Felonía

1951, the Kefauver congressional committee on organized crime and corruption is making headlines, and MGM under new head Dore Schary is trying to make that famously big-budget studio relevant to news of the day. The trouble is that the so-called Tiffany of studios just doesn't have the same feel for gritty material as a Warner Bros. or an RKO. Too bad this film doesn't sustain the harrowing feel of the first 15 minutes, when prominent editor Allridge (Pidgeon) is brutalized after a minor traffic infraction by corrupt Sheriff Burke (Gomez). Allridge's ordeal has the feel of a "sudden nightmare" to it, as if he's been abruptly forced into a savage new world where the old civilized rules no longer apply. It's a backwater county run by the sheriff like a private fiefdom and a jailhouse where inmates rule once the cell door slams shut. I like the way we're shown the difficulties state prosecutor Johnson (Hodiak) encounters in trying to rid the county of Burke and his outlaw regime.

Still and all, the longer the movie lasts, the more momentum it loses, ending with a final 20 minutes of plodding courtroom procedure. There's still some suspense in the air (why did Allridge skip town), but the initial energy has long since dissipated. At least part of the problem lies with uninspired direction that can't sustain the early sense of tension and evil. Too bad noir maestros like Phil Karlson or Anthony Mann weren't running the show. Those reviewers contrasting this film with Karlson's similar Phenix City Story are right on target. Nonetheless, the movie does have its moments, along with a vibrant turn from the under- rated Audrey Totter who never seemed to get the recognition her talent deserved.

This was something of a frustrating film, as although peopled with solid actors of reasonable note, it gives much evidence of being a holdover from the early talkie days of B films that ran about 62 minutes and left miles of storyline on the cutting room floor or just not filmed at all. At 83 minutes, it didn't have to be this way, but the films jumps days and weeks, and important events and storylines are mentioned after they have taken place offscreen and almost as an afterthought. For example, at one point, Hodiak mentions that 43 of 55 witnesses have reneged on their statements and/or on their willingness to testify, but that 43 number comes out of the blue after we have seen only one witness express some trepidation.

I should also add that much in this story seems reflective of my own experience. When I was in the army (1963-1965) a decade after this film, and stationed in Western Maryland, when driving there from New York, we were picked up more than once by police for speeding, having a light out, whatever, and instructed to drive behind the police vehicle to one of several (what looked like) county stores that had a set up in the back where someone (probably a minor judge) seemed to sit all night, just waiting for the cops to bring in miscreants like ourselves so that he could fine us $15 or $20 before sending us on our way. And this is how they treated the U.S. military ($78.11 a month pay). I can't imagine how others might have been treated (but certainly not as badly as in this film, I hope).

Anyway, the performances are all solid. Pidgeon kind of disappears a bit less than halfway through the film, and from that point on the real stars seem to be Hodiak, Malden, Gomez, Sloane and the always-excellent Audrey Totter, until Pidgeon comes back in near the end. The final courtroom scene holds the interest, and both Hodiak and Hugh Sanders (as the good judge and in, given its relative brevity, probably the best role he ever had; he gets to make the longest speech in the film) do well in it, but I was surprised to see Karl Malden billed 7th or 8th considering that he had just won a Supporting Actor AA for STREETCAR and, quite honestly, his is one of the larger roles in the film. And Frank Cady has maybe his best screen role, far larger than in the same year's HIGH NOON. Cameron Mitchell, in one of his first films, also doesn't have much to do, but his character is pivotal to the story.

All in all, an enjoyable little crime drams with a lot of holes in it, saved by the performances.

MGM wandered out of its league when it made "The Sellout" and the result is a mildly entertaining thriller that doesn't have much tension. All the pieces are in place -- Walter Pidgeon as a crusading newspaper editor, John Hodiak as a government sleuth, Audrey Totter as the sexy pianist at a sleazy roadhouse. But whereas Warner Bros. would have given the tale a hard edge, it comes up sorta' soft in Metro's hands. Perhaps the best performances in the film go to the villains, led by Thomas Gomez as a brutal, corrupt sheriff and Everett Sloane as his smarmy mouthpiece. They're fine. But something's not quite right when the villains stroll off with the movie.

The Sellout is a good B picture crime drama out of MGM using a solid heaping helping of their B picture contract players.

Newspaper editor Walter Pigeon and a friend Whit Bissell get caught up in a speedtrap in the rural part of the county they reside in. Given the Code was in place in 1951, I'm sure they would have been brutalized far more graphically in the jail of Thomas Gomez the corrupt sheriff of the county. Still and all it's enough to fill Pigeon with a firm resolve to get Gomez. Even without the help of local prosecutor Cameron Mitchell who is Pigeon's son-in-law.

But a crusading special prosecutor from the State Attorney General and an honest city cop played by John Hodiak and Karl Malden respectively get into the picture due to Pigeon's hard hitting articles. There's far more than a speedtrap involved. Then Pigeon's ardor suddenly cools.

I think that anyone who's seen a lot of movies can figure the ending out from here. But these are a good group of some of the best players around. One other reviewer mentioned that Audrey Totter's role as a woman of easy virtue is left up in the air. I would guess the editors had more to do with it than anything else.

Thomas Gomez delivers the best performance in the film. He's a viciously evil man and he drives his corrupt lawyer Everett Sloane crazy. Sloane tries very hard to fix things without violence or crudity. But Gomez just can't be controlled.

It's a good film, very much like The Phoenix City Story that would come along a few years later.

An enviable cast of noir veterans (John Hodiak, Audrey Totter, Walter Pidgeon, Thomas Gomez, Everett Sloane, and Karl Malden) tackling an all-American storyline - a newspaper crusades against municipal corruption - promises something above the ordinary. But The Sellout's promise, like cold fusion's, proves an inflated one; the movie never quite ignites.

An editor from a mid-sized city (Pidgeon), visiting his daughter's family in a neighboring county, drives into a speed trap. He's thrown into jail, subjected to a prisoners' kangaroo court, and fined the entire contents of his wallet. Once back, he launches a crusade against this hijacking of the law, lining up witnesses and publishing blistering editorials against Gomez, the sheriff, and county boss Sloane. Then, abruptly, he leaves town and the campaign ceases.

A prosecutor from the state capital (Hodiak) is sent to investigate; upon arrival, he's ambushed by a B-girl and shantoozie (Totter) who works at the machine's headquarters, a road house called Amboy's. Her philosophy of life is eloquent: (`Who makes plans? You do the best you can - Sometimes you wish things turned out differently.') But she grows sweet on him and warns him off. With the help of honest cop Malden, Hodiak tries to get to the bottom of the editor's silence, but everywhere encounters a stone wall. It turns out that the corruption runs very close to home....

Probably the biggest shortcoming of The Sellout is relegating Totter to a sub-plot that fizzles out too early; she lends the movie whatever quirky subversiveness it shows. For the most part, however, it's four-square - there's little visual excitement - and a little too self-important. Though crowded with incident, it ends up just plodding along. It's also rooted in a now (one hopes) vanished America where out in the boondocks, away from the bright lights of civilization, lurked pockets of unexpected peril. The billboards marking the city limits might have well warned: Beyond here lie monsters.