Alias Nick Beal

Rarely spotted on TV even by midweek insomniacs, brushed aside even by aficionados of the Hollywood past, Alias Nick Beal is a top-notch movie that puzzlingly languishes in limbo. It's an unusual but successful cross of the supernatural fantasy films popular in the forties – like Here Comes Mr. Jordan, Heaven Can Wait, The Devil and Daniel Webster – with the grittier conflicts of the big-city exposés in film noir.

Thomas Mitchell, a progressive and muckraking mayor, won't rest easy until he eradicates corruption from his unnamed town. But incriminating ledgers detailing the graft of a rival political-machine boss have been burned. Mitchell gets a call asking for a mysterious meeting at a waterfront bar, The China Coast Café, where, like a wraith out of the harbor fogs, materializes Ray Milland. Ordering Barbados rum (with its voodooish connotations), he introduces himself as Nick Beal, which seems to be the short Americanization of Beelzebub. He offers Mitchell the pristine ledgers, from which the mayor can nail down a conviction and propel himself to the governor's mansion; trouble is, now he's stuck with the sinister Beal.

Unflappable in his suavity, Milland stays pitchfork-perfect in his scheme to strip Mitchell of his honesty and ideals. He enlists the help of bar floozie Audrey Totter, who turns herself into Mitchell's Gal Friday and diverts his affections from his wife (and conscience) Geraldine Wall. And every time Mitchell thinks he's compromised his principles for the last time or struck his final dirty bargain, in slithers Milland with another twist of the knife, a brand-new temptation. Finally elected to the statehouse, Mitchell finds that he's sold his soul to the very forces that he had always fought...

Alias Nick Beal has to be, hands down, the most sure-footed movie John Farrow ever directed; he never slips in sustaining its spectral look or precarious tone. Totter, too, excels in a part that tests her range, from a cat-fighter in a sleazy dive through efficient political aide to repentant cat's-paw. This may be her most fetching performance, particularly in her drunken exchange with a bartender: `What time is it?' `You just asked me that.' `I didn't ask you what I just asked you, I asked you what time it is.' Mitchell and Milland can't be faulted at the top of a cast that includes George Macready as a preacher who can't quite place Milland: `Have you ever had your portrait painted?' he gingerly inquires. `Yes – by Rembrandt in 1655," comes the smug retort. (The screenplay is by Jonathan Latimer, who also penned The Glass Key, Nocturne, They Won't Believe Me, Night Has A Thousand Eyes, and The Big Clock.)

This morality tale about the seduction and fall of a promising politician echoes themes explored in the same year's All The King's Men but adds a fanciful metaphysical dimension. That may look like a cop-out, a way to avoid tackling the issues realistically, but the metaphysics can be seen as metaphorical – Satan can be a symbol (and as Macready remarks, maybe he knows it's the twentieth century, too). Whatever one's take on The Spirit That Denies, the movie survives triumphantly on its own terms – the splendid and satisfying Alias Nick Beal doesn't deserve the obscurity that has come to enshroud it.

Alias Nick Beal (1949)

A nice discovery! I'd never heard of this film, though I pride myself on following the noirs that are out there (mostly on TCM these days, having used up all the DVD released films). If you start with some doubt in the overly dramatic beginning credits (lightning, rain, and a Waxman score that is over the top), don't quit. We get a classic noir voice over by leading man Ray Milland, and then we're in the classic noir milieus.

Thomas Mitchell is at first the main man, and he's great in his inimitable way (though always better in supporting roles). And other character actors fill in the scenes as we see a man ready to run for governor and a whirlwind of corruption and wheeling around him. This doesn't sound like a noir, actually, but call it a crime and suspense film. It's good, moves fast, keeps an edge.

Milland shares the lead, entering on a foggy dock as the music turns dour. Cinematographer Lionel Linden has a field day with dramatic light and atmosphere (he's most famous for "Manchurian Candidate," though see "Blue Dahlia" for starters.) And he helps a lot because the movie is otherwise a kind of clever drama. There is one trick behind it all, which I can't mention, and you might not buy into it (and it certainly makes this a weird noir, and maybe even a weird crime film). But it makes it original in all the dark interiors and night scenes.

So what makes the film not quite click? One is Milland, who is stiff and dry (as usual). The other is Mitchell, who has a wonderful ease on camera but who doesn't have the bearing of a powerful man—a savvy top notch prosecutor who is being swept into high end politics. And the "trick" to it all makes it less worldly and gritty than this kind of scenario needs. It is overall a kind of Faust story—the devil tempting a good man who is willing to "sell his soul" to do the right thing.

And what of Audrey Totter, you ask? Yes, she's the usual wonderful "dame," the femme fatale with airs, in this case. Her role is too small and too restrained, however. In fact, maybe everyone is restrained, a bit, not rising to the level of the visuals, which are not a bit restrained.

That Hollywood ending? Read your Faust.

The Faust legend gets yet another retelling in modern post war America with Thomas Mitchell as an honest District Attorney looking for evidence to convict a racketeer. A conviction in this case will propel him to higher office.

Into the story walks a gentleman named Nicholas Beal played with intensity by Ray Milland. The account books supposedly destroyed Milland says he can produce and produce them he does. Of course Mitchell is grateful and Milland becomes part of his inner circle.

With Mitchell now being talked about for the governorship, Milland incurs the mistrust of all around him including Mitchell's wife Geraldine Wall and the Reverend George MacReady. MacReady who himself has played many a sinister character on the big and small screen knows sinister when he sees it. In fact he's the first to recognize Milland for what he is.

When a man's influence doesn't work Milland plants Audrey Totter in Mitchell's circle. This is a whole lot like the way Ray Walston used Gwen Verdon to get at Tab Hunter in Damn Yankees. Only this is far more serious.

Ray Milland who before The Lost Weekend played all kinds of light parts was now getting heavier dramatic fare in his career and handling it most successfully. He's probably at his most menacing on the screen in Alias Nick Beal.

As for Mitchell for once he didn't die on the screen. Years ago I had a teacher who said that Thomas Mitchell had to have the record for screen deaths in major motion pictures. Although I can think of a few in addition to this one like Stagecoach and It's A Wonderful Life where he lived until the final end credits, I think the man that taught me might have had something. Mitchell is fine as a man desperately trying to do the right thing and having to contend with his own ambitions at the same time.

Paramount normally did not go in for noir films, but in this case they produced one with classic satanic overtones. In the end Milland makes a rather interesting confession as the film ends. It explains his attitude and his character.

I'd make it a point to check it out.

Thomas Mitchell (Foster) wants to run for Governor and rid the town of corruption, but corrupt Fred Clark (Faulkner) stands in his way. Enter Ray Milland (Nick Beal). Milland can offer Mitchell what he needs to take power.

Tony Blair's PR spin-doctor Alastair Campbell is obviously the inspiration for this film. Milland plays the role of domineering adviser to Thomas Mitchell, and Milland gets his way. The cast are all good in this film, with fallen girl Audrey Totter (Donna) getting a special mention – she is funny, intuitive and tragic all at the same time. I thought the film was a bit talky at the beginning but it does seem necessary in order to set the scene. And there certainly is an air of mystery when Milland appears. There are various good scenes, my favourite being when Totter ends up speaking the dialogue that she has just rehearsed with Milland. At first she dismisses Milland for talking nonsense, but there comes a moment when she is with Mitchell and she realizes what is happening. Some of the rehearsed dialogue did not make sense to her when first repeated. But it all fits now. It's well acted and directed and it's the most memorably chilling moment for me. Good direction, effective camera shots and a good music score round out the other film highlights.

So, if you fancy running for any kind of position of power in the political arena, just remember to carry a bible with you……..or there may be trouble.

A variation on the Faust theme, Thomas Mitchell plays an honest politician who is tempted with the state governorship if he follows the political advice given to him by a mysterious stranger who emerges from the fog (Milland). Among other things, Milland has the ability to predict, word for word, the exact dialogue that will occur between two people in a future conversation.?

It seamlessly blends political drama, noir and Val Lewton-esque psychological horror. Ray Midland's portrayal is restrained, without sacrificing any of Nick Beal's monstrous evil. The subtle, malevolent smile on Milland's face as Thomas Mitchell's Foster has his epiphany reveals that, perhaps, Nick Beal is truly omnipotent. He's thought of everything, and there's no escape for poor Foster. The screenplay by Jonathan Latimer is outstanding. When Nick lectures Foster that in politics, and life, there are no absolutes, just shades of gray, I can't help but think of Broadcast News and Albert Brooks' speech about the devil - "What do you think the devil's going to look like if he's around? ... Nobody is going to be taken in by a guy with a long, red, pointy tail!"??

The ending was a tad heavy-handed, but appropriate for the times. Audrey Totter was her usual terrific self. And George Macready is miles away from his sleazy character in Gilda. Director John Farrow, along with the production design, music by Franz Waxman and Lionel Lindon's chiaroscuro cinematography create a feeling of inescapable dread.