Crack-Up

Crack-Up is directed by Irving Reis and collectively written by John Paxton, Ben Bengal and Ray Spencer from Fredric Brown's story Madman's Holiday. It stars Pat O'Brien, Claire Trevor, Herbert Marshall, Ray Collins, Wallace Ford and Dean Harens. Music is by Leigh Harline and cinematography by Robert De Grasse.

Art curator George Steele (O'Brien) believes he has been in a train crash, but he's told that no such crash has occurred. Is he cracking up, or the victim of something sinister?

I'm not trusting anyone this week.

Out of RKO, Crack-Up is an above average film noir that is apparently under seen. It thrusts George Steele on a crusade to prove he is not losing his mind and on his way to residency at Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital. As he trawls around the city with a foggy head, his thoughts still remembering his service in WWII, he tosses off sarcastic quips and evades tricky situations with guile and ingenuity. Who can he trust though? If anybody?

I'm outta my head. I drive around in cars picking up psychopathic killers.

His journey encompasses a number of locations that are expertly born out for noirish purpose. Smokey steam train, dimly lighted station, a ship of many murky corners, the harbour as well, a penny arcade and of course many damp streets at night that are ripe for conversations; both hushed and threatening. With Reis (The Gay Falcon) and De Grasse (The Body Snatcher) using chiaroscuro effects, the atmosphere is suitably eerie, dovetailing perfectly with George's psychologically paranoid funk.

About as smart as cutting my throat to get some fresh air!

Set to the backdrop of the art world, the narrative has an opinion on art styles and snobbery while wrapping the plot around the crooked line of forgeries. It's not wholly successful for dramatic worth or intrigue, and in fact the visual presentation and very good performances of O'Brien and Trevor deserve a more cohesive story and a motive revelation of the crimes considerably stronger in substance.

However, with its technical attributes most positive, some very well constructed scenes (the train crash sequence is excellent) and noir staples in place (amnesia, shady characters, sleuthing for truth et al), Crack-Up is well worth checking out. 7/10

Atmospheric both in Visual Style and Dialog this Film-Noir is One that was Made just at the End of WWII and there are many Lines that Cynically Reference the Conflict with a Snap-Patter that is a Noir Trademark. There are Many Noir Flourishes to Enjoy in this Murky Plot. Amnesia, Drug Induced Mind Control, Low-Brow Settings like a Penny Arcade in Mix with High-Brow Museum Art.

Pat O'Brien does His best as a Slightly Miscast and Overaged Lover that Requires some Physical and Emotional Stretches. But when He is not Romanticizing or Climbing Walls, it Works.

The Highlights of the Film are Noir. The Surreal Train Sequences, the Creepy Docks, and the Night Time Exteriors are Layered in Shadows and Render Foreboding Scenes. A Strong Cast and a Visually Arresting Movie with some Great Quotable Noir Dialog Elevate this Above a Muddled Plot. It is a Crackerjack Film-Noir and One that has been Mostly Ignored and Given Only Cursory Consideration.

Note...Film-Noir was an Organic Style that was Subconsciously Spawned Unknowingly by its Creators in a Collective Conceit Formed Unintentionally by the Artists who Drew from the Ether and Manifested a Sub-Genre of Movie-Making that has Endured. It is was not Pre-Fabricated and that Honesty is Forever On Display in a Genre, that was only Realised After the Fact, and it took French Film Critics to Piece it Together and Fans have been Thankful Ever Since.

Pat O'Brien was wonderful supporting actor. Having him as your lead was kind of unusual -- not to mention having him play an expert in art. He does a great job, though, as does the whole cast. Claire Trevor, in a way, is the only major name actor. Ray Collins is good but maybe not up to the pivotal role he plays. In a small part, Mary Ware is very effective.

Charlie Chan movies occasionally involved art thefts or forgeries. Of course, there is the black bird in "The Maltese Falcon." But generally, this is an unusual setting for a film noir, which this definitely is.

It's tense but maybe not so tense as it might be. I like Hitchcock but do not worship at his feet. Whoever, had he directed this, it could have been a tight, thrilling picture. He'd have story-boarded it all before filming and we'd have been on the edge of our seats as ti played out.

He didn't, of course, and it's still a really good movie. It's noir with a highbrow twist, just as "Red Light" -- which I haven't seen in 15 years and wish would turn up -- is noir with a religious setting.

The title of Irving Reis' Crack-Up sums up two elements of its plot: the wreck of a train carrying Pat O'Brien and the psychotic episode he throws in its aftermath. He gives lectures at a New York museum, demystifying art for the masses, who obligingly moan reverently at Monet but hoot derisively at Dali. When a phone call (sick mother) summons him upstate, he boards a train on which he freezes like a deer in the headlamp of a renegade engine hurtling straight at him. Oddly, he survives, but upon his return hurls a fire extinguisher through the gallery doors, assaults a policeman, and babbles incoherently about the accident. Trouble is, Mom's in fine fettle, and there was no crash.

The movie joins him in sorting out the dramatic turns his life has taken. Helping him is Claire Trevor, a fixture in Manhattan art-snob circles. Herbert Marshall purports to help, too, but he keeps his cards close to his vest. Quite candidly not much help are the museum's board and its snooty benefactors, among them Ray Collins, who were never keen about the democratic spirit O'Brien breathed into their mausoleum and use his erratic behavior to halt his series of light-hearted talks. The police, too, have a stake; O'Brien did, after all, throw that punch....

One of the felicities of Crack-Up is that it takes its canvases seriously, putting them at the core of the story. (A similar respect for art, music and theater, and for audiences assumed to have some acquaintance with them, routinely elevated films of the 1940s; times, plainly, have changed.) Of course monetary rather than esthetic value drives the villains here, as O'Brien slowly uncovers an international art scam, which is why he was derailed in the first place.

The train crash itself – a very scary sequence, brilliantly handled by Reis – emerges, in the final wrapping-up, as the weakest point of the movie, a baroque twist too far-fetched to convince. Because of this contrivance, the movie cleaves to the over-plotted mysteries of the 1930s and early 1940s rather than to the emergent noir cycle that, in its look and many of its devices, it otherwise resembles. But then there's the always toothsome Claire Trevor, whose ensembles take inspiration from the uniforms of the just-won war; festooned in military braid and berets, she tilts the scales towards noir. Either way, Crack-Up offers some suspenseful fun spiked with a surprising note of sophistication.

Art critic O'Brien is menaced by unseen forces and must find out who and why.

No doubt about it, that train wreck scene is brilliantly conceived and edited. In fact, the whole train sequence amounts to an atmospheric triumph. Catch the passenger car interior when O'Brien opens the door—it fairly oozes closed-in flesh, along with that shrewish wife scolding her hubby on the evils of drink. Few films manage a truly memorable sequence, but this one does.

Otherwise, it's a decent noir, though I agree it's also over-plotted and under-explained. Plus, many of those many narrow escapes are simply too contrived to stick. The movie's more one of compelling parts than a successful whole. Nonetheless, O'Brien handles his part in suitably restrained fashion, besides few actors were better at "drop dead" brush-offs, of which he gets to do several. Looks like the normally fast-talking Irishman was refashioning his image to align with the post-war crime drama craze.

But my money's on the great Ray Collins. Was there ever a smoother actor, from Citizen Kane (1941) to TV's Perry Mason of the 50's and 60's. Here, he delivers in sinister spades. Then there's poor Mary Ware as the loyally devious secretary. I'm sure she was cast for her totally innocent demeanor and looks, the better to hook the audience. But then, oh my gosh, she has to speak her lines.

The movie's subtext is in line with the war's common effort and everyman spirit. The villains act as properly outspoken elitists, first cousins presumably of the recently defeated Nazi's. At the same time, I thought art critic O'Brien's little lecture on the role of "art is what I like" made good sense.

All in all, it's a strongly visual, if somewhat turgid, noir that probably did train travel no favors.