La mano deforme

Van Johnson plays it a lot rougher than usual when cast as a hardboiled police detective in Scene Of The Crime. He's got reason to be hard in this case. A fellow detective has been murdered, shot down in the mean streets of Los Angeles. The victim had a thousand dollars in his pocket and may have been doing some off duty guard duty for some bookmakers. Which would make the cop and incidentally Van's friend a crooked cop.

Which among other things is what Captain Leon Ames wants Van to find out as well as bring in the killer. What Van and his squad uncover is a gang of crooks who are robbing these illegal gambling establishments, be they bookmaking parlors, dice games, poker games, whatever.

This case is the main concern of this film, but Johnson has a whole lot of other things on his plate. A partner, John McIntire, who is slowing up with age, a young detective Tom Drake who is learning the ropes as fast as Van can teach him, and his wife Arlene Dahl who would like very much for her husband to get out of the cop business.

Two other performances really stand out in this film. First Gloria DeHaven as singer/gangster girl friend who's definitely the most hardboiled character in the film. Her reasons for her actions tread into adult areas that the Code frowned on, but are still implied. Secondly Norman Lloyd you will not forget as one of Van's stool pigeons who might just be missing a whole suit in his deck of cards. Lloyd will definitely make your skin crawl.

Scene Of The Crime is a good cop drama, atypical for MGM at that time, but they would soon be doing more of these.

Two veteran Los Angeles police detectives and a well-meaning rookie set out to find the killer of an off-duty fellow officer who may have been on the take. This is an L.A. filled with dangerous broads, bookie joints, ex-bootleggers in on a new racket, and cops in natty suits and broad-billed hats. The pulpy, slangy dialogue is fun at times, as are the performances from Van Johnson and Gloria DeHaven (playing a chanteuse "with a figure like champagne and a heart like the cork"). Other, later crime-dramas would quickly up the ante on such a scenario, but this one is a fine example of the compact policer. M-G-M was downsizing their budgets at the time and trying their hand at different types of films--which provided the perfect opportunity for matinée idols like Johnson to stretch their acting muscles. The results here are not exactly noir, but more from an overtly-ordinary, overtly-jaded mold, with everyday people going about their business and getting the job done. If it isn't exciting, at least it's highly competent. **1/2 from ****

This is a very entertaining look at big city cops and robbers with shades of film noir showing though. The standout performance in a potentially femme fatale role is Gloria DeHaven. I suspect the writers, John Bartlow Martin and Charles Schnee, along with director Roy Rowland, had experiences with untrustworthy women, for Lili (Gloria DeHaven) could turn any man's heart to putty, then fool him over and over. Van Johnson too turns in a subdued performance which is called for in the character (Mike Conovan) he plays. Conovan's very liberal wife, especially for 1949, is played by Arlene Dahl, who is fed up with the demands of her husband's job but who also trusts her husband to be with a vixen and still stay true to her. This is an effective counterbalance to the untrustworthiness of Lili. Great supporting roles abound filled with standout performances from John McIntire's "too old to cut the mustard" part all the way to the Sleeper, Norman Lloyd. Yuk, Yuk, it's great. There is a lot of realistic blood and guts thrown in complete with car chases that foretell things to come in action movies. Heat up some popcorn, get a cold one, then sit back and enjoy the ride.

An LA police detective (Van Johnson) investigates the murder of another detective and gets involved with night club singer and stripper played by Gloria De Haven. The story has a neat double cross. A criminal organization from "down south" sends a couple of "lobos" to LA in order to take over a bookmaking syndicate. Corruption is at the center of the story as the dead detective was carrying a wad of cash. Johnson's out to prove that he (dead detective) wasn't on the take. His street contact Sleepy (Norman Lloyd) provides some of the films more vivid moments, and Jerome Cowan (Sam Spade's partner in Maltese Falcon) has a great part as "fixer" Arthur Webson. Johnson does very well in the part, combining breeziness that he honed in earlier films with sufficient grit to be believable as a tough detective. His wife played by Arlene Dahl looks great and they share some pretty good chemistry in their scenes. The film does a good job of capturing the story's different elements and cohesively combining them. The action doesn't always come, but when it does it is surprisingly sudden and brutal for the times.

I guess the lesson here is that you can take the crime drama out of MGM, but you can't take MGM out of the crime drama. With noirish location shots, the new Dore Schary regime changed the usual MGM look somewhat, yet the movie still boasts a string of stars and star power for which the studio was known. The trouble is that working Van Johnson, Arlene Dahl, Tom Drake, Gloria DeHaven, Donald Woods, and a string of "name" supporting players into the screenplay with sufficient screen time for each overstretches the results. Despite some effective moments (the hotel room fistfight, the fright screams from the burning car), the movie suffers from too much flab for overall effect. For example, the two rather lengthy scenes with Norrie Lorfield (Tom Helmore), the rival for Conovan's (Johnson) wife, are simply a needless distraction from the main plot, and work to dilute the overall effect. In fact, the entire marital subplot should have been dropped or at least minimized, but it seems that the studio was not satisfied with the kind of fast, efficient little crime drama that RKO, for one, routinely turned out.

I'm tempted to say that just as movie spectaculars and historical epics depend on big budgets for optimal effect, crime dramas and noirs depend on the tight disciplining constraints of small ones. That way, production values don't interfere with the story line. Here it appears that MGM's celebrated production values over-produced the number of feature players, which, in turn, multiplied the various subplots, or vice-versa. In either case, it's too bad the script didn't eliminate a few of these in favor of giving Norman Lloyd's truly memorable character, Sleeper, more screen time. He's the kind of unique character that could have transformed this otherwise forgettable exercise into a memorable one.