Schakale der Unterwelt

Shades of the 1930's. It's Robinson and Warner Bros. in b&w, except Eddie's not a thug, instead he's an ex-DA turned gangland lawyer. Seems that as a prosecutor, he got the wrong man electrocuted. Now he's drinking and looking for the big money. Probably, there's an element of self-loathing, explaining why he goes over to the dark side. So, being a Code governed production, some final expiation is in order. On the whole, it's a good script by crime master WR Burnett, though I'm not sure I buy Ray and Ellen's showdown.

Even if he's a ripe 62, Robinson's lost none of his trademark self-assurance. He's as masterful here as a shady attorney as he was back in his gangster salad days. Then too, I'm really glad to see Ellen Corbett (Miss Hinkel) get a bigger role than her usual cleaning lady drudge, while underrated Jan Merlin does his icy bit as hit-man Andy. I'm just sorry we don't get close-ups of Merlin who could sneer with the best of them. Add the commanding Albert Dekker as boss Garland, and a warmer-than-usual Nina Foch as conflicted Ellen, and it's a superb lineup of cast principals. And, oh yes, mustn't overlook an exaggerated Mansfield. I guess her busty blonde was the movie's big concession to 50's fads.

The film may be a b&w throwback, at a time when the screen was turning wide and to color. Nonetheless, the movie succeeds in a way that I think movies are supposed to, namely, as engrossing entertainment, with a number of plot twists.

Illegal puts Edward G. Robinson through more perils than Pauline ever suffered. A tenacious District Attorney on his way to the governor's mansion, he resigns when a man he had sent to the electric chair proves innocent. But the civil practice he hopes to undertake goes bust, and he takes to the bottle (a plot development which goes nowhere).

Down and out, he defends a fellow inmate he encounters in a holding cell, and decides to apply his legal acumen to becoming a sharp, high-priced criminal attorney. To get off a guilty client, he grandstands in court by downing a bottle of poison placed in evidence, only to rush off to have his stomach pumped. (This particular ploy was originated by George Brent in 1940's The Man Who Talked Too Much.) He's such a brilliant mouthpiece he comes to the attention of civic crime boss Albert Dekker, whose blandishments he tries to resist.

Meanwhile, back at the D.A.'s office, he's left behind his protégé Nina Foch (looking matronly), whom he had taken under his wing when her father, an old mentor of his, passed away. Though he harbors romantic feelings for her, he gives his blessing when she announces her marriage to a young, ambitious lawyer, Hugh Marlowe. But a series of leaks from the office concerning Dekker's activities brings suspicion on all three. Ultimately, Robinson finds himself defending Foch for murder, during which Jayne Mansfield, Dekker's mistress, sashays to the witness stand in a wasp-waisted black outfit, replete with picture hat.....

The fast and too complicated plot takes a few pointless and baffling turns. Though on the talky side, there's a high quotient of gunplay. Still, it's absorbing. Robinson, still in his early-50s string of B-pictures owing to his guilt-by-association in the wake of the anti-Communist crusade, holds everything together with his bag of old tricks. And credit must go also to director Lewis Allen, who somehow brought a distinctiveness to several of his films which otherwise might have passed unnoticed: Desert Fury, Chicago Deadline, Suddenly. It's hard to point out just how, but he brought some of it to Illegal, too.

A remake of Warner's "The Mouthpiece" (1932) "Illegal" is a substantial half forgotten Noir! Directed for Warners in 1955 by Englishman Lewis Allen it stars Edward G. Robinson as a highly accomplished prosecuting attorney who becomes disillusioned when he learns that the man he was responsible for sending to the electric chair (a young DeForest Kelly) has finally been exonerated and found to be innocent after all. With his reputation now in tatters he hits the bottle ending up on skid row. But he slowly picks himself up from the gutter becomes a defence lawyer and a "fixer" for racketeer Albert Dekker. Robinson is terrific in it! His screen presence - with that soft spoken matter of fact acting style - is altogether appealing. This, after "Key Largo" (1948) was his first picture for the studio since his contract ended with them in 1942. And while not being an overly auspicious return it wasn't a bad one either. Others in the cast are Nina Foch, Hugh Marlowe and making her debut , as Dekker's moll, the voluptuous Jayne Mansfield with the dubious moniker Angel O'Hara (Dekker auditioning her as she plays the piano glibly declares to Robinson "interesting girl - lives and breaths music!"). A fairly engaging movie, nicely written and sharply photographed in monochrome by Perverell Marley. The studio's legendary composer Max Steiner provides an attractive score which gives the movie an agreeable pace.

"Illegal" is the second feature on this excellent DVD that also features RKO's enjoyable Mitchum Noir "The Big Steal" (1949). A splendid package this fine double bill comes with trailers and commentaries for both movies plus a featurette. Interestingly the commentary on "Illegal" is spoken by the film's leading lady Nina Foch (she pronounces it Fash) who informs us that she now teaches film directing at USC. Not bad for an 84 year old! Also Robinson is interviewed on set by the ill-fated Gig Young where we learn that Robinson loaned some of his prized and valuable paintings from his famous art collection to the studio for use in the picture. They can readily be seen in the movie in Dekker's palatial apartment.

Classic line from "Illegal" - when Robinson warns Dekker not to blame him if the court case goes wrong - Dekker responds "I don't blame people - I bury 'em"!

Due to his brush with HUAC, Edward G. Robinson's career suffered throughout the 1950s; I hadn't watched that much of his work from this period myself – but have now managed to catch two (coincidentally, both semi-noirs made for the same director) in one day.

Though actually the second one, this was the superior effort: in fact, I found it to be quite an underrated genre outing – whose courtroom milieu supplies an added treat; for the record, it was the third screen version of a popular play of the 1920s (the others were THE MOUTHPIECE [1932], the best-regarded one, and THE MAN WHO TALKED TOO MUCH [1940]). Robinson is perfectly in his element here as a crusading D.A. who hits the skids after he sends an innocent man (STAR TREK's DeForrest Kelley!) to the electric chair – trying to pick up the pieces as a common civil lawyer, he falls in with a powerful gangster but is ultimately redeemed (in both senses of the word). At this point, the actor must have relished such a meaty part – particularly one that so vividly recalled some of his earlier vintage work (but most of all BULLETS OR BALLOTS [1936], a Robinson vehicle I watched for the first time only recently and greatly enjoyed, and which also sees him playing on either side of the law).

The play was here adapted for the screen by two notable scriptwriters, W.R. Burnett (author of LITTLE CAESAR [1930], which had made the star's name in the first place) and James R. Webb. The supporting cast is also well chosen: Nina Foch as Robinson's diligent assistant and surrogate daughter, who stays on with the D.A.'s office once the hero is disgraced; Hugh Marlowe as another Robinson aide who loves and subsequently marries Foch; Ellen Corby, one more member of Robinson's staff but who devotedly sticks with her boss; Albert Dekker as the gangster figure; and a debuting Jayne Mansfield as Dekker's 'talented' moll (her role reminded me of Marilyn Monroe's celebrated bit in THE ASPHALT JUNGLE [1950], coincidentally drawn from another popular W.R. Burnett novel).

Eventually, the mole in the D.A.'s office – suspected to be Foch due to her ties with Robinson – is discovered to be Marlowe who, when confronted by Foch, she ends up killing him in self-defense; Robinson defies his boss by taking up her case (protecting himself by secreting evidence that would point the finger at Dekker in the event that something happens to him). Though the film is an atypical noir and contains just one action sequence, Robinson's unconventional courtroom tactics are at least as entertaining and arresting: knocking out a burly witness to a brawl so as to prove his unreliability; drinking a dose of slow-acting poison himself in order to smash the new D.A.'s case against his client (an associate of Dekker's); at the end turning up in court mortally wounded to acquit Foch. By the way, a handful of paintings from Robinson's personal renowned art collection are passed off as Dekker's in the film!

Warners' exemplary DVD – issued as a double-feature, as part of their "Film Noir Collection Vol. 4", with Don Siegel's even better THE BIG STEAL (1949) featuring the great team of Robert Mitchum and Jane Greer – contains the trailer, an Audio Commentary (an extra I used to lap up in the past but haven't listened to one in a long time – chiefly due to time constraints and a huge backlog of films!) as well as two featurettes. One discusses the film proper (all-too briefly) and the other a vintage TV piece in black-and-white, hosted by the ubiquitous Gig Young, about courtroomers produced by Warners (with clips from the Oscar-winning THE LIFE OF EMILE ZOLA [1937] and two 'brand-new' efforts – Otto Preminger's THE COURT-MARTIAL OF BILLY MITCHELL [1955], which I haven't watched, and, of course, ILLEGAL itself with even a brief contribution from Edward G. Robinson).

Illegal (1955)

If a little creaky on the edges, the core of this minor movie is solid as it gets: Edward G. Robinson as a troubled lawyer. It starts fast, gets faster, has some spectacular twists (in the courtroom, apparently based on real legal cases), and ends up being redemptive.

The support cast is the biggest problem here (and probably the direction that is trying to get the most out of them). The story is slightly sensational, and has some clichéd parts (the bad mobster, the crooked D.A., the woman caught in the middle) but it's a lot of fun at the same time. Director Lewis Allen is obscure, and possibly over his head in a fairly complicated movie. The only big name behind the scenes is the impeccable Max Steiner, so the score is terrific.

And Robinson shows how much he can act, again. It's worth it just for him.