Trapped

This is a fine, dark, nasty little movie. It's very well directed by Richard Fleischer. It takes place in a scary night town version of San Francisco.

Lloyd Bridges plays a character with the unusual first name Tris. Short for Tristan, I suppose. Real-life bad-girl Barbara Payton is no Isolde. Payton is good as his romantic interest, though.

The film begins with a scene in which someone is discovered to have counterfeit money. Bridges is in prison but is tapped by the Feds to help break up the counterfeiting ring. And it takes off from there.

There are double-crosses, confused identities. The supporting cast is excellent. Crime may not pay but we have some pretty interesting criminals in this story.

TRAPPED is a very good example of the documentary- styled noir film. Lloyd Bridges gives an energetic performance as a greedy and cunning counterfeiter whose brains are not equal to his ambitions. The film also features tragic sex bomb Barbara Payton in her first major role and she also scores as a somewhat naive, yet ruthless, partner to Bridges. Richard Fleischer directs with his usual stylishness and the look of the film will satisfy the diehard noir fan. Very enjoyable.

This is not a film noir per se, though it has some nourish undercurrents and atmosphere. It is a bit of a downer because the lead is a scoundrel, his girl friend is a dolt, and there is not really anyone to admire. Lloyd Bridges plays the lead, and is more or less convincing, though hardly brilliant. But then the part gave him little scope anyway. The dame is Barbara Payton, who is not particularly enthralling. Payton had a terribly tragic life, dying at the age of only 39, after episodes of drug addiction, shop-lifting, and other symptoms of someone who was pretty totally messed-up. This film contains two remarkable and interesting film sequences, both shot on location. The first is inside the US Treasury in Washington, showing money being designed, processed and printed. (No mention of the Federal Reserve, so this is a bit puzzling.) The other is inside the large Los Angeles streetcar depot, where a dramatic chase and shootout take place. Streetcars must have been phased out not long afterwards, so this is rare footage. Bridges plays a jailed counterfeiter who is let out on condition that he exposes the people who are now 'using his plates' to print twenty dollar bills. A bewildering series of double-crosses and turning of tables takes place, all keeping one's attention, what with cops pretending to be crooks, and no one really knowing who is straight and who is not. John Hoyt is in this picture, as he was in so many others. He was a very nice man and did me a big favour when I was young. I was introduced to him by my very good aged friend of those days, Homer Croy, who wrote the Will Rogers movies, as Homer and Hoyt were old chums. Hoyt really did go out of his way to help people and was such a personable and pleasant person. I remember he wore a bow tie and was concerned to look smartly dressed. When I met him I had no idea of his film career, since there were no videos or DVDs in those days and hence no way to see old movies. Homer told me he was a well-known actor, but I had never heard of him at that time, since once a movie was out of the cinemas, it was gone gone gone. Even the stars rarely had cans of 35 mm of their finest work. Everything just disappeared into the vaults of the majors. I'm glad this film is no longer trapped in the vaults, despite its title. It was ably directed by Dick Fleischer and belongs in the canon along with the others.

Ordinarily you'd expect Lloyd Bridges to be tracking down perennial villain John Hoyt. But here the usual roles are reversed-- Hoyt's the government agent and Bridges the small time hood. The movie itself is pretty typical of the docu-dramas of the period. It's the Treasury Department's turn to get the Hollywood treatment with the usual glowing introduction and stentorian narration. Though, like the stellar docu-drama T-Men (1947), the docu part soon gives way to big city noir. However, this film lacks importantly the former's grotesque air of nerve-wracking suspense.

Director Fleischer and the writers manage a couple of nice twists, particularly at the beginning. Nonetheless, the script makes a basic error in switching the action from Stewart (Bridges) to Sylvester (James Todd) in the climactic part. (Was Bridges taken ill or otherwise made unavailable.) Unfortunately, Todd simply lacks the screen presence to intimidate an audience or make us loathe him, whereas Bridges can snarl and menace with the best of them. Thus the last third fails to generate the kind of mounting dread required of an A-grade suspenser. Then too, Hoyt's basically cold demeanor and cruel looks don't arouse much natural sympathy that would encourage you to identify with him. Thus, the suspense is further weakened by what should be an emotional interest in the treasury agent's fate. The casting here really is a departure from the expected and to the movie's detriment.

Note how the culminating shootout takes place at an industrial site-- the overnight barn for LA's late, lamented trolley system, where we get a look at what could have eased LA's horrendous traffic problem. Actually, industrial sites crop up in the climax of a number of crime dramas of the period-- White Heat (1949), 7-11 Ocean Drive (1950), Union Station (1950), et al. I guess producers of the time figured running around big machines and shooting at each other would make for colorful audience excitement. Of course, the movie's also notable for the presence of notorious Hollywood bad-girl Barbara Payton, who was involved in several tawdry Hollywood scrapes and apparently ended her brief life as something of a cut-rate call girl ("Hollywood Babylon"). Whatever the direction of her private life, she's quite good here as Bridges' shapely blonde moll.

Anyway, for its type, the movie's average at best.

Counterfeiting obviously exercised the authories greatly during the postwar period, since it's here the subject of yet another crime film. Director Richard Fleischer further enhanced his burgeoning career with this astringent, sometimes eye-wateringly violent little potboiler dramatising the problem extensively shot on location in the days when Lloyd Bridges was playing "cheap, penny-antsy grifters".