Schakale der Unterwelt

A bit of far-fetched legal melodrama is anchored by the performance of that old pro Edward G. Robinson.

Robinson plays a renowned attorney with a flair for the theatrical who turns crooked after he finds out a man he sent to the chair was truly innocent and his faith in the system of justice is shaken. He attracts the attention of a crime kingpin because of his skill in winning cases by any means necessary, but he suffers a crisis of conscience when his sort-of surrogate daughter/sort-of love interest (Nina Foch) ends up on trial for a murder she didn't commit that's tied to the activities of the crime boss.

Robinson is terrific as usual. He excelled at roles like this one -- the rogue anti-hero who doesn't play by anyone's rules but his own. You always root for him, even when he's the bad guy.

"Illegal" is packaged as a film noir, but it's not even close to being one, so you might be disappointed if that's what you're expecting. However, if you can get past that, it's a fun, snappy film that has a refreshingly off-kilter unpredictability to it. Three quarters of the way through the film I was still trying to guess where it was headed.

Grade: B+

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" is an intelligent and nimble little crackerjack of a crime thriller starring Edward G. Robinson as a D.A who's maybe a little too smart - and smart-assed - for his own good. He's ruthless because his job requires him to be. He wins cases. That's what he's paid for. He's quick of wit and tongue. He's ambitious, canny and - technically, at least - in compliance with the law. He's, at heart, a good man, and he's in the public eye, but he's not universally well-liked. One day, he sends the wrong man to the chair. And he comes undone.

This sets in motion a plot that winds and twists without becoming outlandish. The picture, which doesn't strike me as a "noir", moves at a nice clip, each of the broad spectrum of characters is painted with a defining brush stroke, and the dialogue is efficient and snappy. It's the kind of movie that hooks you and hooks you good. It did me.

"Illegal" is, above all, an Edward G. Robinson picture. It doesn't seem like a star vehicle. Robinson shares the screen with everyone, yet he is such a forceful presence and creates such a complex and complicated character, sympathetic yet warped, you search him out in every scene. You want to watch him. He's magnetic. I'm becoming a real Edward G. Robinson fan on the strength of his 40's and 50's films alone, some of them comic reminders of his earlier gangster persona. He's as good in this movie as he is in "Scarlet Street", which I saw recently for the first time and which, well... kinda sorta blew my mind. I've lived a little and can recognize the truths that some of these lively, well-written B-movies shine a light on.

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.

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.