Grito de terror

Like the old Sinatra song, things can be far better the second time around. The first time I saw "Cry Danger" it was shortly after a viewing of "Murder, My Sweet" and it just couldn't compare to that classic. I recently viewed the movie again and I must say that "Cry Danger" was a lot of fun.

The real stars of the movie are 1) the dialogue, and 2) Dick Powell's delivery of that dialogue. Bogart and Mitchum are blue collar guys who deliver these kinds of one-liners beautifully...and it stings...but Powell has an air of elegance and intelligence wrapped in a white collar, so when he gets caustic, condescending, sarcastic, and nasty, it seems to hurt even more. And it hurts so good. There is nothing more delicious to Noir fans than Powell letting rip with a great one-liner. And the more casual he is, the more "tossed away" the line is delivered, the more we grin with satisfaction. It's just a thing of beauty.

The supporting cast is good, with just about everyone pulling their weight admirably. William Conrad, Regis Toomey, and Rhonda Fleming are in fine form. I was expecting twists, turns, and deceit from Erdman's character, but after an interesting reveal in the beginning of the film, his character seems to be abandoned and left only to provide some comic relief. That missed opportunity aside, though, the script is fun and moves along briskly.

The direction is just fine, though not as dark as I would have liked it...but that is a minor complaint. There is a rawness and realism to these B films that I find much more rewarding than a lot of the glossy A films produced.

8 out of 10 for a thoroughly enjoyable hour and a half crawl through the seedy underbelly of Tinsel Town.

This film was shot on location in and around the Bunker Hill area of Los Angeles in the 1950's. The seedy trailer park, the crummy cocktail bars, and the Union Station (built in 1939) are the backdrop for a much better than average tale of revenge. Dick Powell gets off a train at the Union Station after spending 5 years in prison for a crime he didn't commit. He is met by a cop (Regis Toomey) that thinks he not only did the crime, but that he has stashed the loot. Also on the welcoming committee is Richard Erdman as an alcoholic former Marine that provided Powell with an alibi that got him out of prison. Rhonda Fleming plays the wife of a pal of Powell's that remains in prison for the crime. Powell intends to prove not only his innocence, but that of his buddy.

Add to the mix William Conrad as a bad guy with his own agenda and you have a better than average noir. The dialog between Powell and Erdman is dark and funny at the same time. The cinematography captures a part of Los Angeles that fell under the urban renewal wrecking ball that ripped the soul out of this part of the city. Not the greatest film noir ever made, but one of my favorites. Why isn't this film out on DVD?

Good dialog and a fast-moving story make this one of the better somewhat-unknown film noirs of its day.

Dick Powell and Jay Adler wisecrack their way through this film with some humorous sarcasm. Both are a lot of fun to watch. Powell was in his prime for this kind of role. He was much more mature looking than in his earlier musical days and he fits the part of a tough detective to a tee. His dialog with the tough cop, played by Regis Toomey, also is excellent stuff.

Jean Porter provides added humor with her supporting role as the bimbo-thief date for Adler and Rhonda Fleming adds beauty. A younger William Conrad - with a dark head of hair and a mustache - also has a key role in here.

Even though it is classified as film noir, I'm not sure it belongs in that category because it doesn't feature the brooding, dark type of characters and atmosphere one usually sees in that genre. One place is does belong is in your collection, if you like classic crime stories. This is another attractive film that still hasn't been issued on DVD.

Dick Powell, born in Mt. View, Arkansas, had a versatile career, starting out as a song and dance man with hit records who starred in some of the best musicals Hollywood ever made several of them by Busby Berkely. When his career floundered he changed genres and became one of the movies' best tough guys, in many ways better in the role than Humphrey Bogart, although Powell never became the cult hero Bogart became. Powell then went on to success in the new medium of television. While "Cry Danger" is no "Murder, My Sweet," it is an exceptional tough guy flick. One thing that always impressed me about Dick Powell, especially well done in "Murder, My Sweet," is his talk. He could read a line like nobody else. His voice helps make "Cry Danger" more realistic and more exciting to watch. William Conrad's Castro is an excellent foil for Powell's character, Rocky Mulloy. This was before the world came to know a real life villain, Fidel Castro. Today, Conrad's character has become even more dastardly as a result of historical events. There is even a freakish resemblance between Conrad's Castro and the cigar-smoking one in Cuba. Thus Conrad's character is even more menacing. Richard Erdman usually gets on my nerves when I see him in a movie. He had a habit of overplaying his part. But in Cry Danger he has been properly cast and comes off a winner. He ends up with some of the best lines in the film. This is the best acting I have seen him do. Rocky (Dick Powell) and Delong(Erdman)have trouble with their women in "Cry Danger." Both Rhonda Fleming and Jean Porter turn in creditable performances and add to the overall effectiveness of the film. One reviewer commented on the photography. And it's true the photography adds much to the overall impact of the movie. The trailer park is shown in such a realistic manner that the viewer can almost see the cockroaches crawl across the table. The action never slows down. The final scene is a good one. Once you start watching "Cry Danger" you won't want to stop.

Among the male stars of the noir cycle, Dick Powell was the most peevish. When Humphrey Bogart smart-talked, it was with a wry bonhomie; when Robert Mitchum did it, it was with mumbled nonchalance. But when Powell snaps back a retort, you know he's got his dander up. This drastic change from his earlier days as happy-go-lucky hoofer began with his assumption (the first) of Philip Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet and continued in Cornered, Johnny O'Clock, To the Ends of the Earth, and The Pitfall. His prickly temper informs Robert Parrish's Cry Danger, the last true noir he would appear in before affecting a pipe and cardigans in The Bad and the Beautiful.

Carrying a grip with the weight of the world in it, Powell steps off a train in Los Angeles; he's just spent five years in prison for a robbery and murder for which he took the rap. Luckily, a war-wounded and hard-drinking Marine (Richard Erdman), with whom he was supposedly drinking when the job was pulled, surfaced to give him an alibi. But Powell has never met this old buddy before.

Nonetheless, they throw their lot together and rent an armadillo-like trailer in a run-down park, where the wife of his old partner (Rhonda Fleming) lives, too. Powell has scores to settle, beginning with big-time bookie William Conrad who, he reckons, owes him $50-grand. Conrad pays off in classic mob fashion, by giving him a tip on a fixed race. The payoff money puts the police on his tail, as its marked bills are part of the take from the old robbery. But all traces of the illegal book have vanished, so Powell can't prove his innocence. He starts stalking Conrad for revenge, even though he's dodging pot-shots in the trailer park, while the duplicity that ensnared him lies much closer to home....

Cry Danger has a number of points in its favor, chief among them the pitiless photography of Joseph Biroc (it's decidedly the low-rent side of the City of Angels). Parrish keeps hustling the story along, nonetheless slowing down enough to allow Erdman a craftily underplayed, memorable performance (the same can't be said of Fleming, who simply lacks the wherewithal to function convincingly as femme fatale). There's a high quotient of violence, too – particularly when Powell extracts a confession from Conrad through a one-sided game of Russian Roulette. Somehow, though, the ingenuity of the earlier part of the picture starts to peter out near the end, turning its oddly low-key ending into something of an afterthought.