El vestido roto

"The Tattered Dress" is an excellent mystery and crime story that will keep one on the edge of her or his seat from halfway through to the end. And, what a tremendous cast of top actors of the day. The leads all gave great performances - Jeff Chandler as James Blane, Jeanne Crain as his wife, Diane, and Jack Carson as Sheriff Nick Hoak. And a supporting cast of well known actors who also shine - George Tobias as Billy Giles, Gail Russsell as Carol Morrow, Edward Platt as Ralph Adams and Edward Andrews as Lester Rawlings head up that bunch.

I don't recall ever having seen this film as a teenager when it came out, or on late night movies after that. The plot is very original and very interesting. The only fuzzy thing about this is the portrayal of the murder case that big city attorney James Blane wins in getting his wealthy client, Michael Reston (played by Phillip Reed) acquitted. The film just has Blane cross examining the sheriff and pretty much making a fool of him. The next thing is a jury verdict of innocent. But that then opens onto the meat of this movie when Blane is served with a summons for a grand jury trial.

Anyone who enjoys good mystery films should like this one from way back in the middle of the 20th century. Here are a couple of favorite lines from this film.

Michael Reston, "You sound like a prosecutor." James Blane, "Another acute observation. You're cleverer than I imagined."

Charleen Reston, "I'll pick you up at the courthouse at eleven." James Blane, "Slight correction - I'll see you in court Monday morning."

Jack Arnold's "The Tattered Dress" is a wonderful surprise - a very fine, well-crafted movie from Universal that defies the usual movie pigeonholes of A-movie versus B-movie, and serious film versus exploitation film. It also demonstrates Arnold's versatility as a director: known for his many classic sci-fi/fantasy pictures, yet capable of a classic British comedy hit "The Mouse That Roared" and everything in between including blaxploitation (with Fred Williamson) and excellent work for TV.

Watching it for the first time, some 67 years after release via YouTube, I was immediately struck by the excellent CinemaScope black & white photography, with fine compositions by an unheralded cameraman Carl Guthrie (who shot one of my all-time favorite movies, "Christmas in Connecticut").

But this is an Albert Zugsmith production, and like so many of his exploitation movies features many beautiful actresses like Elaine Stewart (she of the tattered dress) to add a tidbit or so of raciness to an otherwise serious picture.

The script by George Zuckerman, best-known for his screenplays for Douglas Sirk classics, is remarkable, with complex lead characters played by Jeff Chandler (the deeply flawed lawyer who has heroic elements) and well-cast Jack Carson (a most amiable villain). He manages to include courtroom gimmickry that puts a Perry Mason episode to shame, by taking the usual preachiness of a spirited lawyer's speech to nearly satirical extremes.

IMDb submitters have classified the movie incorrectly as "film noir" and "Psychotronic" (apologies to Michael Weldon, who I knew well back in Cleveland before we both moved to NYC). Just as the word "cult" has been misused and widely overused in recent decades, I prefer "overlooked" or "misunderstood" as more accurate to describe so many great movies ranging from Hugo Haas to Ken Russell that eventually have found a niche and latter-day appreciation. (Growing up in the '50s, it was the word "camp", both high and low, that was how film buffs treated similar off-beat content.)

There seems to me as a writer and critic to be a bad tendency among U.S. reviewers to confuse their emotional and unaccountable reactions with information. For instance, I regard Jeff Chandler as a very good classical actor; I assert this because he has the vocal power, sufficient emotional voltage and the high intelligence to play characters in the distant past, future, positions of nobility and professions.  But I also claim to be able to tell among his strongest portrayals, and those which were less successful. In "A Tattered Dress", for instance, the dress referring to the robes which cloak the naked female statue of justice, I believe Chandler has one of his most fascinating parts in this film by anyone's standards.  And one of his best successes.He plays a lawyer who was refused employment as a poor student once he had been admitted to the bar in the Depression era; to overcome this injustice, he began taking clients who were criminals, who could pay him. In the years since then, he has become a famous and deeply- hated lawyer, because of those criminals whom he represents. The fascinating twist to this Jack Arnold directed noir is that he wins his original case. A husband had been accused of having killed his wife's lover, after she has come with "a tattered dress'. Then, thanks to collusion between the town's average-guy closet-dictator sheriff, and those supporting him, the lawyer finds himself accused of having bribed a juror during the case. His estranged wife returns to stand by him; he elects to be defended by the best lawyer he knows, himself. and this proves to alienate the townsfolk even further. He shakes the juror's testimony, but he must resort to a magnificent last defense, equating the tattered dress with justice itself that is thwarted, to plead his case as a human being who has been wronged more than he has wronged anyone. he is acquitted, which leads to a strongly-written climax and ending. This is a well-made and well-directed thriller; besides veteran Arnold's direction, this B/W drama features original music by Frank Skinner and Henry Mancini, fine cinematography by Carl E. Guthrie, outstanding art direction by Alexander Golitzen and Bill Newberry, set decorations by John P. Austin and Russell A Gausman. The very good costumes were the creation of J.A. Morely, Jr., with makeup being the work of Bud Westmore. Among the cast, Jeff Chandler's work as the lawyer accused is award level and memorable, varied in tone and nuanced. Others who brought to life George Zuckerman's finely-crafted script, drawn from a novel included Jack Carson as the sheriff, Jeanne Crain as the lawyer's wife, Gail Russell as the juror in question, Philip Reed as the husband, plus talented Edward Andrews Elaine Edwards, George Tobias, Edward Platt, Alexander Lockwood, Paul Birch, Edwin Jerome and William Schallert. This is a film that must be judged I assert by what it is, not what any observer wished it might have been. It is a very powerful indictment of U.s. societal justice as long ago as the 1930s; and of the citizens of a representative town who allow their prejudices to interfere with their judgment. Similar movies had been made, in the same era as this, about other democratically-elected governments and their statist countries, such as England and France. But the content of this scorching indictment of postmodernist truth-twisters and their all-too-willing victims is a very United States story, and one coming from the H.U.A.C era as well. A very strong film.

By far the best few minutes in The Tattered Dress occur in its swift, provocative prologue. In filthy-rich Desert Valley, California, there's an illicit tryst (where a bodice actually gets ripped); a fight between the adulterous blonde and her jealous husband; and the stalking and slaying of the popular young man who cuckolded him. When a hotshot mouthpiece from New York rolls into town to defend the killer, on the grounds that he was only avenging his wife's rape, it promises to be down-and-dirty fun, like Anatomy of Murder a couple years later.

No such luck. The trial is but a plot point, winning lawyer Jeff Chandler not only an acquittal for his client but the everlasting enmity of the town sheriff and political boss (Jack Carson). Chandler finds himself framed for bribing a juror and ill-advisedly chooses to defend himself. To his side rushes Jeanne Crain, playing that most thankless of roles, the loyal ex-wife. Though there's some welcome noirish violence, the movie has aspirations to being a big courtroom drama where Chandler fights for his reputation, his self-respect, and "principle."

Turning Chandler into the central character proves a colossal miscalculation. He can't begin to impersonate a legal legend who's been compared to Clarence Darrow; though he sweats and strains to work up a full head of steam in his flat, wide skull, he convinces only the jurors -- never us viewers.

Elaine Stewart, as the trampy trophy-wife, and Gail Russell, as the bribed juror, get tossed aside, as does Crain. Only Carson emerges unscathed; once again, as in a long line of supporting roles, he uses his affable, average-joe persona to hide the ruthless schemer inside. When Chandler turns the ripped dress of the original trial into a metaphor for the "tattered" garb of the blind statue of Justice, it's clear that this movie is giving itself airs because it has nothing else to give.

Big-shot trial lawyer Jeff Chandler gets a client off for a murder in Nevada. The murdered man had been a friend of sheriff Jack Carson. Carson frames Chandler for bribing a juror. When the attorney Chandler and long-suffering ex-wife Jeanne Crain hire begins to talk about plea deals, Chandler fires him and conducts his own defense.

It's directed by the under-rated Jack Arnold, who is best remembered for some fine, subtext-laden monster movies of the era. With Chandler's dramatic, rumbling voice, however, it turns into a well-told soap opera, with undertones of danger from Carson, who is very good in his part. I'm afraid I was put off by the slovenly-lawyered courtroom scenes, in which attorneys accepted hearsay evidence without a whimper, and verdicts that seem unlikely. Other cast members include Edward Platt as a reporter whose job seems to be to follow around Chandler, George Tobias as a not-too-funny comic, Gail Russell as the woman who accuses Chandler of bribery, and Elaine Stewart as a rather dumb blonde.