Morir al alba

"The Flame" stars John Carroll, a second-tier actor who made a living mostly playing sleazy or cocky guys. In many ways, he's Republic studio's answer to Dan Duryea. In the second lead is Vera Ralston, the girlfriend of the head of the studio that made the picture. While her Czech accent was problematic, she was pretty good in this movie...although she has a reputation as a terrible actress who only got to where she did because of her connections. Regardless, she's good in this picture.

The story begins with George (John Carroll) shooting someone to death. In the process, he himself is shot. Soon, he phones the police to report the killing...and then the film goes into flashback mode where it stays most of the picture. Oddly, occasionally the viewpoint changes from his to his ex-girlfriend (Ralston)...something that seems sloppy when they both address the camera. In other words, is it his story to tell or hers? Regardless, the tale is about blackmail and it's an odd case where another blackmailer discovers the blackmail and begins to blackmail the original blackmailer! What exactly is going on here? Watch the film.

Despite the changing narration and Ralston's odd accent (she's supposed to be French...but just sounds Czech), the plot is quite engaging and the film is very well written considering it comes from Republic...a studio mostly known for B-movies...and mostly with cowboys. It is a very unique film...one that is excellent for folks who want to see something gritty and different.

By the way, although Victor Sen Yung was not a big-time actor, mostly assigned to secondary roles such as playing sons for Charlie Chan, here he really showed his talents in a scene late in the movie. A tiny scene...but an amazingly well acted one.

"The Flame" is a dark but disappointingly routine melodrama of the seen-it-a-million-times-before variety. A French nurse, in cahoots with her sleazy American lover, agrees to marry his ailing half-brother in order to gain his wealth. Guess what -- she begins to fall for the bore (who whiles away the hours playing dirges on his Hammond organ).

John Auer was one of the more talented directors working in the B-movie mill of the 40s, and he injects the picture with enough visual panache to give it a professional veneer and subtle moodiness. But what can you do with this cast from hell -- particularly Vera Ralston, at her most wooden (her voice-over narration is practically indecipherable).

A couple of reels into the film, things briefly perk up when a young Broderick Crawford unexpectedly slides into the narrative as a dour potential blackmailer who gets wise to the scam. Even better, his sometime girlfriend is a sexy cabaret performer played by the always fascinating Constance Dowling -- her Gilda-style song and dance routine gives Auer a chance to show his licks. But the brittleness all dissolves pretty quickly into some very unwelcome sentimentality towards the end.

This is told by way of the reading of a letter that explains the story of how "George" (John Carroll) has frittered away his family inheritance and is now dependent on his half-brother "Barry" (Robert Paige) - a situation which he bitterly resents. A solution to his predicament presents itself when he suggests that his girlfriend "Carlotta" (Vera Ralston) take up the position of nurse to the ailing "Barry". Their plan is quite simple, really. She befriends him, gets him to fall in love with her and then they marry. Once married, "Barry" will meet his end and she will be free to marry "George" and inherit the family fortune. It's not so much a flame this as a flicker. It's pretty obvious what's going to happen, and but for a few scenes with the scheming "Ernie" (Broderick Crawford) and Henry Travers as the well meaning "Dr. Mitchell" this story proves to not quite have the courage of it's convictions. It's all just a little too formulaic in the end. Blanche Yurka does her best impersonation of Queen Mary as his aunt "Blanche" - no fool, herself and Hattie McDaniel livens things up, sparingly, too - but sadly this all just goes the way of the damp squib after a promising start.

The Flame is an interesting test of the theory that in cinematic art, style matters more than story. If it does, The Flame should be a near masterpiece. Graced with a generous budget despite its Poverty Row origins, the movie offers complex camera moves (starting with its impressive opening shot), elegant lighting, slick art design, and first-rate cinematography. So it's a winner, right?

Meh, not so much. All that eye candy can't make up for a slow-paced, listless, overly familiar story, which generates no dramatic tension and little emotion of any kind, other than a quasi-religious sentimentality that seems weirdly out of place in a film of this genre.

The performances are okay, with Crawford the standout and the much-maligned Vera Ralston doing a capable job. But given the decent cast, high production value, and stylistic razzle-dazzle, The Flame should be a lot better than it is.

John H Auer was a major director at Republic Pictures and gave some good films, with the major star of the studio, John Carroll, who also served under Allan Dwann's direction. In this film noir, he is not brilliant but good enough to face Broderick Crawford, whom I did not expect in a Republic film. A classic story for a film noir, with a tepid Vera Ralston performance. Only the ending is very interesting, dark, gloomy and reminds me the end of LE DOULOS, from film maker Jean-Pierre Melville.