Muerte al amanecer

Terrific performances by many actors make this 1946 noir a joy to watch. Nifty murder mystery directed by Harold Clurman and written by Clifford Odets. As mentioned elsewhere on this board the dialog is wondrous; you never know what anyone will say, and everyone seems to "wax philosophic" throughout the film.

The action follows a murder of a woman and how it involves a sailor on leave, a dance-hall girl, and a taxi driver. The story takes place on a sweltering New York night in the early hours. The sailor must catch a 6 AM bus, so there's the "deadline at dawn." As the protagonists track down clues, they run across a bizarre collection of shady types, and everyone seems to to capable of murder, especially of this particular woman.

Susan Hayward gives a stunning performance as June. She starts out as a wisecracking and downhearted taxi dancer who resists getting involved but can't help herself since the sailor (Bill Williams) seems so innocent and naive. She calls him Boob McNutt. As they race around the city tracking down clues (this city never sleeps) they meet a world-weary taxi driver (Paul Lukas) who helps out. All three stars give amazing performances here.

Supporting players are also a knockout with Lola Lane terrific as the victim, Joseph Calleia as her creepy brother, Osa Masson (with a limp), and Marvin Miller, Jerone Cowan, Constance Worth, Al Bridge, Steven Geray, Joseph Crehan and others all solid.

Odets' writing is excellent even if all the characters seem to talk in the same poetic language. But it becomes mesmerizing as the characters seek the truth and talk. It seems that everyone is city wise but a poet at heart.

Hayward looks great with her hair pinned up (it's a sultry night) with bobby pins. She wears little makeup. Williams is also wonderful as the sailor who's not quite as dumb as he seems. Lukas is also solid as the surprising taxi driver.

Great film noir with touches of poetry and humor. What more could you want?

Explosive lighting by cinematographer Nick Murasaca; a twisty, turning plot by mystery writer Cornell Woolrich; literate dialogue with heart from playwright Clifford Odets; and an estimable ensemble cast of fine character actors, plus a young, beautiful, and surprisingly effective Susan Hayward -- it all adds up to make this a little film noir gem.

It's a very New York piece, though it's also an example of RKO Pictures at its Hollywood best. And yet, for a film noir, there's a surprising sweetness, a current of innocence personified by the sailor boy accused of murder in a nocturnal urban jungle of violence, betrayal and corruption.

Highly recommended.

The real star of this underappreciated noir is Clifford Odets' dialogue, which you either love or you hate. I love it. Really terrific performances, and even the bit players are memorable. Look for Group Theater vet Roman Bohnen in a tiny role as the building janitor with a dead cat-- "she could practically speak." Or Jerome Cowan, a B-movie actor in a zillion Forties flicks, wonderfully slimy as a Broadway producer. Filmed on a backlot, but it seethes New York more than most location movies.

This modest film noir is flat-out crazy and a tremendous amount of fun.

Bill Williams plays a sailor on leave who follows a floozy back to her room, passes out and then finds upon waking that the floozy is dead and can't remember what if anything he had to do with it. He's got to catch a boat (or is it train?) at dawn, and is afraid he'll be implicated in the murder if he doesn't find the true killer before then. He teams up with a dance hall hostess (Susan Hayward) and, before the evening's out, a cab driver (Paul Lukas) and sets out into the New York midnight to solve the crime.

The screenplay doesn't make a lick of sense, and my wife and I found ourselves actually laughing at the preposterous developments and turns in the story. It's hilarious how committed these three people are to solving this crime despite the fact that there's absolutely nothing attaching the sailor to it, and how easy a time they have following up on clues in as huge a city as NY despite the fact that the clues are things like "he was wearing a tuxedo" and "she had blonde hair." A plot twist at the movie's end, when the real killer is revealed, is right up there with the best of them. Oscar winner Paul Lukas brings much more acting ability to his performance than his role requires, and Susan Hayward is absolutely riveting. This was my first and so far only exposure to this acclaimed actress, and I look forward to many more.

What a blast this movie is!

Grade: A-

A young sailor on leave wakes up at midnight in a newsstand with bundles of money in his pockets and no recollection of his time spent with the wrong woman. Of course she turns out to be dead and he has until a bus leaves at 6am to discover the culprit or he gets the rap.

I like films with concentrated wandering, this one has it, the entire film like a slow ride across New York after hours in the backseat of a cab with windows rolled down, it's the middle of August, the macadam breathing out the day's heat again, or like lounging by the open window of your apartment with lights turned off, glimpses of strange figures stalking the empty and sweltering streets below and imagining mischief from them.

It has mood above all, latenight paranoia being sweated out from pores in the skin. Everything looks a bit unhinged in that magic-desolate way that is summer in the big city.

But this is deeply noirish in a key way, the way of the dumb guy's dream that crystallizes the essence of noir. Our man was out at night dreaming but has no recollection what about, except it involved offers of sex and illicit money. We presume he's innocent because of his naive blond looks and because he's the one telling the story, and is bewildered as he does, because more likely suspects are paraded, stories are piled, testimonies, conjecture, a drunk man uncovers hidden truth, a cab driver reflects about love, but the puzzle persists, the puzzle that is the night of life; we cannot really know, there is a blank spot at the center. Emptiness behind the stories that we make up to narrate our private worlds.

You will need no more eloquent parallel about what this is all about than a blind pianist among the suspects and being - mistakenly - sussed from his melodramatic reaction.

So we have sinister happenings back in the waking world, itself rendered as something you wake up from. Then our film as a dream attempting inner balance, so of course thick in coincidence, in strange but kind souls assisting, capped off with a miraculous revelation in the end that absolves guilt.

This is truly wonderful stuff that has burned itself into my visual imagination. It's clean and dark both, the shadows all in having traveled, having dreamed the night away.