Violence

The movie has veterans of WWII being recruited to be part of a group that will use violence to accomplish the goals of bigger men. A young go-getter female reporter infiltrates it. Very early plot twist: on the way back to Chicago to file her stories, she gets in a motor vehicle accident, her typed-out stories are burned up in the car fire, and she gets amnesia. Dun-dun-duhhh....

Nancy Coleman is convincing as the reporter who is distressed about her loss of memory, although she rubs her temple too many times. Steve Fuller, who surely must have got his start as Kirk Douglas's stand-in, is a convincing male lead here, but he's clearly in support of Coleman.

It's gritty, adult fare for 1947. It might not be splattered-blood Bonnie & Clyde violence but sometimes implied violence is actually more dramatic.

At one of the rallies - these are all recently released WWII vets, remember - one guy stands up and gives a highly unlikely w0kified speech right out of 2024 about how "hate and violence alone won't solve any of our problems." He is quickly ushered out.

There are some unlikely plot twists that rely on characters making very bad decisions or things that happen a bit too conveniently to keep the running time tight and the sh00ting schedule on budget.

But it's an entertaining way to spend 90 minutes just the same.

There's enough meat to this plot that good writers with a respectable budget could churn out an excellent first season of a short-run prestige-cable show. Of course, the reporter would be a bl3ck tr2ns-g3nd3r and the underground club would all wear red baseball caps.

Which brings me to Eddie Muller's presentation of this movie on April 7, 2024. He suggested that movies such as Violence might have "inspired the House Un-American Activities Committee to launch investigations into 'purported' (here he gives an ironic hand wave) communist influences in Hollywood." It's well established by now that Hollywood (and Washington) were completely infiltrated by commies, as they are today. One's credibility takes a big hit to pretend otherwise. I expect better from Muller.

Don't go w0ke, TCM. Cause you know what rhymes with w0ke.

Much of the team that made Monogram's Decoy of the year before such a startling little thriller re-upped for the same studio's Violence: Director Jack Bernhard, co-scripter Stanley Rubin, composer Edward J. Kay, heavy Sheldon Leonard (the second-string Raymond Burr, who, like Burr, would find his fortune in television). Lightning, alas, failed to strike twice, so Violence remains a typically flawed Poverty-Row production.

In the basement of the Los Angeles headquarters of the United Defenders – a pseudo-populist scam organization to fleece angry veterans – a young recruit who stumbled onto the truth meets his unpleasant end. (This crypto-Fascist group has affinities with The Black Legion of a decade earlier.) Upstairs, however, the forced cheeriness prevails, with the head of this personality cult (`True' Dawson, played by Emory Parnell) bidding his loyal secretary (Nancy Coleman) goodbye as she leaves for a vacation to Chicago. Little does he suspect that Coleman is an investigative reporter working undercover on an exposé of the racket, which will hit the streets as soon as she's safe in the Windy City. Leonard, one of his lieutenants, does have his suspicions about, as well as unresolved feelings for, Coleman, but can't find the evidence, so off she goes.

In Chicago en route to her magazine's offices, Coleman's cab crashes trying to elude a mysterious pursuer (Milo O'Shea). Hospitalized, Coleman wakes to find herself in a state of amnesia (of the trickiest sort: She remembers things that are convenient to advancing the story but forgets everything else). Back on the coast, she has no memory of her journalistic scoop and so thinks herself a loyal soldier for the United Defenders; she also believes she's engaged to O'Shea, because he told her so. And the plot lumbers on, with the murdered man's widow showing up to find him, and an all-powerful `Mr. X' looming darkly behind the whole operation....

Violence is riddled with holes and implausibilities (of the type that, in today's Hollywood, would all but guarantee a blockbuster). Rather transparently, it draws on themes and issues that sparked the early years of the noir cycle: The dissatisfaction of returning veterans and post-war labor strife (and might the demagogue's name `True' be an echo of then-president Harry S Truman's?). But the topical references prove no more than gimmicks for a quick-and-dirty production that has little coherence or resonance.

Reporter Ann Dwire is undercover in a neo-fascist group as the secretary to the leader, True Dawson. They are recruiting disgruntled veterans returning from the war. She is ready to escape to report her findings to her Chicago newspaper but group member Fred Stalk is suspicious. Her cab is being pursued and ends up in a crash. She is left with amnesia and everything else burnt up in the fire. She recalls her fake identity Ann Mason. She returns to her fake job and speaking in support of the movement.

The premise is good but the execution is weak. There is good violent plot but it falters on execution. Lead actress Nancy Coleman is fine. It's mostly in the weak production and direction. I do like the general premise but this is not good.

This 1947 Poverty Row film noir about some racketeers organizing returning vets into strong-arm squads has an awful score of overwrought music from Edward J. Kay. Nancy Coleman is investigating the organization, but comes down with amnesia.

Since we know the set-up before she comes down with memory loss, there's no sense of noirish what-in-hell-is-going-on suspense. It all comes down to a cozy non-mystery shot on small sets with occasional bouts of rear projection, punctuated by loud, frantic musical stings. Besides Coleman, we get Sidney Sheldon, Michael O'Shea and Emory Parnell.

There's a corruption plot here, and in almost every movie with a corruption plot, it is the dogooder politician behind the corruption. I'm not giving any secrets here. This movie is markedly different for some reason. My suspicion is they either ran out of film, money or time and had to wrap it up.

With peter whitney as the joker (no it's not set in gotham city) and sheldon leonard (no, he's not telling anyone which elevator or railroad train to take), the stage is set for a great reveal at the end of mr x's identity (no it's not elon musk or pierre watkin), but then the story just ends and michael o'shea goes off with the cute muckraking reporter. Also featured in here, as a doctor, was john (no he's not telling the copyboy don't call me chief) hamilton, a star on early tv. The most important thing in this movie is it prepared us for a corrupt, much bankrupted businessman to make a lot of noise about cleaning out the swamp, so to speak, while corrupting it himself.