A Capital do Crime

The "Confidential" part was meant to piggy-back on the popular appeal of the lurid magazine of the same name, while the labor racketeering theme tied in with headline Congressional investigations of the day. However, despite the A-grade B-movie cast and some good script ideas, the movie plods along for some 73 minutes. It's a cheap-jack production all the way. What's needed to off-set the poor production values is some imagination, especially from uninspired director Sidney Salkow. A few daylight location shots, for example, would have helped relieve the succession of dreary studio sets. A stylish helmsman like Anthony Mann might have done something with the thick-ear material, but Salkow treats it as just another pay-day exercise. Too bad that Brian Keith's typical low-key style doesn't work here, coming across as merely wooden and lethargic. At the same time, cult figure Elisha Cook Jr. goes over the top as a wild-eyed drunk. Clearly, Salkow is no actor's director. But, you've got to hand it to that saucy little number Beverly Garland who treats her role with characteristic verve and dedication. Too bad, she wasn't in charge. My advice-- skip it, unless you're into ridiculous bar-girls who do nothing else but knock back whiskeys in typical strait-jacketed 50's fashion.

One of several late-noirs about Union corruption, for a basic seventy-five-minute programmer, CHICAGO CONFIDENTIAL has just about everything, from murderous thugs to their sophisticated bosses to courtroom drama involving a wrong man to all heavies eventually being hunted down, Brian Keith stars as a lawyer fighting to get wrongly-accused union boss Dick Foran off the hook from an ON THE WATERFRONT style rudimentary stool-pigeon murder (care-of usual Noir torpedo Jack Lambert) that happens right off the bat...

Giving CONFIDENTIAL a tight, edgy and at the same time breezily entertaining pulse where the best sequences take place beyond expository offices and into the shadowy streets or else inside a smoky nightclub that harbors sultry and experienced b-girls led by an equally vulnerable Beverly Tyler (along with alcoholic Linda Brent), stealing scenes not only from Keith's picture-pretty housewife and lead ingenue (Foran's secretary) Beverly Garland, but the men as well.

Unlike with the City that Never Sleeps, I didn't recognize a single Chicago location, unless you count still photographs. I think this was made in LA, and I'm bummed because I watched it to see old footage of my city.

It's well acted, and well structured, but the story hinges on a plot point, and some pseudoscience, that are so loopy they would be camp, if it were not for how straight everyone plays it, like a police procedural. If you get a kick of how old science plays out in old movies, or dated, or incredibly fictional science, that might be fun for you.

Plus, the State's Attorney re-examines something on the flimsiest possible basis. We're all used to that, every time someone says they have a hunch in movies, sure. But this is more like "someone who is biased yelled at me," and "leave no stone unturned to the point of being ridiculous."

So, this is a well acted, well structured movie that hinges on a couple of incredibly goofy plot points.

However, it's a blast to see Jack Lambert in this. I always think of him as the Lee Marvin who never made it big. He's similarly born to play toughs.

Union corruption serves as the McGuffin for Chicago Confidential, but the movie's really a big-city cops-and-robbers story with some stalwarts and set-ups left over from the noir cycle that had just about run its course by 1957 (and it shows).

A union official about to sing winds up shot and sunk in Lake Michigan; the honest union president (Dick Foran) is framed for the murder, stands trial and is convicted. That's quite a feather in the cap of District Attorney Brian Keith, who has gubernatorial yearnings.

But Foran's girlfriend Beverly Garland, discredited on the witness stand by means of fabricated evidence and suborned perjury, wins over Keith through her persistent loyalty. But as Keith begins to unravel the skein of lies that helped him win his case, the union's ambitious and corrupt vice-president (Douglas Kennedy) grows more desperate, and the body count starts to look like the city's in the roaring ‘20s. Among the victims is a stumblebum called Candymouth (Elisha Cook), used as a cat's paw in incriminating Foran, but even Keith and Garland find themselves in jeopardy....

The plot involves a bigwig lawyer left over from the Capone organization, `B-girls,' an impressionist, and oscilloscopes. But it moves quickly enough that the loose ends don't matter much (Why wasn't the tape recording analyzed before the trial? Why are the B-girls being shipped to Manila?). Director Sidney Salkow gets some of locales right (a sleazy bar called Shanghai Low among them) but doesn't bring much of an eye or an ear to the enterprise. Still, he keeps the movie jumping from one thing to the next, and that's at least something.

The mob has infiltrated a union and are about to be ratted out to the state's attorney. They rub out the songbird and make a patsy out of the union's leader. Things look bad for the condemned man, but his girlfriend never gives up trying to exonerate him. Good film with lots of old familiar faces.