A Cry in the Night

A brilliant performance by Raymond Burr as a mentally-challenged man who feels stifled by his mother makes "A Cry in the Night" a good watch. The film also stars Brian Donlevy and Edmund O'Brien.

Natalie Wood plays Elizabeth, the teenaged daughter of police Captain Taggart (O'Brien) involved with Owen (Anderson) - the two of them are together in a lovers' lane when Owen sees someone watching them. He gives chase and gets knocked out for his trouble. The voyeur, Harold Loftus (Burr) kidnaps Elizabeth.

Anyone who's watched the news or the ID channel knows that as kidnappings go, this was pretty benign. We also know a little bit more about how to handle a kidnapper - Elizabeth finally catches on and tries to befriend him. Meanwhile, her hot-tempered father is frantically looking for her and comes up against Harold's overprotective mother (Carol Veazie).

Burr is just the saddest character in this, it's heartbreaking. Natalie is very pretty and, as we have seen in other films, good at histrionics.

Since it was made in 1956, the film has a few questionable or politically incorrect moments, like when a fellow lovers' lane person hears Elizabeth screams and says, "Slap her again. They like it." And there's the subplot of Taggart's sister still unmarried because her brother broke them up - apparently she didn't care how lousy he was since he was breathing. And Elizabeth's mother tells her husband "not to scare away" the one Elizabeth has on the hook.

Schools today sometimes ban these politically incorrect films - ones that are much more blatant than this. I think it's a great idea for new generations to see them and understand how women were thought of and what was important to them - husbands.

See if for Burr's striking performance.

When Raymond Burr's face (grotesquely lighted by John F. Seitz) looms out of the shrubbery at Lovers' Loop, he adds A Cry in the Night to his long string of films in which he cemented his reputation as the noir cycle's most indispensable and unforgettable creep. He's prowling the petting grounds looking for a girl, and doesn't care how he gets her. Assaulting the male half (Richard Anderson) of a necking couple, he kidnaps the other (Natalie Wood), spiriting her off to a den he's fixed up in an abandoned brickyard. This time, though, there's a catch to Burr's villainy: He's a dim-witted hulk, a childish monster akin to Lennie in Of Mice And Men.

The police mistake the dazed Anderson for a drunk and lock him up. Only when a doctor suspects concussion does his story emerge, leading captain Brian Donleavy to mobilize a dragnet for Wood and her abductor. As it happens, Wood's father (Edmond O'Brien) is one of their own, a hot-headed, rigid cop out for blood - he throws a punch at the already reeling Anderson. Meanwhile Burr plies Wood with apricot pie and sequined gowns, as she desperately tries to flee. A break in the case comes when Burr's mother calls in to report her 32-year-old son missing....

Along with Burr, A Cry in the Night unites stalwarts of the cycle Donleavy and O'Brien; even the familiar voice in the opening narration belongs to Alan Ladd, who appeared in this director Frank Tuttle's This Gun For Hire 14 years earlier. The movie stays a pretty standard police procedural, albeit with a few intriguing touches. It offers as subtexts some period glimpses into dysfunctional parenting. His spinster sister, another victim of his vigilance against beaux come a-couring, accuses the overprotective O'Brien of driving Wood to Lovers' Loop and hence to peril.

Even less wholesome is Carol Veazie as Burr's doting, sweet-toothed mother. Managing simultaneously to suggest Dame Judith Anderson, Jean Stapleton and Doris Roberts, she shuffles around drinking coffee in her horse-blanket bathrobe, whining about that missing slice of apricot pie. Nineteen-fifty-six, some may recall, was the high-water mark of a national panic about `Momism,' a threat deemed scarcely less perilous to the republic than the international Communist conspiracy; Veazie endures as one of its most formidable operatives (her successors would include the unseen Mrs. Bates in Psycho, Angela Lansbury's Mrs. Iselin in The Manchurian Candidate, and Marjorie Bennet's Dehlia Flagg in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?).

Early in the movie, before the tight walls of his world come tumbling down, O'Brien pours himself a beer and waits for the nightly movie on TV. When it starts, he sighs, `Another one of those cop pictures,' and switches it off. There he was, in the Indian Summer of the noir cycle, and couldn't care less. Couldn't he have forseen that, almost 50 years later, there would be an avid audience for those cop pictures - even the ones starring him?

Edmund O'Brien is one of my favorite actors. He was able to play cynical and he was able to play tough. And, with his rather ugly mug, he was the perfect film noir hero or anti-hero. However, "A Cry in the Night" is the rarest of films--an Edmund O'Brien film that I did not particularly like--or at least his character. He was, in my opinion, the weakest link in the film.

The film begins with two young lovers (Richard Anderson and Natalie Wood) out at lover's lane when they notice some strange man lurking in the bushes--staring at them. Anderson goes to see who this guy is and sees a much larger and very crazy Raymond Burr--who proceeds to beak the stuffing out of Anderson. And, following this attack, Burr e kidnaps Wood and drags her away to his secret lair. His motivation and character, though not realistic, is pretty cool--and fun to watch unfold throughout the film.

Naturally, the police eventually get involved--especially since Wood turns out to be the daughter of tough cop O'Brien. But, as he's not on duty and this crime strikes close to home, Brian Donlevy plays the detective who is in charge of the case--and I liked his character. But O'Brien--what a rather one-dimensional and annoying guy. He is, at times, almost cartoon-like--with his snarling and growling...and not acting the least bit like a professional. He is, to put it bluntly, pretty annoying.

Overall, the film has some interesting moments and is worth seeing--just don't expect a particularly inspired movie. For fans of noir or O'Brien, it's worth seeing---for all others, it's just a time-passer.

Policeman (Edmond O'Brien) hunts down the hulking brute (Raymond Burr) who kidnapped his teenage daughter (Natalie Wood). Had potential to be a sleazy thriller but doesn't live up to it. As for the acting, the special of the day is ham. Raymond Burr channeling Lenny from "Of Mice and Men" will elicit laughter from most viewers. Carol Veazie as his trashy mom is fun to watch. Overweight Edmond O'Brien's turn as the hot-headed thuggish overprotective father is impossible to stop watching. Seems like every scene he has he's grabbing someone and yelling at them. It's not good acting but the movie is much more intriguing when he's on screen. Brian Donlevy spends most of the movie telling his pal O'Brien to go home. For her part, Natalie Wood is lovely to look at and handles herself fine in a weak role. Herb Vigran is good as the comic relief desk sergeant. Somewhat interesting for its glimpse at 1950s' attitudes towards sex, parenting, and mental illness. Ultimately can't be taken seriously enough to work as a thriller and it's not quite over-the-top enough to work as camp. Watchable but nothing special.

Policeman's daughter, out on Lovers' Loop late one night with her secret boyfriend, is kidnapped by a somewhat simple-minded behemoth with a mommy-complex. Curiously old-fashioned and corny bit of police business masquerading as a gritty noir (and advertised as a juvenile delinquent flick: "18...A nice girl...How did she fall so far?"). As the lonely, tormented abductor, Raymond Burr actually manages a thoughtful performance, however this case is wrapped up so quickly (with the movie clocking in at a scant 75 minutes) that neither Burr nor victim Natalie Wood has a chance at carving out a three-dimensional character. Wood, who faints from a slap across the face, is made to be the stereotypical weak female, while over-protective father Edmond O'Brien and police captain Brian Donlevy overact mercilessly. Poor screenplay, by David Dortort--adapting a book by Whit Masterson, the uncredited "All Through the Night"--doesn't seem to know much about police procedures or personalities, and the sequences set at the station are hopelessly mediocre (what with an eyeball-rolling desk sergeant and a hilariously overeager police psychiatrist). Though distributed by Warner Bros., this doesn't have the solid production values usually associated with the studio; it feels cheap and under-populated, like an early episode of "Dragnet", with only Burr's forceful work and a decent climax putting it above typical television fare. ** from ****