The Guilty

(1947) The Guilty MYSTERY CRIME DRAMA

Adapted from Cornell Woolrich short story "Two Men in a Furnished Room" from "Detective Fiction Weekly" with the narrator Mike Carr (Don Castle) narrating both the story and the events when one of the 2 twin sisters (Linda to be exact), both played by Bonita Granville is murdered all pointing to her spouse, Johnny Dixon (Wally Cassell)as the guilty suspect evading the police. And of course, the surviving twin, Estelle Mitchell helps Mike Carr since him and Johnny used to serve one another get involve into uncovering the murder. A moderate entertaining thriller that keeps viewers guessing until the very end.

It's hard not be a little jaded about this from the outset. For at least a couple decades, kindred features were a nickel a dozen as they starred a dark-haired, white male actor as a protagonist whose voice was grizzled and weary, but not altogether haggard, and who dressed themselves with a long coat and a wide-brim hat. Opening narration has Mike remarking on how this street remains unchanged after so much time, and then we learn he means a mere six months. Then we start to wonder whether it's just us, or maybe either an accident of birth or the intention of contemporary filmmakers, that makes most every actor sound alike and speak with an almost indistinguishably similar cadence and timbre in the 40s (if not also the 50s, and 30s). More substantively, I would argue that the script (not least the narration) and John Reinhardt's direction feel kind of imprecise to me as the minutes start to tick by, if not outright sloppy in places, and all of a sudden I'm not so sure about the prospects of 'The guilty' to hold up over time.

There remain enough issues throughout for me to stand by my initial impression, including sometimes unconvincing treatment of relationships between men and women, or treatment that's even more dubious than it's meant to be, and even something as small as the normal life of protagonist Mike (are we really supposed to believe he's a student?). In fairness, though, maybe I'm too cynical for my own good, for the plot begins to pick up more with a certain phone call a little before the one-third mark. The tension is palpable as the grim drama mounts - and just as importantly, helping to balance out the more questionable choices, there are splendid details along the way that make the narrative feel a tad sharper. Just as much to the point, when the ending rolls around and all is revealed, there's just enough cleverness in Robert Presnell Sr.'s screenplay, adapting Cornell Woolrich's story, to make us want to possibly watch again and see it with a new perspective. I don't think that new perspective alters the indelicacies or lesser first impressions that we get along the way, but when all is said and done this flick shows itself to have a bit more meat on its proverbial bones than one may be inclined to assume from the beginning.

In other regards it's not necessarily a picture to write home about. The acting is good, but doesn't specifically stand out, and much the same goes for the contributions of the crew behind the scenes. Rudy Schrager's music ranges from suitable to arguably overwrought; Jodie Copelan's editing is fine, except for some instances that are perhaps a tad cliché. And so on, and so on. At the end of the day I do like 'The guilty' and I think it's reasonably worthwhile - with the caveat that it's hardly some revelation, and it is probably the type of movie best reserved for a lazy, relaxing day. So long as one can get on board with the more unremarkable and prototypical side of film noir and is just looking for something relatively light, this is good enough to earn a soft recommendation.

Don Castle is sharing a cheap room with his ex-lieutenant from the army, Wally Cassell. Castle is studying on the G. I. Bill. Cassell drinks a lot. Each is dating Bonita Granville, but it's all right, since she's twins in this movie. One is nice, the other is nasty. Then the nice one gets murdered, and detective Regis Toomey is on the case.

This being derived from a Cornell Woolrich story, it's surprising the guys aren't twins also; it would have saved on actors' salaries, although the process shots might have eaten up the difference. Miss Granville -- soon to become the wife of Jack Wrather, the producer of this movie -- is doubled by showing the back of another actress, or having her voice come from offscreen.

Of course, many odd possibilities arose in my mind. Did one sister kill the other, and then masquerade as the victim? What is John Litel doing in the cast? I started out confused, and even after the ending, I was still confused, because this was directed by John Reinhardt, who liked to throw in every film noir trope whether it should be there or not. Always watchable for the sake of Woolrich's sick symbolism, it's not one of the best noirs I've seen.

Decent noir that captures Cornell Woolrich's world of isolated, tortured men and the women over whom they obsess. Love the fact that it's all shot at night since nothing weakens this genre more than too much light, literally and otherwise. Congrats to cinematographer Henry Sharpe. And I must say I did not see the denouement coming until it was almost upon me, so congrats to scenarist Robert Presnell, as well.

Problems center around the rather languid pacing, for which director John Reinhardt must take the fall. Too much of the film, undoubtedly trying to communicate Woolrich's sense of moral deadness, itself feels half dead. And Don Castle, the "poor man's Clark Gable" who is actually more like Lee Bowman's kid brother, is, to put it mildly, not a skilled enough actor to enliven the somnolent proceedings. I will say, however, that Bonita Granville does a credible job of portraying a femme poised between fatale and decent. And Regis Toomey's somewhat smarmy cop is so good that I wish he'd been in the film more.

Bottom line: I've seen a lot worse noirs. Give it a B minus.

Bonita Granville was an extremely talented younger actress, as was clear from 'The Beloved Brat' (1938) and the four Nancy Drew films she made, for instance. She had a special charm and directness which was most refreshing. Here she is, somewhat older, playing identical twins in an extremely low-budget noir thriller produced by her husband Jack Wrather. The sets are so cheap, it seems as if a puff of wind would blow them down, and they are bleak as well, perhaps on purpose to make the atmosphere one of desolation. She is certainly cast against type, since the main twin whom she plays is a bad girl, and Bonita was famous for being a sweetie pie. However, it works, and she proves she can be as sultry and venomous as any gal if she wants to, and she does want to. The two guys are Don Castle and Wally Cassell, which reminds me that Louis Ferdinand-Celine wrote a novel the English title of which is 'Castle to Castle', not bad for this situation, if we change it to 'Cassell to Castle', as one twin passes between the two guys. This is a very powerful and effective noir story with its twists and grisly side. As it is 1947, there is a guy suffering from serious shell-shock, holding his face in his hands and saying: 'I'm going to crack up completely again, like I did the first time'. There are desperate undercurrents of insane jealousy and passion, a disappearance and murder, seething resentments and kisses that are more like football touchdowns, they are so rough. For something made for ten dollars, this is a really good thriller. The voice-over narrative works extremely well, and the whole thing is a knockout if you can forgive the fact that somebody along the way forgot about the need for production values. Anyway, there's Bonita, and you even get two for the price of one.