Riffraff

Riffraff (AKA: erm, Riff-Raff) is directed by Ted Tetzlaff and written by Martin Rackin. It stars Pat O'Brien, Anne Jeffreys, Walter Slezak and Percy Kilbride. Music is by Roy Webb and cinematography by George Diskant.

Something of a little cracker is this one, a pic for those with a discernible palate of Private Investigator based film noir. Don't be misled into believing others when they write that it's minor noir, or borderline of such, it quite simply is a noir pic from what was a stellar year for that film making style.

Story is based in Panama and finds P.I. Dan Hammer (O'Brien) involved in the search for a map that shows priceless oil concessions. Sure enough there's others who desperately want the map, so in comes murder, beatings and a sultry babe.

Pic opens with the shot of a reptile at nighttime, sitting on a rock in the pouring rain, it probably would have been better to use a snake in the shot, but it certainly is a most appealing and appropriate film opening. From there the piece is a veritable feast of super photography and punchy dialogue. OK, so the plot story is standard fare, but the makers never let it drag things down, there's always a quip or a punch thrown to keep things perky.

Tetzlaff was himself a fine cinematographer (see the previous year's Notorious), and here armed with Diskant (They Live By Night/On Dangerous Ground/The Narrow Margin) in his corner the director makes hay. The plot set-up sequences in an aeroplane are moody visual supreme, and often when a scene calls for it - such as when Hammer is getting tortured in his office by Sleazak and his thugs - the noir style comes to the fore. There's wooden slats everywhere in this, wonderful!

Initially one can be forgiven for being sceptical at a portly 48 year old O'Brien playing a tough P.I., but he pulls it off, sharp of tongue and he throws a good punch does Pat. Jeffreys (Dillinger) slinks in for some initial sultry suspicion, and does well, even getting involved in the key fight scene, Kilbride is wonderfully wry as Hammer's unofficial aide, and Sleazak does what he does best, Weasle time!

Capping it off is the MacGuffin map, whose whereabouts at reveal is cheeky and something Hitch would have been proud of. Riffraff is a winner and well worth seeking out. 7/10

In Panama, a private detective is hired to find a missing oil well map.

I expect this little gem got lost in the 1947 crowd. Too bad, because the opening scene is a wordless tour-de-force. Catch that ominous looking lizard in the first shot, indicating the sinister events to follow. Then there's the rainstorm that sounds like the sky is exploding around the airfield. And finally, scope out the open cargo hatch at 20,000 feet, where you see three people but no parachutes. It's a tough act to follow, and truth be told, the story then settles into an entertaining, if unremarkable, private-eye adventure.

Nonetheless, there are so many nice touches lifting the narrative—the lazy guard dog, the down-and-outers needing help, Pop's belching old cab. But most of all, there's the stylish visuals, courtesy director Tetzlaff and cameraman Diskant. The compositions are especially impressive since they're artistic without being showy. And, of course, there's the great RKO team of D'Agostino and Silvera collaborating on the noirish sets.

I also like O'Brien in the lead. He sure doesn't look like the standard Hollywood dick. He's about 20-years too old, 20-pounds too heavy, and more than a little balding. Still and all, he can fire off the tough-guy banter with the best and make you believe it. Of course, having the lovely Maxine (Jeffries) fall headlong for him remains something of a stretch, but that's just Hollywood being Hollywood.

Talk about hiding in plain sight-- the map trick has stayed with me over the years. Speaking of the unusual, catch that brawl at movie's end. One thing for sure, I want Jeffries in my corner from now on. She doesn't just stand around while the hero gets bashed, even when a tricky bookcase bounces back at her.

Anyhow, it's a really good little RKO programmer and a good reason to keep prospecting these unheralded oldies for their hidden gold.

Who does not love a good suspense/mystery? I for one really enjoy a good film noir especially when the opening sequence captures an audience's attention within the first five minutes without even uttering a single word. This is a film that you cannot leave the room for even a minute because if you do, you will certainly miss a key piece of this films centerpiece, which is a map containing the location of dozens of untapped oil fields worth millions of dollars.

There are plenty of evil doers trying to pull a fast one on each other in the hopes of netting themselves the one map that holds the locations of dozens of oil fields. But as tough guy detective Dan Hammer (Pat O-Brien) soon finds out while trying to protect a client of his named Hasso (Marc Krah) who happens to be a murderer himself from his other enemies one of which named Walter Gredson (Jerome Cowan) also pays Hammer to locate the map before anyone else can get their hands on it.

This is a cat and mouse game that also includes a gorgeous cabaret singer named Maxine (Anne Jeffreys) who is working incognito for her so called fiance Walter Gredson, but soon falls head over heels for the smooth talking, hard swinging detective Dan Hammer.

Besides the cat and mouse game I was impressed by Hammer's guard dog who always laid directly in front of Hammer's office doorway but yet the bad guys were neither intimidated by Hammer's dog, nor was Hammer ever forewarned by either a growl, bark or nary a whimper that there is trouble approaching Hammer's doorway. Some guard dog eh? He was adorable and this picture with its mystery and cinematography that reminded me of the next years more successful film (1948) Key Largo is well worth watching.

I give Riff Raff seven (7) woofs-woofs, its "howling" good action and mystery to keep you entertained

One of the many felicities of Ted Tetzlaff's top-notch Riffraff, the cinematography of George Diskant can be best seen, unencumbered by dialogue, in the first few dazzling minutes. Torrential storms darken an airfield in Peru, where in the dead of night a cargo plane bearing two passengers departs for Panama; only one of them arrives. The opening previews Tetzlaff's pure-cinema approach; he lets the story unfold through images (and occasionally sounds) with a casual adroitness that remains striking more than half a century later.

At the center of the story is Pat O'Brien, a Canal Zone operative-for-hire. The surviving passenger engages him for protection, but doesn't survive for long. Then an oil company hires him to find a map, supposedly with the vanished man, of unclaimed oil fields in Peru. Walter Slezak wants it, too, but through strong-arm tactics. O'Brien, with the help of his driver Percy Kilbride and nightclub singer Anne Jeffreys, sets out in pursuit of the elusive document (which we know from almost the get-go hangs pinned to a screen in his room).

In retrospectives of film noir, Riffraff usually gets overlooked. While its genre is international intrigue and its touch on the light side, its conventions and, especially, its look, bring it to the fringes of the noir cycle. (And it's a better movie than two noirs released the same year which mine similar veins: Calcutta and Singapore.)

Bigger stars like Humphrey Bogart and Alan Ladd monopolized this tough-guy-in-ports-of-call genre, but O'Brien acquits himself honorably. Unfortunately, he was nearing 50 at the time, and his early-middle-age looks probably weren't what post-war audiences were looking for (Bogart, however, was exactly the same age). No matter: the real heroes of Riffraff are Tetzlaff and Diskant, who collaborated to make what Judith Crist used to call a `movie movie.'

I was never taken much by Pat O'Brien, even though he appeared in many good movies since 1930. This is another good one, but not because of Pat O'Brien...

This was the first time I saw Anne Jeffreys, and for her alone it's worth seeing this film: without doubt, Jeffreys is a head-turner and heart-stopper. In reviewing her acting career, it's now clear to me why I have missed seeing her: soon after the early 1950s, she moved into TV for most of her career. And, as I have mostly avoided TV, well, there you go...

Anyway, to the movie...

I guess I'd call this type of story an adventure, a treasure hunt for black gold in the form of a missing map of oil wells in Peru, and a map that various nasty people are all trying to find. The reason for that lost map is finely drawn – on a dark and stormy night (okay, there are a few clichés along the way in this narrative) - with an exquisitely done sequence at the start, as the camera pulls back from a lizard at the edge of airfield in deepest Peru to reveal a waiting DC-3 and a small group of people trying to hear themselves think while the rain pours down on the tin roof of the terminal. Not a word is spoken, natch. Eventually, a passenger arrives to board the plane with another who'd been waiting. The plane leaves, clawing its way into the storm with the passengers sitting with the cargo. During the voyage, however, one of the passengers either jumps or is pushed from the plane – but the other passenger, Hasso (Mark Krah), now has the map...

From that point, you know there's more dirty dealings coming and, after telling his story to the cops, Hasso hires PI Dan Hammer (Pat O'Brien) to act as a bodyguard. Leaving Hasso at the hotel, Hammer visits Gredson (Jerome Cowan) who hires Hammer to find the map that Hasso now has, unbeknown to both. Hasso, being devious, hides the map in plain sight – a delightful ironic touch that's used to good effect throughout the movie, but would have been better, in my opinion, if the viewer had been kept in the dark also.

However...the plot thickens when Molinar (Walter Slezak), another treasure seeker, starts putting the squeeze on Hammer to get the map, and who roughs up Maxine (Anne Jeffreys) while trying to find it in Hammer's office where Maxine had been waiting. Maxine, you see, had wormed her way into Hammer's sight at the club where she sings – not only for herself as a singer, but as a spy for Gredson with whom she is romantically involved. Or is she? That's for Hammer to find out, along the way. Got the picture?

The denouement, of course, is fairly predictable but enlivened by Percy Kilbride as Pop, the taxi driver who shows how easy it is to run circles around unwary and over-confident crooks on the run. The whole movie is further enhanced by the dark/light cinematography that captures the Panama City scene so well (even though it's a Hollywood back-lot); indeed, the highly inventive chase at night between Hammer, on foot, and Molinar in the taxi with Pop, almost leaves you...well, breathless; and wondering whether Carol Reed chose to use the same techniques of dark shadows, narrow streets and running footsteps in The Third Man (1949) when Holly Martins (Joseph Cotton) chases Harry Lime (Orson Welles) in post-war Vienna. The similarity is quite distinctive, even down to some of the skewed close-ups and sharp camera angles.

And, finally, the dialog throughout is just right: sharp, full of innuendo, devious, and witty - and every bit as good as others you've heard in great thrillers and intrigues.

Pat O'Brien does a credible job – as always – but his attempt as a hard-boiled PI and fixer doesn't quite match Robert Mitchum in Out of the Past (1947) or the great Bogie in any one of his fine works from the 1940s or 1950s. However, I was looking at Anne Jeffreys most of the time anyway...

If you get the chance, see this one, for an enjoyable eighty minutes. Recommended for all.