Railroaded!

Anthony Mann directed some of the very best noirs of the 1940s and early 1950s.

This one is brutal, hard-hitting, and unrelenting till its Hollywood ended. (The ending may have been tacked on. I don't know. But it works organically with the whole, unlike many others.)

The problem for me with some of his movies, this one included, is that they are so dark they're almost impossible to see at times. Yes, it's atmospheric. But it's also frustrating.

The literal noir in some -- not all -- of his movies reminds me of the staging of Wagner at the Metropolitan Opera. Yes, it's brooding and intense. But it's also really hard to see.

Railroaded (1947)

An almost amazing movie, well made, beautifully photographed, held back by a stiff script but still it manages. And it has a dark current that makes it both creepy and contemporary. Director Anthony Mann seems to have made a dozen great films that are just under the radar, noirs and westerns that have some edge to them to keep them from falling into the abyss of their genres.

This is Mann at his mature earliest. He had made a few films in the earlier 40s, but this, along with "Desperate," marks his coming into his own. Yes, you might find too much of a formula at work here, but it's not derivative, just a little stilted in the dialog. And yes, you might ask, near the beginning, why the cops couldn't see how easy the frame up would be (anyone could have stolen the truck and committed the crime), but remember, this one fact was supported by several others, including an eyewitness confirmation. So, once over these humps, you are for a good ride.

Who to watch for amongst these relative unknowns? John Ireland, most of all, for his bad guy personification, all charm and heartlessness, simultaneously. His girlfriend, played by Sheila Ryan, is his match, in a sharp performance also dripping with selfish cruelty, but tempered, critically, by doubt and remorse.

The third star is the little known cinematographer Guy Roe, who must have been inspired by the young, rising director. The filming right from the opening, subtle crane shot of the beauty parlor facade is artfully gorgeous without becoming baroque the way Orson Welles had become (beautifully) by 1947 with "The Lady from Shanghai." Both are great examples of where the movies were just after the war, both with a dark, brooding, searching uncertainty. And both showing off the amazing movie-making machinery of post-War Hollywood. I say this because both films were smaller budget affairs, and yet they have uncompromised production.

Give this a serious look. It's imperfect, for sure, but it has such high points, including some dark dark filming that is so kinetic and scary it surprised even an old film noir fan like me, you'll be glad.

John Ireland's portrayal of a cold obsessed killer is the best thing in this movie. His performance is edgy, sexy and menacing. A brutal thug who loves his gun. Unfortunately he is hampered by a weak script, where his actions often make little sense. (For instance, why would he contact the sister of the suspect he framed?). Jane Randolph is also strong as the moll, although her character seems to change midway through the movie.

One of the first noir films directed by Anthony Mann, the movie is well shot, fast paced, tightly edited and tough. One wishes the focus could have stayed on Ireland, or, alternatively, the strong scenes of Ed Kelly being framed and pushed around by the cops. Mann will better develop these themes in his later films (noirs and westerns). Still a pretty enjoyable movie and a must for film noir fans.

This film has it all, great photography, well developed plot AND story, snappy dialogue and passable acting. I suppose I shouldn't say it has it "all" in that case, as the characters are not particularly round and because of that the acting is not always completely satisfying to me. But that doesn't prevent me from popping this movie in again and again, just because it's non-stop action and so so pretty to look at.

"Leave it Beaver" fans should see this, of course, but might be slightly disappointed that Beaumont is a bit more rigid than the sit-com serial allowed him to be - I wished for more warmth from his character, as I know he was capable of conveying. John Ireland, however, was brilliantly evil and his acting, at least, was top notch.

Set Up! or Framed! might be better titles than Railroaded! While it's true that the police pursue their suspect (Ed Kelly) with undue alacrity, it's also true that they're only following a trail of maliciously planted evidence. And an odd feature of the movie is that Kelly remains almost an incidental character (not even appearing in the credits); the focus stays on the police and the real behind-the-scenes villain.

Brash blonde Jane Randolph operates a little beauty salon that's really a front for a back-room book. One night a couple of masked robbers knock it over, but things go wrong: A beat cop is killed, and one of the gunmen (Keefe Brasselle) takes a bullet. Soon detective Hugh Beaumont knocks on Kelly's door, led there by the boy's monogrammed navy scarf, a sighting of his van at the scene, and a description provided by Randolph. Even Brasselle, bandaged up like the Invisible Man, names Kelly in deathbed testimony.

The only one who believes his innocence is his sister (Sheila Ryan). Luckily, Beaumont knows her from the old neighborhood and still is a bit sweet on her. Unluckily, so is the man who set up her brother (John Ireland) as part of a coverup to swindle the head of the syndicate both he and Randolph work for. Little by little, the craftily stitched-together ruse starts to pull apart at the seams, and the hotheaded Ireland grows more reckless and violent...

Directed by Anthony Mann just before his collaboration with cinematographer John Alton took his work to a new plateau, Railroaded! displays some of his trademark tricks (a taut story line; swift and unexpected burst of violence; shadows used not merely as mood but visual metaphors).

And Ireland gets not only top billing but one of his best roles. When he's not slapping around Randolph for her sloppy drinking (in the grand tradition of alcoholic molls like Claire Trevor in Key Largo and Gloria Grahame in The Big Heat), he's fetishistically perfuming his bullets. He's quite the sex-equals-violence kind of guy; when Randolph and Ryan get into a hair-pulling tussle, he watches from an alcove with a nasty smirk on his face, and his gun barrel unconsciously traces the action. It's as if it's deciding who will be the lucky recipient of its payload.