Nei bassifondi di Los Angeles

With Cry Danger, Dick Powell said good bye to the noir genre that had served him well since his electrifying Philip Marlowe in Murder My Sweet. Hard to believe the applecheeked tenor of all those sappy Warner Brothers musicals was the tough guy in some of the best noir films ever done. His few remaining films were not noir and pretty soon Powell was strictly on the small screen.

Powell in this case is a bookie who was sent up for a robbery that he didn't commit. He's out now due to an alibi provided by Richard Erdman who says Powell had been drinking with him the night the robbery had taken place.

With five years of his life taken from him, Powell's out to find who framed him and he hunts with only the determination Dick Powell can muster. He nearly gets framed again when he's given some of the hot money from the robbery to make a bet.

Usually in noir films, cops are usually a bit on the slow side unless the protagonist is a cop. Regis Toomey who plays the cop who arrested Powell five years before is an exception. He has Powell trailed from the moment he leaves prison and that pays off for him and for Powell.

This is a nicely done crisp little crime thriller. Good photography of the seamy side of Los Angeles, especially the trailer park where Powell is residing with Erdman, Rhonda Fleming who's the wife of his partner who's still in prison and Erdman's gal Jean Porter. The trailer park is pretty seedy, but with Rhonda Fleming there it does have its compensations.