En marge de l'enquête

By the way he talks Humphrey Bogart thinks he's still Sam Spade and that Lizabeth Scott is Mary Astor but "Dead Reckoning" is no "Maltese Falcon". Nevertheless this convoluted film-noir is still extremely enjoyable if a little hard to follow. It was directed by John Cromwell in 1947 and while Mr Cromwell was no John Huston he was no slouch either so the film moves at a fairly professional clip and is never less than entertaining.

If there's a problem it probably lies in the over-egged script and the purple prose, courtesy of no less than five writers and that includes producer Sidney Biddell who came up with the original story. Bogart is excellent as always and there's nice work from Morris Carnovsky as a bad guy but Lizabeth Scott was certainly no Mary Astor and at times you wonder if her 'bad acting' is bad acting or just 'bad acting', if you get my drift. For some reason the film isn't much seen these days which is a pity because, while no classic, it really is a lot of fun.

This mediocre film noir, involving the usual tangle of murder and deceit, is notable mainly for Bogart's presence. He's an army captain who sets out to solve the mysterious circumstances surrounding the death of a buddy. There's the usual quotient of danger and deceit and, of course, a femme fatale, well played by Lizabeth Scott who seems to have been born for this kind of part. Many of the plot points are either hard to follow or hard to swallow, and it's all much too talky, but it does have a memorable closing line! Worth seeing for genre buffs.

Dead Reckoning appeared too early to have worn out and begun to recycle film noir's conceits and conventions, but already it has a tired, seen-it-all feel to it. Its director, the generally reliable John Cromwell (who three years later was to helm the great-grandmaw of women-behind-bars pix, Caged) works here with a by-the-numbers detachment that keeps the movie as limp and soggy as its "Gulf City" locale.

Returning vet Humphey Bogart, en route to Washington with a war buddy who's about to be awarded some Big Medal, is baffled when said buddy suddenly takes it on the lam. His investigation into what happened and why takes him to a seamy town on America's south coast where, in a morgue, he finds his friend's body, charred beyond recognition. He also meets up with Lizabeth Scott (as Coral Chandler, or "Dusty," or, even, "Mike"), a canary in a local nitery run by heavy Morris Carnovsky. It seems she and the late pal were something of an item, and she teams up with Bogart to get to the truth.

Or does she? The most problematic aspect of the film is that dealing with Scott -- game blonde or femme fatale? It's as if the scriptwriters or studio heads couldn't make up their mind about her, or as if alternative endings were contemplated, or even filmed. This doesn't help the viewer, whose empathy seems always to be out of kilter with what's happening in the plot. And this can't be written off as a teasing ambiguity -- it's a gross failure of filmmaking. So the sentimental, "redemptive" ending in the hospital ward, with high-flown talk of parachute jumps, tries to have it both ways. Well, it can't.

If Humphrey Bogart had ever decided to film one of Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer thrillers, it would have turned out something like 1947's DEAD RECKONING. Although it's not actually based on a book, John Cromwell's tautly-directed film noir owes more than a little of its plotting and characterization to earlier classic crime novels-turned-classic Bogart movies. Indeed, when my husband Vin entered the room while the film was on, he began watching it with me and soon asked, "Is this THE BIG SLEEP, or THE MALTESE FALCON?" However, DEAD RECKONING is steeped in the kind of bitter post-war viciousness that distinguished Mickey Spillane's writing -- not that there's anything wrong with that! :-) Bogart commands the screen as Rip Murdock, a former Army paratrooper (lots of colorful references to parachutes and jumping here) and one of the most misogynistic good guys he ever played (not that you can blame Rip, after the wringer he's put through in this film). Captain Rip starts out trying to find out why his Sergeant and pal Johnny Drake (William Prince) has a Yale pin with the name "John Joseph Preston" on it, and more importantly, why Johnny bolts rather than accept the Congressional Medal of Honor for his wartime heroism. Rip's investigation leads him to Gulf City, Tropical Paradise of the South (don't take my word for it, check out the neon sign in the upper right-hand corner of the screen in the opening establishing shot :-), where he's quickly sucked into a whirlpool of secrets, double-crossing, murder, and such inventive mayhem as tossing napalm-powered Molotov cocktails at sinister smoothie Morris Carnovsky and his psycho henchman Marvin (THE MILLIONAIRE) Miller to make them talk. Standing in for quintessential Bogart leading lady Lauren Bacall (and original leading lady Rita Hayworth, who was hung up making THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI) is Lizabeth Scott as mysterious chanteuse Coral Chandler, the kind of dame guys go gaga for against their better judgment (she's got so many pet names from her various beaus that the first time I saw the film, I wasn't quite sure if her name was "Coral," "Dusty," or, of all things, "Mike"!). While Scott's no Bacall (don't get me wrong, Scott fans, I like her, but to my ears, her husky voice always sounds more phlegmy than sultry. Every time Scott speaks, I half-expect someone to offer her a cough drop!), she's certainly chock full of luminous blonde beauty, plus Scott has an air of wounded vulnerability that makes me empathize with her in spite of myself. Sometimes the film is gloriously, deliriously nutzoid. For instance, Bogart's speech to Scott early on about how men should be able to reduce women to pocket-size when necessary, and Scott's interpretation of this theory, must be heard to be believed. But when DEAD RECKONING works, it's dynamite (literally, when Bogart and Scott join forces with safecracker/explosives expert Wallace Ford)! Even when things get ugly, this movie is always gorgeous to look at, thanks to the stunning use of shadows and light in Leo Tover's black-and-white photography. If you love Bogart and you like your film noir grim yet glamorous and over-the-top at times, DEAD RECKONING is well worth a look.

"Dead Reckoning" is a good, if not very original, film noir starring Humphrey Bogart as a paratrooper investigating his buddy's death.

William Prince, who later was a more visible actor as a white-haired older man, has a small role as the buddy, who runs away when he learns he's about to receive the Medal of Honor. Later, he's found dead in his home town.

There are the usual ethnic stereotypes - the de riguer black maid, the thug of Italian descent, and the torturing thug of German descent.

The thug in this case is Marvin Miller, who later became the assistant of John Beresford Tipton on the TV show, "The Millionaire." He got to give people $1 million tax free. With prices today, they'd probably all laugh in his face.

Lizabeth Scott is the woman "Johnny" (Prince) was in love with. She's an actress I always found heavy on style and slight on substance.

Beautiful, with a warm smile, and one of the best voices in films, she never exhibited the acting range of, say, Bacall, whom she seemed groomed to follow. In this role, she's not very believable, which is great for the noir films, in which she excelled. You really didn't know how involved she was or wasn't in the crime at hand.

All in all, a very entertaining film with a solid performance by Bogart.

Regarding the film's reference to the "Geronimo" cry that paratroopers made as they jumped, I asked an actual war paratrooper about this, and he said, "We were usually so scared we couldn't make a sound."