Das Haus in der 92. Straße

This is the story of how the FBI supposedly cracked a Nazi espionage ring on the trail of Manhattan Project (the A-Bomb) in the early years of World War II. As a movie, its chief significance is that it kicked off a spate of semi-documentary movies paying tribute to one or another of the U.S. government's law enforcement agencies and celebrating Our Tax Dollars at Work. Such films became a staple of the noir cycle; a few of them even achieved distinction (T-Men, for instance).

William Eythe, a young American, is recruited by and trained in Germany to be a spy; in fact he works as a double agent for the FBI. The film, shot largely on location, traces the actions of the nest of vipers on New York's upper east side. Their unofficial master seems to be Signe Hasso, under cover of running a chic dress boutique. Her opposite number, who runs Eythe, is Lloyd Nolan (who was to reprise his role as Inspector Briggs in subsequent films).

The film's period flavor keeps it from seeming too dated, because the spying looks quite primitive to audiences spoiled by James Bond gimmickry and later, even more sophisticated, espionage thrillers. And, from a modern perspective, the smug boastfulness about the Bureau's -- and America's -- infallibility becomes a bit hard to swallow. There's little texture or nuance in the film, but, as a quasi-historical document, it exerts its own fascination.

The highly gifted natural and trained talent of Lloyd Nolan adorns this story of espionage and counterespionage in the US just prior to and after WWII was declared.

Playing a key FBI agent, Nolan displays the totally convincing work he rendered throughout his career. He heads a strong cast: Signe Hasso and Leo G. Carroll offer solid performances, and William Ethye is a good leading man.

Director Henry Hathaway mixes in authentic newsreel footage with care and balance. The result is a well done docudrama of the mid 40s.

It looks as though 20th Century Fox made a pact with the FBI for this project, with almost the complete Bureau being utilized for the shoot. The films emerges as a supreme tribute to the branch, with Chief Hoover's name frequently in evidence.

The work technically qualifies as propaganda, in which patriotic appreciation and support for the war effort is forthrightly projected.

The House on 92nd Street (1945)

Henry Hathaway has directed some great film noirs (Kiss of Death is indisputably great), but he also didn't mind the dull assignment here and there, as in the competent Call Northside 777 and this one, both revealing American crime detection in action. Yes, this is actually well made, but it has a documentary feel that leaves it in a straitjacket as good crime drama. It's strong stuff, and filled with significance, real Nazi activities on U.S. soil leading to the a-bomb. But you'll see, as soon as the familiar narrator starts to explain the events, that it's a formulaic approach.

To some extent, you can't really watch this without noticing it feels, from the next century (2010 as I write) like propaganda. Not that it isn't honest, it just is filled with uncritical pride. The FBI in particular comes across as flawless and brilliant, and I'm sure it often was, but not quite without complications, nuances, and personal quirks that make the best fiction films take off. This one was made just as World War II was over in Europe, and there was nothing but patriotism in the air, naturally.

I actually like Leo G. Carroll a lot, and he holds up his scenes well, and Swedish actress Signe Hasso is a surprise, strong and sharp (wait until she takes her wig off and transforms in ten seconds). Much of the movie, especially after the first half hour with all its narration and actual documentary footage, has the feel of any well constructed drama and those are the parts, for me, to hook into. Besides, there is a quality here that's really pretty fun--a glimpse into the attitude of 1945 America that isn't the usual brazen, lonely, taut film noir response. Fiction makes for better movie-going, in this case, but here is a watchable quasi-documentary that holds up pretty well, off and on, if you keep expectations in check.

Where in the world did they find hawk-nosed, beady-eyed Lydia St. Clair, the German Gestapo agent. One look from her, and I'd spill my guts in a flash. This is her only movie credit, so I'm guessing she had the same effect on the producers. Speaking of producers, Louis De Rochemont and TCF led the docu-drama trend that greatly influenced post-war crime drama. This is an early entry, and as a model of craftsmanship, there's none better, at least in my view. The location photography, FBI footage, and voice-over narration combine seamlessly with the melodramatic elements supposedly based on fact. Credit much of this to director Hathaway, one of Hollywood's supreme craftsmen.

Sure, the movie sometimes plays like an advertisement for the FBI. But if the data cited is correct, they had a lot to brag about in terms of counter-espionage. Notice, however, no mention is made of the thousands of Japanese-American citizens illegally interned on the West Coast. The Mr. Cristopher charade may be a gimmick, but it does build suspense as we guess the whereabouts of the mastermind. And when the "unveiling" finally comes, I suspect a few 1945 audiences were mildly startled. Seems a stretch to call this a noir since the lighting and atmosphere are naturalistic throughout. Anyway, as a blend of documentary style with story interest, it's hard to beat this tautly efficient little thriller.

In passing—check out the movie's initial release date, barely a month after the first public disclosure of the A-bomb following Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Looks to me like this required some furious re-writing and maybe some changes in Lockhart's role of research professor. No doubt inclusion of the new weapon was used to sell the film to information hungry audiences.

I'm glad one of my favorite movies The House on 92nd Street has been released on DVD and to read the reactions others have made about it. I first saw this movie when it was first released and I was about 11 years old. It made a great impression on me at the time. Of course it is much older now and so am I. My reaction to the revelation of the identity of Mr. Christopher came as an almost physical shock. I should add that at the time this movie came out the war had just ended and the bomb had been dropped only months before, and the radio made much of the nuclear race between Germany and the United States, so the 'now it can be told' aspect of the movie had a lot more meaning then. Also, we weren't very ambivalent about who the good guys and the bad guys were in the war (that didn't happen until Vietnam). I can see that the technology that seemed so cutting edge then is simplistic and dated by today's standards, but that doesn't hurt the movie if you take it in the context of its time. One comment I'd like to make: when Elsa first saw Dietrich's altered credentials she was rightly suspicious and sent for confirmation by courier from Hamburg. In the meantime he continued to operate for what seemed like months and the war started. How long did to get that confirmation anyway? By the way, I've seen the House and it was on 93rd street.