “He was just snapped—the way a pretty girl would snap a stalk of celery.” Velma’s sleazy former employer is described as “a charming, middle-aged lady with a face like a bucket of mud.”

Edward Dmytryk was a promising director with a thin resume when he made Murder, My Sweet and he put his all into the film. The pacing is swift, the atmosphere is appropriately sordid, and the visuals are stylish (e.g., when Marlowe is knocked unconscious, a black pool swallows up the frame). I met Dmytryk when he gave a guest lecture at Indiana University in the late 1970s. He wouldn’t have mentioned Murder, My Sweet if I hadn’t asked a question about it. Most of his lecture centered on the years he was blacklisted  during the McCarthy era.

Murder, My Sweet holds up remarkably well as a classic film noir. It also marked a turning point in Powell’s career. He followed it with the compelling, brutal Cornered and established himself as a dramatic actor. He went on to be become a successful film director and a television pioneer when he co-founded Four Star Studios in the 1950s.

For the record, while Murder, My Sweet was the first Marlowe movie, the novel Farewell, My Lovely was adapted earlier as the "B" picture The Falcon Takes Over (1942). Philip Marlowe was nowhere in sight in this version. Instead, George Sanders starred as the debonair Gay Lawrence, who takes on Moose Malloy's case.

Family Discord in Edward Dmytryk's "Broken Lance"

The 1954 Western Broken Lance is a curious film that is both overly familiar and more nuanced than it first appears.

Father Tracy and sons Holliman, O'Brien, Widmark, and Wagner.

The plot focuses on the friction between cattle baron Spencer Tracy and three of his four sons (Richard Widmark, Hugh O'Brien, and Earl Holliman). It'd be easy to paint the brotherly trio as the film's villains and youngest son Robert Wagner as the hero. But the reality is that Richard Widmark's bitter son is smarter than his father; he understands the necessity for change and embraces it. His father, meanwhile, adheres to doing business the same way as usual--by bulldozing his way through all obstacles.

Wagner (sporting a Fabian hair-do) and Tracy.

Adding to the family discord, Tracy favors youngest son Robert Wagner with the fatherly affection he denied the other three. They grew up as he was building his empire. They toiled alongside their then-widowed father from an early age, rarely earning even a word of praise. Thus, their acrimony is understandable to an extent and it's hard to fault them when they take advantage of their father's folly.

As for their younger sibling, he has his heart in the right place. However, he is also too eager to play the hero. When Wagner's character rashly takes the blame for his father's actions and winds up in prison, it's hard to feel sorry for him. He also seems too eager to play the martyr willing to take the punishment for his dead old dad.

Edward G. Robinson in House of Strangers.

Yet, while the family relationships hold one's attention for awhile, Broken Lance can't overcome a pervasive feeling of familiarity. Perhaps, that's because you've seen House of Strangers, a 1949 film noir written by Philip Yordan and starring Edward G. Robinson as the headstrong family patriarch and Richard Conte as the good brother.

Just five years later, Yordan transplanted the same plot to the Old West and won an Oscar for Best Writing, Motion Picture Story, for Broken Lance. Yes, he won an Oscar for a writing a story based on a screenplay written for a previous film! This gets even more interesting, because some reliable sources consider both films to be adapted from Jerome Weidman's 1941 novel I'll Never Go There Anymore. Of course, one could also argue the influence of Shakespeare's King Lear.

Tracy and Katy Jurado.

The strong cast--which also includes Jean Peters and Katy Jurado--fails to inject much-needed excitement. Spencer Tracy could play a take-charge cattle baron in his sleep. As his wife--the calm voice of reason--Jurado earned an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress.

Director Edward Dmytryk, whom I tend to associate with film noir (e.g., Cornered) and tight dramas, sets the action against some breathtaking vistas. He teamed with Tracy and Wagner again two years later for The Mountain.

This was his sixth film following his return to the U.S. in 1951 after four years overseas. He left the country after refusing to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) as one of the "Hollywood Ten." When Dmytryk returned to the States, he was arrested and served six months in a West Virginia prison before agreeing to name names before the HUAC in 1951. In his 1996 book Odd Man Out: A Memoir of the Holywood Ten, he explains his change of heart about testifying: "[If] I were going to be a martyr, I wanted the privilege of choosing my martyrdom. . . ."

I met Dmytryk in the late 1970s when he gave a guest lecture at Indiana University. He signed his name alongside the entry about him in my copy of The Filmgoer's Companion.

This post is part of the Classic Movie Blog Association's Banned and Blacklisted Blogathon. Check out all the entries on the blogathon schedule by clicking here.

The Falcon Goes on a Date...and then Strikes Back!

George Sanders as The Falcon.

A Date With the Falcon (1942) is a direct sequel to the series' first film, The Gay Falcon, with Wendy Barrie returning as Gay Lawrence's fiancée. She wants to whisk the Falcon away to get married. Instead, the debonair adventurer gets involved with an investigation into a missing scientist who has invented a near-perfect synthetic diamond. In fact, almost no one can tell the difference--which could be devastating for the jewelry industry.

The Falcon movies, which starred George Sanders and later his brother Tom Conway, were consistently entertaining "B" detective movies. Sometimes, the "comic relief" (typically provided by the Falcon's crony Goldy Locke) was a bit excessive. However, Sanders and Conway always found a way to elevate these fast-paced programmers above the likes of Charlie Chan, Boston Blackie, and Michael Shayne. Certainly, the brothers were charming on screen and seemed to define the word "suave." But I think their true secret was that they looked like they were having fun--and invited the audience to have fun with them.

A Date With the Falcon is a solid entry in the series, though I do find it silly that the writers decided the Falcon should get engaged. Sanders flirts with every woman in sight, inspiring a flower girl to quip: "He's much too nice and undependable to be taken out of circulation." There was no fiancée in sight when Gay Lawrence returned in The Falcon Takes Over, an unusual reworking of Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe novel Farewell My Lovely.

Tom Conway as The Falcon's brother.

When George Sanders moved on to bigger roles, RKO casts his real-life brother as Gay Lawrence's brother Tom. The transition was effected rather cleverly in the appropriately-titled The Falcon's Brother (1942). Conway's first solo outing is one of the best in the series, The Falcon Strikes Back (1943).

It opens with Tom Lawrence recovering from a hangover, only to be visited by a beautiful mysterious woman (Rita Corday) that wants him to find her missing brother. Lawrence's search leads to a cocktail bar when he's knocked unconscious. He awakens in the backseat of his convertible and quickly discovers he's been framed for the murder of a bank messenger and the theft of $250,000 in war bonds. When he returns to the cocktail bar, it's now the home of the Volunteer Knitters of America!

Harriet Nelson and Tom Conway.

Lawrence's investigation leads him to the Pinecrest resort hotel, where he encounters more murder, a bizarre puppeteer, and Harriet Nelson from Ozzie and Harriet fame. Who could ask for more?

I've always preferred Tom Conway as the Falcon, perhaps because he seems tougher than George Sanders. The Falcon Strikes Back is an enjoyable series' outing with the added distinction of being directed by Edward Dmytryk one year before Murder, My Sweet cemented his reputation.

Don't you love the irony? An earlier Falcon movie was based on Farewell, My Lovely, which was adapted again in 1944 as Murder, My Sweet. The director of that movie? Edward Dmytryk.

Dick Powell Portrays a Man Consumed by Vengeance in the Film Noir Classic "Cornered"

Warning: This review contains plot spoilers.

This sharp, downbeat post-World War II revenge tale reteamed director Edward Dmytryk and star Dick Powell, who had scored a hit with the previous year's better-known Murder, My Sweet. That film, adapted from Raymond Chandler's Farewell My Lovely, transformed Powell from a musical-comedy leading man into a wisecracking, cynical private detective. While that film evolved into a genre classic, the lesser-known Cornered has garnered the attention of film noir fans who recognized it a thematic predecessor to lavishly-praised movies like The Third Man.

Powell plays another world-weary character on the trail of a murderer in Cornered. As Lieutenant Laurence Gerard, he provides an intense portrait of an unstable man whose war scars and pent-up grief have eaten away the normalcy in his life. The only thing that keeps him alive is his obsession to avenge his wife's death.

The opening scenes are filled with background information. We quickly learn that pilot Gerard was shot down over France during the war. After being rescued by Resistance fighters, he married a local girl named Celeste. The couple was forced to part after 20 days of happiness--he subsequently became a prisoner of war and she was executed by a French fascist leader named Marcel Jarnac (Luther Adler).

After the war, the discharged Gerard returns to the ruins of his wife's village. Celeste's father tells Gerard that Jarnac is officially listed as deceased. But he believes that the ruthless killer, whom none of the villagers ever saw, staged his death and escaped. Gerard, his emotional emptiness temporarily replaced with vengeance, begins his relentless quest for Jarnac.

Dick Powell as Gerard.

He ingeniously tracks the "dead" man's widow to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and finds a city populated by opportunists, European castaways, war criminals, and a handful of people seeking to expose the lingering threat of fascism. This latter group tries to get Gerard to join them in exposing Jarnac, but he insists on setting his own trap. Unfortunately, Gerard's plans backfire and he finds himself at the opposite end of the fascist leader's pistol in an abandoned dock warehouse. But before Jarnac can kill his adversary, Gerard attacks him and beats him viciously. When the anti-fascist group arrives at the scene, it finds a disoriented Gerard rambling about how he could have killed Jarnac, but didn't. However, a quick examination of the body reveals that Gerard literally beat Jarnac to death with his bare hands. The anti-fascists encourage Gerard to escape, but he chooses to face criminal charges and provide the means for exposing other war criminals in Argentina.

The brutality of the ending is unexpected for an American film of the 1940s. After all, Gerard executes Jarnac without a trial by punching him repeatedly in the head. Screenwriter John Paxton tries to justify Gerard's act by showing Jarnac's ruthlessness in the same scene. After killing a former accomplice, Jarnac shoots the man six more times and remarks casually: "That face will be difficult to recognize now." Dmytryk also softens the impact of Gerard's brutality by dissolving from the beating to a shot of the emotionally-unbalanced Gerard holding his head in his hands--completely unaware of the deadly nature of his act of violence.

Writer Paxton and actor Powell create a convincing character in Gerard, although the occasional wisecracks seem more appropriate for a private eye than a revenge-minded husband. Still, for the most part, the script provides Powell with strong material. When an attractive woman shows an unsubtle interest in Gerard, he tells her about his wife: "I can't remember exactly what she looked like. War does something to your memory. You forget the way people look and remember the important things. That kind of remembering keeps you warm on cold nights."

Powell and Walter Slezak.

Powell receives excellent support from Walter Slezak, perfectly cast as Melchoir Incza, who introduces himself as a "professional guide" (though he adds: "Not a tourist guide in the strictest sense"). Slezak employs craftiness and charm to keep the true nature of his opportunistic character unknown for most of his screen time.

Cornered holds up surprisingly well today, working as both a tense revengeful tale and a reminder of the painful healing which was necessary following World War II (making it similar, in that sense, to The Third Man). It's a shame that Powell, Slezak and Dmytryk did not team up for another film. But just two years later, Dmytryk was called before the House Committee on Un-American Activities and branded as one of the "Hollywood Ten"--a label which caused him to flee the U.S. for Great Britain. Ironically, that same year, he received an Oscar nomination for directing Crossfire.