Acossado!

Buenos Aires enjoyed a vogue (so far as the movies were concerned) in the mid-1940s, providing the locale for Notorious, Gilda and Edward Dmytryk's Cornered. In all three, it serves as a sort of terminal moraine for Nazi refugees from the shambles of the Axis powers.

Dick Powell continues his transformation from lip-glossed song-and-dance man for Busby Berkeley into a five-o'clock-shadowed tough guy, a makeover he had begun the previous year as Philip Marlowe in Murder, My Sweet (also by Dmytryk). Here he's a Canadian Royal Air Force veteran who ends up in Argentina, via France and Switzerland, on a mission to avenge the murder of his war-bride wife. He enters a whirl of black-tie affairs in cavernous mansions (those Nazis knew how to party) and a nest of duplicity surrounding the mysterious, and presumably dead, war-criminal-in-chief, known as Jarnac -- the object of his deadly hunt. An at-first bewildering cast of sinister operatives gradually sorts itself out into villains (Walter Slezak the most memorable of them) and members of an anti-Fascist group; Powell, the while, skulks along the moonlit streets of the city in pursuit of Jarnac's "widow."

Dmytryk displays his pioneering flair for noir devices, keeping the atmospherics and tension high. He's let down a bit by the murkiness of the plotting, where the political theme emerges and disappears, leaving abstract stretches of suspense that might as easily have taken place in Boston or Bombay. And it's hard to buy into the convention that, in rooms blazing with gunfire, the red-blooded American will always prevail by means of a manly sock to the jaw. Somewhat dated by its wartime politics and its roots in the international-intrigue genre, Cornered remains a solid piece of work by both Dmytryk and Powell.

A lot of the Hayes code seems destined for the trash heap in this film. We see women who are obviously willing to sleep with our protagonist. There's blood. There are bodies, right out in the open. Burned up or riddled with bullet holes, there they are. One of our characters gets slugged in the mouth and we see a bloody drizzle escaping his lips.

Yes, the Hayes code took a beating with this one.

There are dark, sinister looks, from dark sinister people. Gerard (Powell) is surrounded by murderous people and we don't know who is for him or against him. At least not until the end of the film.

This one film is proof positive that the innocence of America is long gone. No one is smiling. No one is truly happy. Everyone is on edge because, even though the war is over, our cast is headed for a long torturous road to normalcy. We are all hoping they make it.

During the war, Gerard (Powell) is returned to friendly territory were he recovers from his wounds. While in hospital, he receives a letter from his wife's father, telling him that his wife is dead. Gerard knows something isn't right and that "Dad" isn't telling the whole story.

He applies for a visa and is told a background check (his) will take a month. He returns to France illegally, to get answers. And thus the fun begins.

This is excellent film noir told from the perspective of writers, a director, and producer who have been affected by real war.

It shows.

Just count the number of daylight scenes in this unusually dense and dark slice of international intrigue. No doubt about it, noir has come to South America. And by golly, revenge-obsessed Laurence Gerard (Dick Powell) is going to track down his wife's killer, a Nazi collaborator, even if he has to turn Argentina upside down. And what's more, he's about as humorlessly driven as any grim character from that grim decade.

As good as Powell is, it's Walter Slezak as the slippery operative Melchior Incza who steals the show. I've seen the movie several times and I still can't figure out what side he's on. But never mind, he's all either oily politeness or hulking menace, to the point that for once I enjoyed watching a bloody beating. In fact, the 90 minutes is full of sinister foreign types, all polished gentlemen sporting high-class suits and slinky ladies modeling 40's high fashion. Nonetheless, you may need a scorecard to keep track of who's winning.

There are a number of nice touches, but maybe the most inventive is the subway scene. Gerard is trying to get important information from the untrustworthy Mme. Jarnac. Okay, she seems ready to cooperate and he's warily hanging on every word. But before she can complete a sentence, a noisy train rumbles by. They wait. She tries again. Same thing. Could it be that the Nazis are running the Buenos Aires subway? Of course, by this time the frustration has spread to the audience who may never ride a subway again.

The movie's message comes at the end and is reflective of the time (1945). Gerard may be pursuing justice, but the allies who help him are chasing Nazism itself. Following war's end, the survivors have escaped to Latin America and must be apprehended before the Third Reich festers all over again. (In fact, the West was unsure of Hitler's actual demise until 1956 when the Soviets finally released conclusive proof that he hadn't escaped his bunker.)

The identity of these pursuers is never disclosed, probably a touchy topic given the politics of writers Wexler and Paxton, subsequent victims of the Hollywood blacklist. In fact, the whole production crew reads like a Who's Who of the list, including producer Scott and director Dmytryk, two members of the high-profile Ten. Seems odd, finding Republican- conservative Powell in this leftish mix-- but then it's true that the war had enlisted Americans of all political stripes.

Politics aside, it's a crackling good yarn, even if a bit heavy-going at times. And for fans of noir, the lighting comes across as a textbook of shadow and menace. So much so, I doubt that the electricity bill for the entire production exceeded 10 bucks. Sure, the details seem dated but the sinister characters, passionate convictions, and convoluted schemes still entertain.

I really enjoyed this war-set film noir with avenging angel Dick Powell continent-hopping to track down the shadowy Nazi commander who ordered the killing of his young wife.

The plot is a bit labyrinthine and probably peopled with too many characters but director Dymytrk keeps up the tension throughout and genuflects regularly in the direction of film noir with shadowy shots a-plenty, a mysterious woman who may or not be on Powell's side as well as Powell's turn himself as a sort of amateur private eye, getting deeper and deeper out of his depth as he closes in, he thinks, on his prey.

Powell doesn't do hangdog like Bogart or style like Grant, but he's deadpan and feisty by turns and does a reasonable job carrying the film from chapter to chapter. I also liked Walter Slezak as a sort of younger version of Sydney Greenstreet, trying to play both ends against each other but coming a cropper by the end as two quite grisly murders are enacted for us.

I liked the early location shots in war torn Europe and was otherwise satisfied too, with director Dymytrk doing a good job keeping the plates all spinning and who intelligently treats this terse thriller with a bit more attention to detail than other more slapdash filmmakers.

I'll watch almost every noir film I can as it's probably my favourite movie type and consider this effort, if occasionally a touch on the dry side, nevertheless a fine example of this particular genre.

Dick Powell was one of those classic Hollywood actors who was so laid back, so cool, so quick with the one-liner that he made most other actors seem positively dull. Even in the tightest of corners, he could always manage a suitable quip – and in this outing (as Laurence Gerard), he has his fair share...

He's ably supported by Walter Slezak (as Melcior Incza – what a name!) who once again plays a double-dealing con artist always looking for the main chance – in this case, trying to make a few more dishonest bucks helping – or is he hindering? -- Gerard track down the dirty traitor Marcel Jarnac (a short but fine performance from Luther Adler) who is responsible for Gerard's wife's death in France towards the end of World War II.

So, the quest in on. Along the way, Gerard travels from London, to France, to Switzerland and finally to Argentina where he finally begins his search in earnest. From that point until the end, the twists and turns in the plot remind me of the confusion that permeated The Big Sleep (1946). Cornered, however, does arrive at a satisfactory conclusion, unlike the Bogart classic which still puzzles viewers today (I've read that even Bogart remained unclear about the plot of The Big Sleep also).

However, back to this one...

Overall, I liked this film for its great use of darkness, shadows, excellent mise-en-scene, as befitting film-noir, and the sharp dialog; I thought, however, the pacing of the story was a bit slow at times and that some of the cuts were often very jerky, thus resulting in uneven narrative transitions. And the really big omission is the absence of an effective femme fatale. The rest of the production was okay and, for 1945, was equal to other B-movies of the genre.

Dick Powell went on to do more film noir (Johnny O'Clock, Pitfall, Rogues' Regiment and others) until 1954 when he opted for the emerging TV juggernaut. So, if you've missed this one up till now, it's worth the 102 minutes out of your life just to listen to Dick Powell and watch him grimace while he cracks sardonic jokes...