On Dangerous Ground

Nicolas Ray who directed a string of good films, most notably In a Lonely Place, Flying Leatjernecks and They live by Night and would become best known for Rebel Without a Cause directed this fine film-noir flick from 1952. He had taken the idea for the story based on the Gerald Butler novel Mad With Much Heart. Ray teamed with Albert Bezzerides for the screenplay who had written They Drive by Night, Desert Fury and Thieves Highway for the screen and would become best known in film for Kiss Me Deadly. He would become better known in television as the creator of the long running western series The Big Valley. Excellent photography in this film from cinematographer George E. Diskant. Robert Ryan is one of Hollywood's most underrated actors and in the staring role of a burnt out city cop on the road to redemption and awakening, turns in yet another great performance. Ida Lupino is another of my favorites and this time around plays a blind woman living alone in rural upstate Mew York. This is a film in two acts that are almost like tow separate films. Part one we find the Ryan character as a violent tough and over the edge cop who once was a popular high school football star and has become burned out in his job and dissatisfied with his lonely small apartment so he hates his job and his life away from work. The first half of the film is mostly night scenes. He is sent by his superiors to cool off in the frozen north and try to help solve a local murder. In the Ward Bond character as the Father of a murdered woman he meets someone even more angry and violent than he is. Bond delivers a strong supporting role performance. Rounding out the fine cast are Ed Begley, Charles Kemper and Anthony Ross. Famed, prolific composer Bernard Hermann provide the musical score. The story might be a little simplistic at times and predictable but it is still a strong film and I would give it an 8.5 out of 10.

Lovely is not a word I would normally use when describing a film noir, yet here I am, labeling On Dangerous Ground as a lovely piece of work. It is perhaps Nicholas Ray's most upbeat movie, beginning as a hard- hitting cop story and ending on a heartwarming note, with renewal and hopefulness at its beck and call. It is the only tender film noir I've seen. Genre turnarounds can be hurtful to the tone of a film, as no one wants to go to the theaters for a Will Ferrell vehicle only to find it sinking into tragedy rather than an uproariously funny closer. But by tying the pessimistic atmosphere of the first act into the neuroses of the title character, the shift in On Dangerous Ground is largely flattering, a difficult feat that Ray pulls off with unwavering certainty. He believes in the story, and, as a result, so do we.

Robert Ryan portrays Jim Wilson, a worn-out detective who is growing increasingly intolerant towards the disreputable scum he deals with on a regular basis. In past film noirs, cops as violent as Wilson would eventually go as far as murdering someone, spending the rest of the movie trying to make their wrongs into rights. But in On Dangerous Ground, it immediately becomes evident that Wilson is capable of saintly good nature but has been pushed over the edge by the constant surrounding sleaze.

After beating up a number of suspects during arrest, his precinct grows concerned and sends him away to the outskirts of town to investigate the murder of a young woman. Upon arrival, he finds a reflection of himself in the hateful family of the victim, and, during the investigation, falls for Mary Malden (Ida Lupino), the blind sister of the prime suspect who serves as a ray of light in his jet-black life. In theory, On Dangerous Ground should be clunky and awkward; yet, it is kind of brilliant. It looks and feels like a film noir, but that's only a disguise for the more touching instances of psychological study. Everything is presented in such a nonchalant, nearly conventional manner that the power it eventually bears is unexpectedly poignant. Only Ray could direct this sort of material; most do not have the same curious capacity to switch from the hard-boiled to the humane.

The contrast between the slick city streets and the snowy grounds of the more evangelical countryside are competently histrionic. As Wilson enters the fresh, cool landscape, a tidal wave of reversal falls upon us. In the first few minutes of the film, as we watch Wilson fight crime with boorish tenacity, the streets so usually enthralling in film noir turn into something uncomfortably grimy and greasy. Crime is like a horde of ants crawling up and down our arms. The countryside, though still the setting of a murder, has a comforting tranquility. Without people scattered in every nook and cranny, there is a chance to breathe. The entrance of Lupino is reminiscent to that of an angel falling out the sky; with no eyesight, she is unable to see the vile underpinnings of the world. Her kindness is a gift.

As Wilson's life converts from direly violent to one of prospect, there is something stirring that occurs that softened me more than I ever would have thought possible. In film noir, we're used to endless acerbity; it is rare that a character, a policeman who seems so destined to head down a dark path, is given a second chance. Throughout his career, Ryan was mostly typecast as a villain with a booming voice, but in On Dangerous Ground he is given a chance to be expressive and sensitive. It is a surprisingly wistful performance, connecting with ease towards the delicate, soul-baring Lupino.

On Dangerous Ground has been pushed aside as a minor work from the illustrious Nicholas Ray (The Big Heat, Rebel Without a Cause), but it's nevertheless shimmering all these years later. Its audacious attempts to subvert the norms of such a specific genre are absorbingly moving.

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The Nicholas Ray-A.I. Bezzerides On Dangerous Ground is a modestly budgeted film that tries to be different, and succeeds. Tough, brutal city cop Robert Ryan is sent upstate to help solve a murder case, and also to be got rid of, since he seems to be on the verge of mental breakdown. Along the way he runs into a blind woman, the father of the murdered teen, and a few locals. This is the bare bones of the story, such as it is, which on the surface appears mundane. But writer Bezzerides and director Ray were up to other things, and the crime picture trappings of this film are deceptive. The movie is really about that most modern of issues, alienation, and more generally, anomie, the feeling of displacement, namelessness, uselessness, that so many people have in such a fast-paced and mechanized society as ours. Ryan's character is a solitary, apparently celibate cop, who loves no one, and doesn't even like his job. He has a sense of morality, which is maybe what keeps him going. It also, alas, gets him into hot water with his superiors when he punches out one too many suspects, which is the reason for his being sent upstate, to Siberia, as he puts it. Ida Lupino, the blind woman he falls for, is equally isolated, but more serene. Her intuition tells her that Ryan is far more sensitive than he seems (or even understands), and they become close (but not lovers). She represents his good side, the part of him he has repressed all these years. Ward Bond, as the vengeful father of the murder victim, is like a caricature of Ryan, and also skeptical of him as a "city cop", as he puts it.

There's much to recommend in this film. Bernard Hermann's music is excellent. Ray's handling of the chase scenes in the snow, and his evocation of a small rural community, is masterful. The movie seems a little too short to me, for what it's trying to do, and at times spreads itself too thin. It's at various points a crime film, a romance, a mystery, an action picture and a psychological study. The actors, Ryan in particular, are outstanding. No one could play a brooding loser like he could. His emotional outbursts early on feel almost psychotic. Later, mellowed out in the frozen north (irony of ironies!), his vulnerable side begins to emerge, and he becomes sympathetic to us, and eventually empathetic toward the woman. One senses his cluelessness about what's happening in him emotionally, as we, the audience, get it, and he doesn't. He's almost fragile trying to deal with tender feelings, especially since if he messes up or things go wrong he can't very well punch his way out of this one.

Detective Jim Wilson is a good cop mired in a bad world of hustlers and pimps and crooks. He has a black and white sense of right and wrong, but he's trapped in infinite shades of gray — a garbage handler, as he self-identifies, who spends his days and nights thankfully cleaning up the trash on the mean streets. He's got pencil-pushing bureaucrats breathing down his neck, and every dame who crosses his path has angle. But he gets things done, he rights wrongs, usually by beating bad guys into submission. In other words, he is an archetype for every bad man on a good mission and this movie is a blue print for every renegade copy movie ever made thereafter.

And as is this case in almost every one of those cop movies thereafter, the world is quickly changing around him and in the new world, you can't solve all your problems with your fists — or, as in more modern movies, with a gun. (Side note: apparently things don't change too quickly much because this story line is still alive and well.) After a particularly brutal scene in which the sympathetic, sadistic cop beats a confession out of a craven, seemingly masochistic criminal, he draws the ire of his commanding officer who sends him upstate to a rural area gripped in an icy winter. A girl has been murdered and the locals, especially the father, aim to settle the score. Everything in his gritty, urban background has readied him to dole out some sympathetic justice, but there's just one problem — in the course of the investigation, he meets a dame without an angle: the beautiful, and blind, Mary Malden (played by Ida Lupino).

Her mentally challenged brother is a suspect and Jim and the victim's father are forced wait out the night at Mary's house. For a man who has seen too much and trusts no one, he can't help but fall for the lovely Mary who has can't see anything and is forced to, as she admits, trust everyone.

More modern sensibilities are used to (numbed by?) a direct visual treatment of passion, but the muted approach in this movie heightens the impact. When their hands touch, we are treated to a moment of romantic discovery that surpasses all the heat and energy of the currently more popular bra and pantie clad tussling between love interests.

The movie is shot in a jumpy, jerky way (mumblenoir?) with crackling dialog, adds to the tension, sense of foreboding and drama. And the car chase — sliding along icy roads — was well-executed. For such a short movie (82 minutes), it covers a lot of territory — from the heart of the city to the emptiness of the wilderness, and from cynical resignation and brutality to hope and redemption.

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"On Dangerous Ground" is a strange, schizophrenic film that straddles the fence between film noir and romantic melodrama, managing to be both and neither at the same time. It has the same otherworldly quality that director Nicholas Ray frequently brought to his films, but ultimately I'm not sure whether it's successful or not.

The first half of the film finds brutal cop Robert Ryan stomping around the mean streets of a dark, brooding city, his abusive approach to meting out punishment keeping him only one small step from becoming the kind of criminal he spends his time tracking down. These early scenes are the most fascinating ones in the film, though (or maybe because) they have really nothing to do with the film's main plot and are all about developing the character of Ryan. He cruises around dark streets, the camera placed in the back seat of his car, filming the passing street as he is seeing it, his eyes reflected in the rearview mirror (Martin Scorses borrowed this kind of shot for "Taxi Driver" perhaps?) What emerges is the portrait of an isolated and lonely man barely maintaining a grip on his sanity in the midst of an insane world.

But the second half of the film dissipates the claustrophobic tension of the city environment by sending Ryan out into the country to investigate the murder of a young girl. He stumbles into the home of a blind woman (played by Ida Lupino looking like Loretta Young) and strikes up a timid romance with her, her gentleness and trustworthy nature providing just the antidote his jaded sensibilities need. Will their romance work, or are the two worlds they're from too different? There's much of interest about the portion of the film set in the country. The idea that the kind of crime traditionally reserved for the back alleys of city slums could be working its way into the great nowhere had to have been an uncomfortable idea for post-war America. And the crazed, vengeful father of the murdered girl is a far cry from the simple, kind souls we like to think people the American heartland. And Ray creates a visual interest in the country scenes as well. The harsh, barren landscape looks like the surface of the moon, no more inviting than the sinister, shadowy city streets to which it's juxtaposed.

But I got bored with the romantic plot line, and felt it was out of place in a film like this. And the ending especially didn't sit well with me. It seemed much more likely that Ryan would return to the streets he knows so well and continue his lonely existence, rather than come back to the love of a good woman in a cozy cottage in the middle of nowhere. I felt cheated, and wished that the ending could have had the guts that the rest of the film did.

A fascinating film in its own right, but a flawed one. You can't watch it and not think of the opportunities missed.

Grade: B+