Un pacte avec le diable

Alias Nick Beal (AKA: A few other titles...) is directed by John Farrow and adapted to screenplay by Jonathan Latimer from the Mindret Lord story. It stars Ray Milland, Audrey Totter, Thomas Mitchell and George Macready. Music is by Franz Waxman and cinematography by Lionel Lindon.

It's the Faustian legend filmed through film noir filters as Thomas Mitchell's politician unwittingly makes a deal with Ray Milland's suspicious Nick Beal.

Nicholas Beal - Agent.

It's all fogs, smogs and smoky pubs here, it's 1949 and John Farrow and his team are having a great time of things blending Faust with politico machinations. Narrative thrust comes by way of corruption and character disintegration, sprinkled naturally with your good old cinematic staple of good versus evil in bold type.

Don't touch him! He doesn't like it!

Milland is superb here, his Nick Beal is the ultimate Machiavellian Mannipulator, and the chief film makers really bring these traits to the fore. Beal is a bundle of smug grins and glinting eyes, he just appears in scenes, Farrow cunningly using various props and persons to suddenly unleash his little old devil when he is least expected. Around Nicky there are subtle changes of clothes and snatches of dialogue that hit the requisite devilish notes, Totter is our darling who is caught in Old Nick's trap, Mitchell (great) even more so.

The last time I was here was quite exciting. City was on fire. Picked up quite a lot of recruits that night. Made quite a transportation problem.

Lionel Lindon and Franz Waxman are also key components to what makes the pic work. Waxman (Sunset Blvd.) deftly shifts between big bass drums for thunder clap effects, to delicate swirls that give off other worldly - eerie - effects. Lindon (I Want to Live!) does great work isolating the eyes in light, while his fog and shadows work wouldn't be amiss in a Val Lewton picture.

This is a criminally under seen movie, it's far from perfect because the collage of genre influences give it a very unbalanced feel, but there's so much fun, spookiness and technical craft on show to make it a must see movie for fans of the stars, noir and supernatural tinged pictures. 8/10

A rare film-strange considering its many virtues.Ray Milland is perfect as cool diabolical devil in disguise Nick Beal.Thomas Mitchell is a modern Faust who accepts evil methods as a means of becoming Governor (ironically to do good deeds when in office!)Audrey Totter plays an archetypal 40's "dame" splendidly-tough,sexy with pretty elastic principles,but with a conscience under the varnish.This movie is full of great scenes -director John Farrow always gets it just right-I don't think he ever reached these heights again-watch the moment in the apartment where Donna realizes with horror that both she and Foster are saying exactly the words Beal said they would,and the scene where Beal surprises Donna at the station by sliding the cigarette case down the bar.The only real minus for some audiences today is the "studiobound" production,though for me this enhances the claustrophobic "noir" atmosphere of the film.The splendid Franz Waxman score nicely complements the action.

Nick Beal (not his real name) has a haunting way of whistling in the fog, in which he seems at home. It's a symbol of the mystery of the man, which softly, like the fog itself, reveals itself to us. There are absorbing scenes involving Ray Milland's interplays with George Macready, Thomas Mitchell and Audrey Totter, and there is Franz Waxman's soundtrack score, all contributing to the mood of apprehension which prevails throughout in this quiet study of power. Anything said further here would reveal what we soon learn of .... well, of the man who whistles. Highly recommended.

Rarely spotted on TV even by midweek insomniacs, brushed aside even by aficionados of the Hollywood past, Alias Nick Beal is a top-notch movie that puzzlingly languishes in limbo. It's an unusual but successful cross of the supernatural fantasy films popular in the forties – like Here Comes Mr. Jordan, Heaven Can Wait, The Devil and Daniel Webster – with the grittier conflicts of the big-city exposés in film noir.

Thomas Mitchell, a progressive and muckraking mayor, won't rest easy until he eradicates corruption from his unnamed town. But incriminating ledgers detailing the graft of a rival political-machine boss have been burned. Mitchell gets a call asking for a mysterious meeting at a waterfront bar, The China Coast Café, where, like a wraith out of the harbor fogs, materializes Ray Milland. Ordering Barbados rum (with its voodooish connotations), he introduces himself as Nick Beal, which seems to be the short Americanization of Beelzebub. He offers Mitchell the pristine ledgers, from which the mayor can nail down a conviction and propel himself to the governor's mansion; trouble is, now he's stuck with the sinister Beal.

Unflappable in his suavity, Milland stays pitchfork-perfect in his scheme to strip Mitchell of his honesty and ideals. He enlists the help of bar floozie Audrey Totter, who turns herself into Mitchell's Gal Friday and diverts his affections from his wife (and conscience) Geraldine Wall. And every time Mitchell thinks he's compromised his principles for the last time or struck his final dirty bargain, in slithers Milland with another twist of the knife, a brand-new temptation. Finally elected to the statehouse, Mitchell finds that he's sold his soul to the very forces that he had always fought...

Alias Nick Beal has to be, hands down, the most sure-footed movie John Farrow ever directed; he never slips in sustaining its spectral look or precarious tone. Totter, too, excels in a part that tests her range, from a cat-fighter in a sleazy dive through efficient political aide to repentant cat's-paw. This may be her most fetching performance, particularly in her drunken exchange with a bartender: `What time is it?' `You just asked me that.' `I didn't ask you what I just asked you, I asked you what time it is.' Mitchell and Milland can't be faulted at the top of a cast that includes George Macready as a preacher who can't quite place Milland: `Have you ever had your portrait painted?' he gingerly inquires. `Yes – by Rembrandt in 1655," comes the smug retort. (The screenplay is by Jonathan Latimer, who also penned The Glass Key, Nocturne, They Won't Believe Me, Night Has A Thousand Eyes, and The Big Clock.)

This morality tale about the seduction and fall of a promising politician echoes themes explored in the same year's All The King's Men but adds a fanciful metaphysical dimension. That may look like a cop-out, a way to avoid tackling the issues realistically, but the metaphysics can be seen as metaphorical – Satan can be a symbol (and as Macready remarks, maybe he knows it's the twentieth century, too). Whatever one's take on The Spirit That Denies, the movie survives triumphantly on its own terms – the splendid and satisfying Alias Nick Beal doesn't deserve the obscurity that has come to enshroud it.

Alias Nick Beal (1949)

A nice discovery! I'd never heard of this film, though I pride myself on following the noirs that are out there (mostly on TCM these days, having used up all the DVD released films). If you start with some doubt in the overly dramatic beginning credits (lightning, rain, and a Waxman score that is over the top), don't quit. We get a classic noir voice over by leading man Ray Milland, and then we're in the classic noir milieus.

Thomas Mitchell is at first the main man, and he's great in his inimitable way (though always better in supporting roles). And other character actors fill in the scenes as we see a man ready to run for governor and a whirlwind of corruption and wheeling around him. This doesn't sound like a noir, actually, but call it a crime and suspense film. It's good, moves fast, keeps an edge.

Milland shares the lead, entering on a foggy dock as the music turns dour. Cinematographer Lionel Linden has a field day with dramatic light and atmosphere (he's most famous for "Manchurian Candidate," though see "Blue Dahlia" for starters.) And he helps a lot because the movie is otherwise a kind of clever drama. There is one trick behind it all, which I can't mention, and you might not buy into it (and it certainly makes this a weird noir, and maybe even a weird crime film). But it makes it original in all the dark interiors and night scenes.

So what makes the film not quite click? One is Milland, who is stiff and dry (as usual). The other is Mitchell, who has a wonderful ease on camera but who doesn't have the bearing of a powerful man—a savvy top notch prosecutor who is being swept into high end politics. And the "trick" to it all makes it less worldly and gritty than this kind of scenario needs. It is overall a kind of Faust story—the devil tempting a good man who is willing to "sell his soul" to do the right thing.

And what of Audrey Totter, you ask? Yes, she's the usual wonderful "dame," the femme fatale with airs, in this case. Her role is too small and too restrained, however. In fact, maybe everyone is restrained, a bit, not rising to the level of the visuals, which are not a bit restrained.

That Hollywood ending? Read your Faust.