Riffraff

Riffraff finds Pat O'Brien as Dan Hammer, hardboiled private eye, operating in the Canal Zone which when the USA was operating the Panama Canal had a kind of hybrid sovereignty between America and Panama. Of course other than an aerial shot at the beginning of the film, no one got closer to Panama than the backlot of RKO Studios.

I'm not sure if Mickey Spillane had already created his character of Mike Hammer, but O'Brien's portrayal sure could have been the model for it.

O'Brien is hired by someone to locate a missing map of some undiscovered South American oil fields. His client is later murdered and that starts the ball rolling.

A lot of the plot elements of Riffraff are found in that other private eye classic Murder, My Sweet and though Riffraff is entertaining, it doesn't hold a candle to that classic noir.

Anne Jeffreys does well as the singer/moll who actually proves to be quite a bit of help to him in that last encounter with the bad guys. Walter Slezak is as always one charming, but dangerous villain. Jerome Cowan does well as the feckless and luckless oil executive and the best performance in the supporting cast is that of Percy Kilbride as a laconic cabdriver.

In fact Percy's the one who gets the best of Slezak. You should see Riffraff just to see how he does it.

Anne Jeffreys, Pat OBrien, and Walter Slezak star in the search for a missing passenger. The passenger had a map of valuable oil reserves, but didn't land with the plane in Panama. Of course they question the only other passenger, who claims he knows nothing about it. Then they bring in the private eye (OBrien) to figure out what's going on. Expert viewers will recognize Percy Kilbride as "Pop", the taxi driver, who knows more than he should. He was Pa Kettle for MANY years. It's a decent plot, but everyone keeps getting knocked off, and now Dan, the P.I. is running out of clues. The rest of the story is very typical noir... private eye against thugs, private eye against the authorities. Keeps getting into trouble, keeps getting out of it. Obrien pretty much carries the show.

One of the many felicities of Ted Tetzlaff's top-notch Riffraff, the cinematography of George Diskant can be best seen, unencumbered by dialogue, in the first few dazzling minutes. Torrential storms darken an airfield in Peru, where in the dead of night a cargo plane bearing two passengers departs for Panama; only one of them arrives. The opening previews Tetzlaff's pure-cinema approach; he lets the story unfold through images (and occasionally sounds) with a casual adroitness that remains striking more than half a century later.

At the center of the story is Pat O'Brien, a Canal Zone operative-for-hire. The surviving passenger engages him for protection, but doesn't survive for long. Then an oil company hires him to find a map, supposedly with the vanished man, of unclaimed oil fields in Peru. Walter Slezak wants it, too, but through strong-arm tactics. O'Brien, with the help of his driver Percy Kilbride and nightclub singer Anne Jeffreys, sets out in pursuit of the elusive document (which we know from almost the get-go hangs pinned to a screen in his room).

In retrospectives of film noir, Riffraff usually gets overlooked. While its genre is international intrigue and its touch on the light side, its conventions and, especially, its look, bring it to the fringes of the noir cycle. (And it's a better movie than two noirs released the same year which mine similar veins: Calcutta and Singapore.)

Bigger stars like Humphrey Bogart and Alan Ladd monopolized this tough-guy-in-ports-of-call genre, but O'Brien acquits himself honorably. Unfortunately, he was nearing 50 at the time, and his early-middle-age looks probably weren't what post-war audiences were looking for (Bogart, however, was exactly the same age). No matter: the real heroes of Riffraff are Tetzlaff and Diskant, who collaborated to make what Judith Crist used to call a `movie movie.'

I was never taken much by Pat O'Brien, even though he appeared in many good movies since 1930. This is another good one, but not because of Pat O'Brien...

This was the first time I saw Anne Jeffreys, and for her alone it's worth seeing this film: without doubt, Jeffreys is a head-turner and heart-stopper. In reviewing her acting career, it's now clear to me why I have missed seeing her: soon after the early 1950s, she moved into TV for most of her career. And, as I have mostly avoided TV, well, there you go...

Anyway, to the movie...

I guess I'd call this type of story an adventure, a treasure hunt for black gold in the form of a missing map of oil wells in Peru, and a map that various nasty people are all trying to find. The reason for that lost map is finely drawn – on a dark and stormy night (okay, there are a few clichés along the way in this narrative) - with an exquisitely done sequence at the start, as the camera pulls back from a lizard at the edge of airfield in deepest Peru to reveal a waiting DC-3 and a small group of people trying to hear themselves think while the rain pours down on the tin roof of the terminal. Not a word is spoken, natch. Eventually, a passenger arrives to board the plane with another who'd been waiting. The plane leaves, clawing its way into the storm with the passengers sitting with the cargo. During the voyage, however, one of the passengers either jumps or is pushed from the plane – but the other passenger, Hasso (Mark Krah), now has the map...

From that point, you know there's more dirty dealings coming and, after telling his story to the cops, Hasso hires PI Dan Hammer (Pat O'Brien) to act as a bodyguard. Leaving Hasso at the hotel, Hammer visits Gredson (Jerome Cowan) who hires Hammer to find the map that Hasso now has, unbeknown to both. Hasso, being devious, hides the map in plain sight – a delightful ironic touch that's used to good effect throughout the movie, but would have been better, in my opinion, if the viewer had been kept in the dark also.

However...the plot thickens when Molinar (Walter Slezak), another treasure seeker, starts putting the squeeze on Hammer to get the map, and who roughs up Maxine (Anne Jeffreys) while trying to find it in Hammer's office where Maxine had been waiting. Maxine, you see, had wormed her way into Hammer's sight at the club where she sings – not only for herself as a singer, but as a spy for Gredson with whom she is romantically involved. Or is she? That's for Hammer to find out, along the way. Got the picture?

The denouement, of course, is fairly predictable but enlivened by Percy Kilbride as Pop, the taxi driver who shows how easy it is to run circles around unwary and over-confident crooks on the run. The whole movie is further enhanced by the dark/light cinematography that captures the Panama City scene so well (even though it's a Hollywood back-lot); indeed, the highly inventive chase at night between Hammer, on foot, and Molinar in the taxi with Pop, almost leaves you...well, breathless; and wondering whether Carol Reed chose to use the same techniques of dark shadows, narrow streets and running footsteps in The Third Man (1949) when Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton) chases Harry Lime (Orson Welles) in post-war Vienna. The similarity is quite distinctive, even down to some of the skewed close-ups and sharp camera angles.

And, finally, the dialog throughout is just right: sharp, full of innuendo, devious, and witty - and every bit as good as others you've heard in great thrillers and intrigues.

Pat O'Brien does a credible job – as always – but his attempt as a hard-boiled PI and fixer doesn't quite match Robert Mitchum in Out of the Past (1947) or the great Bogie in any one of his fine works from the 1940s or 1950s. However, I was looking at Anne Jeffreys most of the time anyway...

If you get the chance, see this one, for an enjoyable eighty minutes. Recommended for all.

It seems that everyone in Panama has their eyes out for a missing map worth a fortune and P.I./con-man/fixer Dan Hammer (Pat O'Brien) is at the center of everything. Caught between the police, hoodlums, and gorgeous dame, Hammer's got his work cut out for him. But like everyone else, he has no idea where to find the map - even though it's hidden in plain sight.

What a nice surprise! Going in, I had no idea what to expect from Riffraff (or Riff-Raff or Riff Raff or however you want to spell it), but it's truly a wonderful little film. It's got a lot going for it. Frist, the cinematography is fantastic. Riffraff looks way better than its modest budget would suggest. Second, the acting is very strong. Overall, I'm not much of a Pat O'Brien fan, but here, he does a nice job. Anne Jefferys is more than his equal as the blonde love interest. Walter Slezak makes for the perfect heavy. And Percy Kilbride (of Ma and Pa Kettle fame) shines as the comic relief. Third, the direction is spot on. Director Ted Tetzlaff does a remarkable job with the film's nifty pacing. There are very few dull moments to slow things down. And that opening - wow! It must have been a gamble to film the first 10 or so minutes in silence, but it paid off. Finally, the writing is first rate. Riffraff has all that cool, fast-talking dialogue I've come to love in a film noir.

7/10