Meurtres à Calcutta

Alan Ladd and William Bendix are airline pilots based in Calcutta, flying the hump into China. They're surprised when fellow pilot John Whitney tells them he's going to get married. At first it looks like it's going to be a modern-dress version of GUNGA DIN. However, when they return to Calcutta, they find out Whitney is dead, with fiancee Gail Russell saddened by the news, and in possession of an $8,000 gem she says he gave her. He also had $35,000 in the bank, which is preposterous. With an assortment of exotic characters in the fringes and the police investigating, Ladd begins to poke around on his own.

It's a Maltese-Falcon sort of story, shot cheaply and accurately by John Farrow to appeal to Ladd's profitable audience -- so long as the budget didn't get out of control. It's shot mostly on interior sets, with one long shot of Ladd driving through the Paramount backlot, made up to look like Hollywood's idea of India.

Ladd always looks a little odd in these movies. His suits fit him, but seem to swim on him, and he keeps his lines short, clipped and just this side of surly, expressionless and with his lips barely moving, as if he were a ventrilogquist. The rest of the cast is filled out with minor names, although the crowd scenes are well stocked with extras. Seton Miller's script is serviceable, and it's another movie well turned out for all hands.

Neale Gordon (Alan Ladd), Pedro Blake (William Bendix), and Bill Cunningham are fellow pilots flying the mountain route between Chungking and Calcutta. Bill is newly engaged to Virginia Moore (Gail Russell) and gets murdered. His friends start digging.

This has a bit of exoticism. It has Alan Ladd. It has some noirish elements. Virginia should be played like the damsel in distress or even a femme fatale, but Gail Russell can only play her like a neighbor's wife. I also don't like her description of the relationship with Bill which cuts it down at the knees. For the exotic element, they are using too many Chinese people. It's supposed to be Calcutta after all. There is some good turns and Alan Ladd is playing up the noir. Mainly, I would like Gail to change her performance.

Calcutta is far from Alan Ladd's finest hour on the silver screen (nor director John Farrow's, for that matter). His trademark contempt for women and his android-like affect prove unappealing and tedious when not undercut by plausible psychology or fleshed-out co-stars. Here he has nothing but a murky Asian hodgepodge of noir cliches to wade through, the inevitable William Bendix at his side (and, this time, on his side). Trying to solve the murder of a fellow trunk-line pilot working the route from India to China, he drifts from hotel to casino to airfield encountering a rogues' gallery of grotesques. Edith King, as a stogie-puffing Baby Jane Hudson, promises more than she delivers; Gail Russell, the black widow of the piece, is kind of like Mary Astor to three parts water. This is one film from the noir cycle whose obscurity gives little cause for regret.

Routine mystery suffers from Ladd's seeming indifference to his character in the lead and Gail Russell's unsuitability for her role. Add into that the fact that they share almost no rapport on screen and it hurts the picture. Gail, a lovely actress whose looks had not been destroyed by her extreme alcoholism at this point, is too gentle a presence to be convincing as the sort of femme fatale that was Ladd's frequent partner, Veronica Lake's stock in trade. The best performance comes from supporting player Edith King, in her screen debut, as the shady but very fun Mrs. Smith who though it's never stated outright is obviously the local madame as well as involved in other shady doings. The picture comes to life whenever she enters the scene. It's a pity her role isn't larger. Otherwise this is a standard actioner, which despite the title could have been set anywhere since it's mostly set indoors, that the studios pumped out weekly to keep product in the theatres during the Golden Age.

Three buddies, who are commercial pilots based in Calcutta, regularly fly cargo across the Himalayas between India and China. When one of them is murdered, the other two set out to find the killer. Beginning with a suspicious bank deposit and a carved diamond pendant, the pair uncover the victim's mysterious fiancé, a suitcase full of jewels, and another murder. Set in an exotic location on Paramount Studio's back lot, director John Farrow's "Calcutta" looks fabulous and has a competent cast, but the story is little more than a routine whodunnit, highlighted by John F. Seitz's rich black-and-white cinematography. Despite a few colorful supporting characters along the way, the plot develops without surprises, and viewers will guess the villain and the outcome long before the hero does.

Not the most expressive of actors, Alan Ladd plays Alan Ladd in the guise of Neale Gordon, the pilot who investigates the murder of his friend; Gordon, who is already involved with a Russian singer, becomes intrigued by his buddy's fiancé, played by Gail Russell. Gail Russell is not all that expressive either, and Pedro Blake, the third pilot, is William Bendix as William Bendix. Fortunately, the parts are undemanding, and the emphasis is on action and unraveling the plot.

Nominated for seven Academy Awards over his career, Seitz lensed such classics as "Sunset Boulevard," " The Lost Weekend," and "Double Indemnity." Seitz made movie stars glow like movie stars, and, in this film, he lavished his attention on Alan Ladd's blonde good looks and, to a lesser extent, on Gail Russell's dark beauty. Ladd even whips off his shirt to give audiences a look at his trim abs, although he radiates his handsome best while dressed in a white dinner jacket. Fans of Alan Ladd will relish "Calcutta" and savor the opportunity to freeze-frame several glamor shots of the star that are literally breath taking. While the film is not bad, just predictable, "Calcutta" is passably entertaining and a sturdy vehicle for Paramount's reigning star of the 1940's, Alan Ladd.