Guilty Bystander

Max Thursday (Zachary Scott) is an alcoholic former cop living in a rundown hotel owned by his friend Smitty. He gets a visit from his ex-wife Georgia. Her brother Fred Mace and their son Jeff are missing. Apparently, Jeff has been kidnapped and Fred is somehow involved.

This is a harsh pulpy noir. Zachary Scott is acting with all his chops. It has the brutality and hard-talk for the standard noir B-movie. The story isn't much but it functions well enough. I like many of the New York City exteriors. They're low rent and outside the normal glamor locations. I would like better for the action but it's still the old style. It's an old noir crime B-movie.

This movie presents a curious case. It obviously was made on a rock-bottom budget (and looks it); its plot -- about a kidnapped boy -- is as hard to follow as The Big Sleep's, without any of that movie's big-studio glamour and high gloss; and prints of the movie in circulation, with poor sound and visuals, don't help its reputation either. Nonetheless, Guilty Bystander has a few very strong points in its favor. Chief among them is the old pro Mary Boland as Smitty, the proprietress of a fleabag hotel several notches below the threshold of respectability; she's a scheming old battleax who has more going on under her unkempt wisps of grey hair than she wants her cronies and go-fers to know. Next there's Zachary Scott, as Max Thursday, an ex-cop now sleeping off benders in the same fleabag, where he's kept on as the house dick; an underrated actor, he invests his loser's role with a painful intensity, stumbling and limping from skid row to waterfront to warehouse in pursuit for the son he hasn't seen in years. As his ex-wife and mother of the kidnapped boy, Faye Emerson (Mrs. Elliott Roosevelt to you), brings more than her fabled bone structure to the part. In fact, with better acting than you have any right to expect (plus an unrelentingly depressing milieu), Guilty Bystander is more than a curio; it's as if the cast knew what a lousy movie they signed up for and decided to go for broke anyway.

Watchable microbudget noir shot largely on location in New York City and taking maximum advantage of subway stations, back alleys, and warehouse districts. The story is hard to follow, even though the big reveal - the identity of the mysterious St. Paul - is pretty easy to guess. Longtime character actor Jesse White makes a brief appearance as an unsuccessful pickup artist at a bar.

I was surprised to see Dmitri Tiomkin credited with the score on such a small movie. I was even more surprised by how much I disliked the score. To me, it felt all wrong for noir - overblown and portentous even when nothing much is happening, excessively romantic and "pretty" at odd (almost random) moments. It's a rare case of film music that seems to have little to do with the action on the screen.

Another reviewer wonders how this movie ended up on a list of the best 250 films noir. I know how. If you make a list of 250 (!) noirs, you'll be including basically all of them. Hollywood made a lot of noirs, but certainly not 250 that qualify as the "best" of anything.

"Guilty Bystander" is neither the best nor the worst of the genre, but there are worse ways to spend an hour and a half.

Incidentally, I'd like to think that when "Dragnet" was taking shape in his mind, Jack Webb saw this movie and thought, "Max Thursday, hmm? Maybe tweak it just a little ..."

I originally saw this movie on TV back in the fifties. I was in my teens and up until then my primary interest in films was for Disney and big budget Hollywood musicals, lots of flash and flair. After seeing Guilty Bystander I soon began to turn on to films like The Maltese Falcon, Woman in the Window and Angel Face. These films did not give me that happy feeling but rather kept me leaning forward in my chair. When they were over I didn't feel gratified and satisfied; I felt unsettled but mentally stimulated. Noir films are about people in trouble. The hero, or rather the protagonist, is deeply flawed. He is not a nice guy. However, he is kind of admirable. He overcomes his flaws and sets things to right. In Guilty Bystander the hero is an ex-cop named Max Thursday. He is an alcoholic who could not stand up to the demands of being a police officer and quit to become a private eye but couldn't handle that either. When his ex-wife informs him that their son has apparently been kidnapped, he is forced to come to grips with some very unpleasant truths about himself and people he thought he knew. The film checks a lot of the boxes to qualify as noir but it also has a number of failings. There are plots holes and much of the acting is clumsy. Scott as Thursday occasionally embarrasses himself but mostly projects well as a man trying hard to play a bad hand while not fully understanding the game. The film is based on the first of six novels featuring Thursday. The author was Wade Miller, a pseudonym for two guys who wrote a lot of noir crime fiction beside those six. They were probably as good as Raymond Chandler and his Phillip Marlowe character but never were as big a name, nor as well known today. I don't know if this film had anything to do with their lack of success in Hollywood or not but it's a pity that we don't have as much of Thursday as we do of Marlowe.

I think what I like about this film is while its structure certainly reeks of noir style, its execution strays from it. There's little sentimentality here; and even in "classic" noir, sentimentality is there if you look hard enough and know when to spot it. This film is like a 180 from that.

For me, it's gritty and grinding. There's a certain, relentless quality to it. There's also a strong sense of dread and drudgery permeating almost every scene. On the outset, it offers virtually no hope for the damned.

I personally found the acting top drawer. Zachary Scott totally surprised me with his consistency and devotion to the role; and Mary Boland delivers the goods wholeheartedly, reminding me of the caliber of Esther Howard's performance in Born To Kill. Fay Emerson's performance was solid but not exemplary.

This is for die-hard noir fans only. A small majority will focus on its flaws; the rest of us will revel in its restored--literally--glory. Get over the ending upfront.