A Rua Sem Nome

At first, the docu-drama approach feels like kind of a safety net that prevents the viewer from losing himself completely in this striking noir universe, but the intricacies of the police work were interesting to watch unfold and this is still a strong film. Particularly memorable are the taut, virtually noiseless chase scenes that take place in suitably dark, nightmarish settings, like the one where crook Widmark sniffs out undercover cop Stevens at the hideout. I also liked the colorful low life lingo such as when one of the thugs tells Stevens to "pick yourself a boom-boom" as they suit up for their big score.

Great to see Richard Widmark doing what he does best - playing villains, of course. Few actors could match Widmark when it came to that staple of screen heavies: losing their temper. This guy slaps people's faces with a karate-like precision that's remarkable. And just the way he tells some flunkie henchman he doesn't want around to "blow" is pure heaven. In a role like this, he owns the screen; he's like a well dressed rat always scavenging for his next meal.

I was reading a Cornell Woolrich story about a year ago and one of the characters used a Mark Stevens' picture as an alibi for where they had been at a certain time. Never having heard of Stevens I assumed it was just a made up movie star name and movie title ("I Wonder Who's Kissing Her Now".) Imagine my surprise when shortly thereafter I looked up his name and found out that there certainly was such an actor, a borderline leading man who apparently enjoyed some level of stardom during a 30 or so film career. Judging by his appearance here, he's a good, functional actor, though he has the sort of face it's easy to forget. Which is probably why he was selected for this part, as he isn't asked to carry the film (he's off screen for about half the running time) and as an undercover agent he's naturally required to blend in with his new environment. He does that quite well.

Impressive documentary style noir with a commanding performance by Richard Widmark. Apparently utilising real cops, FBI and internal and external locations, this is a most involving and believable little thriller. The opening is a bit dated with it's 'raise the flag' and breast beating stance in the name of J Edgar Hoover, but once this gets going it is really intoxicating. The night streets of 'skid row' are dripping with shadows as one character after another slips in and out of doorways to pool house or strip joints. There is a major sequence in a boxing gym with a couple of fights in progress and training going on around whilst a bunch of hoods take and place bets on this and that. Good tale, very well told and beautifully photographed.

Fox was so encouraged by the success of films like THE HOUSE ON 92ND STREET, BOOMERANG and KISS OF DEATH, that it seemed only natural they would pursue this genre for many years during the '40s. The outcome of this pursuit is a film like THE STREET WITH NO NAME.

New hot property RICHARD WIDMARK is given another chance to shine as a sneering villain who runs a gang the police are anxious to put out of business. They send a mole (MARK STEVENS) to infiltrate the mob and get the goods on Widmark--not unlike the situation in Cagney's WHITE HEAT.

While this one doesn't approach the finesse of Raoul Walsh's WHITE HEAT, it's a solidly entertaining piece of crime melodrama given punch by some good overall performances. Aside from Widmark and Stevens, the cast includes reliable Fox contract players BARBARA LAWRENCE, ED BEGLEY, DONALD BUKA, and JOHN McINTIRE.

Based on an actual FBI case, there's some narration in the manner of other Fox films in this genre. Upcoming MARK STEVENS has the most interesting role and does well with it. Stevens is a young actor who never got his full due at Fox, although he appeared in a number of strong films.

Summing up: Well worth seeing if you're a fan of film noir.

"The Street with No Name" is an effective and very suspenseful noir with semi-documentary techniques that are reminiscent of those by Henry Hathaway. Directed by William Keighley, an able action director ("G-Men", "Each Dawn I Die"), it stars Richard Widmark as the creepily murderous mob boss Stiles and Mark Stevens as the innocent looking FBI agent in peril. The film often feels like a painfully dated propaganda for the FBI and its ingenious ways of infiltrating a crime ring after a murder of two innocent people. But the realistic location shooting and the presence of Widmark & Stevens make it watchable.

J. Edgar Hoover, it now seems, was a mediocre crimefighter but a master orchestrator of his own publicity (and only secondarily that of the FBI). The Street With No Name stands as one of the better films dedicated to kissing his assiduously cultivated legend. Most directors assigned these tasks in the noir cycle wrote off such idolatry as a cost of doing business, clearing it away quickly so as to get on with their moviemaking; William Keighley follows this sensible agenda.

FBI agent Mark Stevens goes undercover to infiltrate the mob in that cesspool of crime, Center City, USA. In the boxing ring, he attracts the attention, slightly open to inference, of boss Richard Widmark, a dapper ("I like my boys to look sharp") cutthroat with a morbid fear of drafts and sneezes. With the aid of confederate John McIntyre, Stevens reports the gang's plans back to the FBI. Alas, a high-placed informant in the police department reports the FBI's plans back to Widmark.

So the movie boils down to the agent-in-peril story. Keighley tells it cleanly and briskly, eschewing the complexities (both visual and moral) of Anthony Mann's T-Men, released just a few months earlier. It's strongest in the feel for Center City's raffish tenderloin, with its fleabag hotels, pool halls and walk-up gyms. Stevens, McIntyre and Lloyd Nolan (as Stevens' superior) give workmanlike jobs with the rather staid roles scriptwriter Harry Kleiner supplies. His few-frills approach reins in Widmark, too, who's always better when he's unfettered and shooting over the top.

The Street With No Name suffers a bit from staying so resolutely all-guy; thus Barbara Lawrence suffers, too, in an underwritten and inconsequential part as Widmark's abused moll. A little more cool yin might have balanced out all that hot, hard yang.

NOTE: In 1955, Samuel Fuller remade -- and rethought -- this movie, using the same screenwriter and cinematographer (Joe MacDonald, now working in color) as House of Bamboo, set in postwar Tokyo.