Acte de violence

Van Heflin plays a land developer in Los Angeles in the booming years after WW2, whom we see cutting the ribbon on a new sub-division that's opening up. He has a beautiful young wife played by Janet Leigh who adores everything about him and a toddler son as well. When an army buddy played by Robert Ryan unexpectedly shows up, it throws Heflin's little paradise into chaos. His wartime history emerges, presenting a disturbing picture of cowardice and betrayal, things he's kept hidden from everyone, including his wife, but which his own conscience and Ryan as well, won't let him escape. It turns out Ryan's been trailing him from coast to coast. Heflin's disintegration is awesome, one of the finest acting jobs ever. It's all perfectly capped off when he's trying to explain what happened to his unbelieving wife. He winds up on LA's skid row, meeting a party girl who's seen much better days played by Mary Astor, who gets him to confide in her and introduces him to Johnny (Berry Kroeger), someone who can arrange to have all his problems taken care of for a hefty price. The conclusion, a classic western style noir showdown on a breezy night on the railroad tracks, is beautifully done.

"Act of Violence" from 1948, directed by Fred Zinnemann, is a strong noir starring Van Heflin, Robert Ryan, Janet Leigh, and Mary Astor.

Ryan is Joe Parkson, a man disabled in World War II who wants revenge against his old commanding officer, Frank Enley (Heflin). Parkson blames Enley for his disability and comes to town to kill him. Frank has been running from Joe for a while, as his wife (Leigh) mentions that they have moved to several different places. At this point Frank is an absolute pillar of the community in every way. But he's carrying a dark secret, and Joe knows it.

Excellent acting is the strength here, with Heflin giving a fantastic performance of man who slowly disintegrates, and Ryan in a familiar role as a killer. Except, of course, there's more to the story than that. Mary Astor has a small but showy part. Janet Leigh is very young here, playing Frank's adoring wife. Taylor Holmes, in the small role of a sleazeball, does a fantastic job.

Someone on this board made an excellent point. There were complaints that there should have been flashbacks showing what actually happened in the past. The point was made that a) It was a B movie and as such, flashbacks would have added too much time; and b) Because we were a nation of radio listeners back then, audiences had no trouble imagining what happened when they heard the story. I found this fascinating because it's so true and had not occurred to me. For years, we used our imaginations much more than we do today.

In "Seventh Cross" director Fred Zinnemann depicted the isolation of a concentration camp escapee (Spencer Tracy) with MGM studio sets stepping in for actual locations - that would have been impossible at the time. In "The Search" he made use of a ruined Berlin to tell the story of a very young concentration camp survivor - a young boy separated from his mother - using the ruins as a metaphor for the many ruined lives.

In "Act of Violence" Zinnemann returns to the aftermath of war - this time telling of two prisoner-of-war camp survivors, one of whom was a Nazi collaborator, the other one a vengeful fellow prisoner who takes it upon himself to track down and kill his former friend. Cinematographer Robert Surtees makes great use of Los Angeles' seedier parts of town - I was reminded of how his son Bruce Surtees made similar effective use of San Francisco in "Dirty Harry" - this is noir at its best, not only in cinematic terms, but with those "only come out at night" characters you expect in a top notch thriller.

Mary Astor is most effective as the barfly (couldn't make her a prostitute, though it is more than obvious) - and after her performance in the garish "Desert Fury" it's nice to see her in black-and-white again. We first meet her in a pub in which Van Heflin runs for sanctuary, the lighting there has us admiring the way she has held up, but when we move to the harsher lighting of her apartment (the lamp hanging on a cord is unshaded), we realize that the first impression was too kind. It's a magnificent performance - perhaps the best that I've seen of her.

Barry Kroeger, whose altogether too infrequent appearances included such noir classics as "Cry of the City" and "Gun Crazy," makes the most of his few moments as an underworld "enforcer" who would be quite willing to kill Ryan for a price. While Ryan seems to be a man who is on the verge of violence at any second, barely able to restrain himself, Kroeger is even more chilling. His calm, rational demeanor puts him in a different class of predator - he's good at what he does and he's used to doing it, like Alan Ladd's character in "This Gun For Hire" we can be sure that when committing murder, he feels "Fine, just fine."

Janet Leigh appears as Heflin's wife - it's an early turn for her, and while it is a most stereotypically written "wifey" role, she invests it with all that she has, but the ending is such that we have to wonder just how she will react. Right before that we have a taut scene with Heflin about to confront Ryan while Kroeger is watching. The tension is almost unbearable, all done through editing and camerawork and not one line of dialogue.

Zinnemann would continue to look at war's effects on those who came home in "The Men" as well as "Teresa" and in "Hatful Of Rain" - the man may be the most unheralded of classic film directors, but his resume includes Oscar winners such as "High Noon" and "A Man For All Seasons" as well as such nailbiters as this film and the original "Day of the Jackal."

Act of Violence is directed by Fred Zinnemann and adapted for the screen by Robert L. Richards from a story by Collier Young. It stars Van Heflin, Robert Ryan, and Janet Leigh, with support coming from Mary Astor, Phyllis Thaxter & Berry Kroeger. Robert Surtees photographs it from various California locations and Bronislau Kaper provides the music that is conducted by André Previn.

An Embittered former POW (Ryan) is hell bent on revenge against his former commanding officer (Heflin) who betrayed his men's planned escape attempt from a Nazi prison camp.

Superior film noir piece that is not only boasting a taut, intelligent and suspenseful story to work from, but also a collective group of film makers on tip top form. The film primarily looks at the point of view of the troubled soldiers who upon returning from war are mentally and physically shot. Some are thriving as the economy in the post war times has picked up, while others are carrying the legacy of battle - - with deep long memories gnawing away with every battle scarred step. They say time is a big healer, particularly with the passing of loved ones and the willingness to forgive those who have done you wrong. But the makers here are not in that frame of mind. The ghosts of the past are not content to sit around in Surtees' menacing shadows, they want out, and with Ryan & Heflin deftly channelling different, yet very flawed, characters, the result is a tough, and at times, fascinating viewing experience.

Zinnerman, one can reasonably assume, gave his heart for this one. Having fled Austria to escape the Nazis, his heart would be shattered as his parents would become part of that dark piece of history that encompassed the Holocaust. The grim texture {Surtees again dealing in genius like mood enhancements} of the piece carries an air of realism, a need to cast out some demons in the form of cinema. The ending will cause some consternation to first time viewers: definitely! But personally I think it's closure for the director; and to us the viewers it should (has) make for an interesting conversation piece about noir and the way to finish off one of its dark offspring. As for the cast? Ryan & Heflin are superb, two of the finest character actors from the golden era of Westerns and Noirs. But rest assured that here the girls are also their equal. Leigh gives gravitas to the role of the courageous, loving and fretful wife of Heflin's tortured soul. Thaxter blends common sense with anguished loyalty as the girlfriend of Ryan's malevolent cripple. While Astor almost steals the film from the guys as a brassy woman of the bars and streets who takes Heflin in off the now dangerous avenues and alleyways.

Smart, pangy and dripping with noir style, Act Of Violence has so much going for it, and equally as much to say. 8/10

What a great "character" shot when crippled Joe (Ryan) tries to cross the parade line, is turned back, only to limp obsessively across a moment later. Makes no difference to him that it's a patriotic parade. He's in his own world of revenge and by golly nothing's going to stop his mission. This one clever scene tells us more about Joe than a hundred lines of expository dialog.

It's aces all around for this front-rank noir. But I especially like the sneaky screenplay. Frank (Heflin) doesn't interrupt patriotic parades; instead, as ex-air force captain, he speaks at them. Plus, he's a friendly guy with a great young wife (Leigh) and toddler kid, a nice suburban home, and a growing business. Yes indeed, Frank is clearly Mr. America returned home successfully from the war. So why does the obsessed Joe want to kill Mr. America. That limp seems to point to a moral defect as well as a physical one, while he's got all the personality of a coiled rattler.

As a result, we have certain expectations about who these two guys are and how they will act as the suspense builds. But surprisingly, as events unfold, the screenplay peels back appearances with enough nuance that we may not be aware of the reversal until the end. And in the process, the movie produces one of the more subtly iconoclastic dramas of the noir period.

The casting here is flawless. It's Ryan at his darkest and most relentless, and Heflin at his plainest and low-key best. But I especially like the three women—Leigh, Thaxter, and Astor. Their parts are easily overlooked amidst the male-driven suspense, but each performs expertly in demanding roles. And unusual for noir, each tries to perform a healing role for her wounded man, though Pat's (Astor) methods are borrowed from the dark side. At the same time, throw in two icons from noir—the slippery Taylor Holmes (the shady lawyer) and the slimy Barry Kroeger (the hit-man), and you've got an all-star cast of characters.

My only reservation is with the last ten minutes. The depot and runaway car sequence was obviously staged to entertain the eye and not necessarily to be believed. I'm all for artistic license and the sequence is beautifully photographed-- it just strikes me as stagier and more artificial than it should be. Nonetheless, this is one of the more surprising and unusual noirs from the classic postwar period, and certainly merits a look-see.