Under-Cover Man

It's a pretty good story but not that good a film. The problem is that never feels alive, nobody seems real, there's nothing to engage with but it still keeps your attention.

Undercover Man is the best track on VDGG's Godbluff album (1975) and is a lot more interesting than this film.

If you not sure whether George Raft is the most wooden actor of Hollywood's golden age then this will confirm your worst suspicions. The plot however keeps him busy enough for you not to notice his acting limitations. The plot is pretty good and could have been the basis of a fantastic movie had it been made by a different director with a different cast and a different scriptwriter. Besides George Raft (who for some reason have had a huge fan-base) and David Landau (who makes George Raft seem like Laurence Olivier), the other problem is that nobody is at all likeable. You couldn't care less what happens to them.

Nancy Carroll wasn't flavour of the month at Paramount by the time she was in this, she wanted meatier dramatic roles, she believed she was too good for these run of the mill type movies - her lack of enthusiasm shows in this and it didn't do much for her career. Nevertheless she was a good actress (as she showed in DEVIL'S HOLIDAY and BROKEN LULLABY) and is one of the few people in this picture who manages to seem like real person.

George Raft gives one of his most disconnected and wooden performances as a hustler whose father is killed. He goes to the police and asks if he can go undercover to help them deal with the rash of securities robberies that's hooked into the situation. Some one has been hitting the runners who carry large sums of cash and bearer bonds.

While Raft looked good, his acting was always a bit, ah, subtle for my taste, and leaving him under the supervision of programmer director James Flood can't have helped; Gregory Ratoff and Nancy Carroll seem disconcerted at all times. Flood had grown up in the same neighborhood as William Beaudine, and lived near him in California. He had a decent, if minor career as a movie director from 1921 through 1937, and was working as a director of the syndicated RACKET SQUAD shortly before his death at 57 in 1953.

I entertained no great hopes for Raft's "Under-Cover Man" (1932), as it was directed by James Flood, co-helmer of the absolutely dreadful Mr Antonio (1929) and excruciatingly dull Wings in the Dark (1934). But, surprise, surprise! This one has some great action, snappy dialogue and good acting. True, there are at least three scenes that don't quite come off, despite the energetic efforts of the players, due to Flood's lax pacing and timing. Raft is in good form, although the director often allows David Landau, Roscoe Karns, Lew Cody and Gregory Ratoff to steal his scenes. And you can see why Nancy Carroll's career faded. She refused to wear Travis Banton's slinky costumes and insisted on adding a lot of fluffy clutter to the more homey designs of his assistant, Edith Head. As a result, it's Noel Francis, rather than Carroll who attracts all the attention here.

There are lots of good pieces in "Under-Cover Man" - solid cast, good plot, sections of good dialogue. But the directing and editing keep this from rising to the level it could have achieved. The cops are stymied by a series of Financial District thefts, and Inspector Conklin (David Landau) is particularly frustrated when murder becomes part of the M.O. Nick Darrow (George Raft), the son of one of the victims, is a petty criminal but asks the cops if he can go undercover to break up the gang and find the killer. He enlists help from Lora (Nancy Carroll), the sister of another victim, to con the conmen and get inside. It's a good story with complicated sidebars. There is a sensuous underbelly to some of the proceedings, and a consistent feeling of danger. The end is a bit abrupt, but that's OK. Raft is excellent as Nick a.k.a. Ollie Snell, playing cool with the criminals while letting the audience know his anxiety. Carroll fared best in romantic comedies, but she's suitable here. Noel Francis is quite good as an easy dame putting the moves on Nick. Gregory Patoff and Lew Cody are hatably smarmy as the ringleaders. And always watch out for Roscoe Karns. Problem is, James Flood was never a good director. He had a good eye for angles - and that comes through here - but seemed to know nothing about pacing a scene or shooting dialogue. Actors are left to meander through wordy sections, and there's no crisp editing to clean it up. In the end, a film that could have been a stand out is simply cosi-cosi.