Die Nacht der Wahrheit

Joseph Losey on his nightmare years on Hollywood accused of anti-American activities that famous black list, here made a small Noir picture starring the younger Barrymore's clan John Barrymore Jr, playing a teenager who testified his beloved father Andy La Main (Preston Foster) get beat up upon eyes of many customers without any defensive posture, it pulls out entrains of soul, seek revenge through the night against a notorious sportswriter Al Judge (Howard St. John) wherever he goes all night long, firstly on a box match where he bumps into a friendly guy Dr. Lloyd Cooper (Philip Bourneuf) who'll buy an extra ticket, stolen by a corrupt cop aftermaths, he is introduces for a Dr. Lloyd's lover Marion (Joan Loring) at night club, meanwhile looking around Al Judge's whereabouts.

The young George La Main stalking Al Judge in every place, this journey actually is his prove of fire, due in that night George will see how the anger sometimes is silly over a so complex matter regarding his father's past happenings, he'll meets a gorgeous black singer girl, where the society barrier split apart, also on Marion's apartment he randomly faces a young girl whom cares about him, depressing and haunted George seeks Al Judge at your own apartment aiming for clear up and finally got his so awaited revenge, however the real reason will baffled him when the perpetrator claiming a fair reason.

Aside the fine premise the outcome is faraway to be suitable, a lame screenplay lost a fair opportunity to allowed a convincing ending, what a waste, in other hand there are plenty of fine sequences at long night in several places, as the fabulous one at toilet, also on the box match when George watching Al Judge thru binocs one second later Al disappears from the sight, fantastic sequences worthwhile a look in this early Losey.

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First watch: 2023 / How many: 1 / Source: DVD / Rating: 7.

John Drew Barrymore Jr. Enters the "Family Tradition" and Dives Deeply and Emerges with an Over-the-Top Hot Performance that Desperately Demands a Non-Nepo Response.

Awkward, Nervously Angst-Ridden, He Performs Like His Life Depended-On-It, Trying Maybe a Beat too Hard.

But Director Losey Let Him, and other Things Here Go Un-Checked.

Relying on the Dark Underbelly of the City its Megalopolis Tendency to Erode and Crush the "Little People", that by Fate, Inhabit the Arteries of the "Concrete Jungle" Clinging to Every Vine and Crevice for Survival.

The Movie seems a Bit-Rushed (anticipating Losey's life in forced-flux), compared to Other more Solid Cinema Unleashed by the Cynical, Left-Leaning "Auteur" that was Victimized by the "Red-Scare" and an Out-of-Control Political Corruption that Failed to See the Unconstitutional Error of Their Ways in Real Time.

The Film, in 1951 was Made when Film-Noir itself was the Victim of a "System" on the Warpath to Sanitize anything in America that Looked Like a Trend Away from the Idealistic, Road-Map Created for a Guide of What Was and What Was Not Acceptable to the Clergy, Law Enforcement and a Fake Moral-Compass Pointing the Way of "Americanism" by Standards Made-Up On-the-Fly to Fit the Form of a Pre-Conceived Conservative Society that Toed-the-Line, Obeyed Orders from the Top and Didn't Ask Questions. After All, "They" were Looking-Out-For-You.

Losey, and Others were Free-Thinking, Empathetic, and were More Interested in the Collective Good and Not the Collective as Sub-Servant.

A True Film-Noir Founder and Pioneer. "The Big Night" is just 1 of His Many Contributions to the Growing, Spontaneous, Sub-Genre that Allowed 1940's Creative Film-Makers and Social Commentators to Vent and Vocalize a Point of View that was Hardly Main-Stream.

Like All of Joseph Losey Films...

Worth a Watch.

Joseph Losey's The Big Night is a film noir that's also, like Moonrise and Talk About A Stranger, a coming-of-age story. The young male undergoing his transformational journey is John Barrymore, Jr., son of the Great Profile and father of Drew. His film career was not high-profile, as he inherited the family disposition toward chemical dependency (blood will tell). But here, boasting a luxuriantly healthy crown of hair, he gives a surprisingly intense yet controlled performance. His big night happens to be his 16th or 17th birthday, when his barkeep father is brutally beaten and publicly humiliated by a local sportswriter (Losey's staging is unflinching). Frustrations about his own Hamlet-like ditherings and confusions impel him to seek revenge on his father's behalf, and, gun in pocket, he sets out into a nightscape of prize fights, gin mills and the walk-up flats of casually met strangers. While Losey's sympathies lie with Barrymore, it's always clear that the emergent man is still a callow stripling, incapable of apprehending the complex reality he crashes into, like a fatted calf in a china shop. Though the director refrains from pushing the conclusion to where it might logically go -- he retreats into sentimentality and sententiousness -- The Big Night still scores as a provocative, moodily shot film.

From Losey's American feature films (a period which barely lasted four years, when he fell victim to political persecution) I had only previously watched his eccentric debut, THE BOY WITH GREEN HAIR (1948). The same year he made THE BIG NIGHT, a low-budget noir, he directed two other thrillers - THE PROWLER, Losey's own favorite from this early phase of his career and M, an Americanization of Fritz Lang's German masterpiece. Both these films promise to be a good deal more interesting than the ones I watched, and I hope I get the chance to view them someday...

Anyway, back to THE BIG NIGHT: in itself, it wasn't too bad but it didn't feel at all like a Losey film; perhaps that's because I'm not used to watching him dealing with an American setting - but it's still a minor film, not quite knowing where it's going and not even that compelling while it's on. The noir-ish atmosphere (courtesy of cinematographer Hal Mohr), however, is quite interestingly deployed - sometimes with an audacious psychological resonance, as in the nightclub scene where a riotous drum solo brings back to lead John Barrymore Jr. (looking more like Sean Penn than his matinée' idol father!) memories of his father's vicious beating at the hands of a crippled but influential sports columnist (an effectively sinister Howard St. John); the latter episode is actually a key scene, which sets the plot in motion and sends Barrymore - who witnessed father Preston Foster's humiliation and whom he idolized - seething with revenge in search of St. John.

The characters are largely stereotypes - caring bartender (Foster owns a bar), philosophical drunk pal, his bitter girlfriend (a rather spent Dorothy Comingore, who 10 years earlier had played Susan Alexander in CITIZEN KANE [1941]!), her good-girl sister who falls for and yearns to 'save' Barrymore, shady promoter Emil Meyer (a dry run for his memorable turn as a crooked cop in SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS [1957]), etc. - but the last act provides a couple of ironic twists involving the characters of Foster, St. John and the tragic fate of a woman they both loved in their own way.

Uneven film that at times seems to drift. Still, there are genuinely compelling moments, as when burly dad LeMaine (Foster, in a fine performance) meekly submits to a brutal cane lashing that had me cringing. Why he's submitting remains a puzzle until the end. Because of the beating, Dad's insecure son George (Barrymore Jr.) spends the movie's remainder trying to avenge his father.

Beneath the revenge narrative, however, is really a rite-of-passage story. For example, in a not very believable opening, a cringing George is pounded in humiliating fashion by his teenage peers. We're given no explanation, nor does actor Barrymore physically resemble an easy mark. It's not a promising beginning. Then, in a much more persuasive scene, Dad casts a slightly disapproving eye over his nervous son's birthday cake (symbolic of the story). So the kid must prove himself not only to Dad, but to himself.

It's not a tight screenplay. Events more or less simply follow one another, tied together by the theme of vengeance. Happily, however, the narrative doesn't drag. Actor Barrymore Jr. had a rather brief career despite the pedigree. One thing for sure, he's certainly different looking. With a mop of unruly hair and slightly crooked mouth, he's no glamor boy. Nonetheless, his looks are perfect for the role, such that, when he dons a sport coat and hat, he still looks like a kid trying to take a big step up. All in all, the young actor does pretty well in the kind of difficult role that would later go to James Dean. I also like a de-glamorized Joan Lorring, who's a good match for him. My one real complaint is the way Al Judge (St. John) is written. His behavior is so crude and ugly, it's hard thinking of him as a respected sports writer. A racketeer would have been more credible and easier, so the scriptwriters must have had a reason.

Then too, the screenwriters, Butler and Lardner Jr., along with director Losey, were all blacklisted during Hollywood's commie hunting period. I suspect it was their leftist leanings that are responsible for one of the film's most arresting sequences. George goes to a nightclub where a drop-dead beautiful black songstress (Mauri Lynn) entertains. Afterward, he encounters her outside and is compelled to compliment her looks and talent. She glows at the flattering remark. Trouble is his heartfelt momentum carries over to the unspoken qualification "for a Negro woman". She grasps the unfortunate hanging-in-the-air racial reference, and is reminded of her not-fully-equal status. Thus, disappointment clouds her former glow. It's a beautifully played moment and quite powerful in emotional impact. I wonder what happened to that fine actress.

Anyway, the movie does have a number of effective noir touches, especially George's twilight escape through LA's towering industrial district. It's a mysterious world so much larger than himself. All in all, the film is oddly memorable, thanks, I think, to Barrymore's unusual presence. I know I sought it out on DVD, lo, so many years after having first seen it in a theatre.

(In passing—the burly guy sitting next to Barrymore and Bourneuf ringside at the fights is Robert Aldrich, the great director of such classics as Kiss Me Deadly {1955} and Attack {1956}.)