Hold-Up

Certainly a lot of atmosphere from the 1950s on display here, and we are on the road plenty. One is definitely drawn into the program, and it is difficult not to be interested in the details of all that is passing by before our eyes on the screen. The expressive faces, which are so strongly captured by the camera, may seem uncomfortably close at times, especially since they aren't faces of what we may call appealing folks. Keep in mind that with no counter-balance from hero figures, it may be easy to fall into rooting for some of these bad guys. A grim, stark, and memorable viewing experience.

A well planned and executed train robbery is carried out in silence in twelve minutes. The take is over ten million dollars in gold. Now the six thieves -- Gene Raymond, Wayne Morris, Elisha Cook, Jr, Stafford Repp and Steven Rich -- have to get it past the roadblocks from border to border.

It's a decently done B movie, with some nice talent in front of the camera and behind it, too; Ernest Haller runs a nice camera, with an increasingly filled and claustrophobic screen. A little too much time is spent in chat, but what are you going to do when you're driving a truck several thousand miles, and the voice on the radio is always the same?

Once again, I am impressed by Gene Raymond, whom I had once written off as a pretty-boy actor from the 1930s. This was Wayne Morris' last movie shoot; one he had shot earlier sat on the shelves for a few years.

Being primarily a visual medium, one of the things film does best is illustrate the mechanics of complex items. I refer not only to the machinations of the caper plot so well achieved here, but also to big machines themselves -- trains, trucks, assembly lines. Many a great director has used the relentless workings of machines as a metaphor for inescapable fate -- think especially of Fritz Lang and the openings of Human Desire and Clash by Night.

The stars of Plunder Road are the machines themselves -- the overburdened trucks inching their way to freedom, the massive crane and huffing sabotaged train in the rain-pelted robbery scene, the bubbling cauldron at the foundry contributing to the ingenious escape plan, etc. The human characters are sketched briefly, with impressionistic strokes, but it's the mute mechanical accomplices that drive the plot and stick in the mind. This is best illustrated by the cleverly-inserted visit of a smog inspector, and again in the cruelly ironic downfall of the protagonists, who are at the mercy of their guileless vehicles.

That 10-minute opening is a real grabber. I'm still wondering whether the driving rain was real or not. If so, it must have made filming difficult as heck. The problem with an opening like this is once you've hit the highlight how do you fill the remainder, which could easily pale in comparison.

Still, it's no problem for this little gem. The remaining time amounts to a real nail-biter in getting away with the gold now that the gang has stolen it. Driving big rigs cross-country is cat-and-mouse with the cops the whole way, as details of the plan unfold, and we get acquainted with the gang members.

Raymond's effective as the disciplined mastermind. I think I counted one smile from him the whole time. Then there's the familiar mug of professional loser Cook Jr. who gets a regular guy role for once. And, of course, there's the underrated Wayne Morris as the dependable Commando, just two years away from an untimely passing.

My one gripe is with the tip-offs to the cops. They're flimsy and contrived, especially the police radio in Roly's (Repp) case. Too bad, because the rest of a tight script manages a surprisingly high degree of believability, thanks to screenwriter Steven Ritch who doubles here as race car guy Frankie.

I expect director Cornfield was hoping for a break-through film on the order of the previous year's The Killing (1956), which thrust Stanley Kubrick into the front rank. He doesn't get it, but he does get one heckuva good little heist film, and so do we. And, oh yes, I could have told the gang to stay off the LA freeways at rush hour.

Plunder Road is directed by Hubert Cornfield and written by Steven Ritch and Jack Charney. It stars Gene Raymond, Jeanne Cooper, Wayne Morris, Elisha Cook Jr. and Stafford Repp. Music is by Irving Gertz and cinematography by Ernest Haller.

After pulling off a daring train hold-up, a gang of thieves split up and hit the roads to meet up in Los Angeles in readiness to share their gold bullion spoils...

A poverty row heist noir late in the classic cycle, Plunder Road gets in and does the job without fuss and filler and with no little style. Running at just 72 minutes in length, the first portion of film is devoted to the intricate robbery that is set at night in the sheeting rain (15 minutes worth) and with barely a word spoken. It's meticulous planning, and thus this appears to be one highly tuned and professional gang of thieves. The rest of the film follows the gang, now travelling in three different vehicles, heading straight to noirville as their inadequacies and paranoia's come to the fore and noir's old faithful friend the vagaries of fate shows it's smirking face.

Cornfield and Haller (Mildred Pierce/The Verdict) atmospherically photograph the picture, using the Scope format to emphasise the impending implosion of the characters' plans as they move through the various locales and situations. It's solidly performed by the cast, with old noir hand Cook Junior doing what he does best, and Cornfield manages to eek out much suspense from what essentially is a simple story. The ending is all a bit too quick, some contrivances are to be taken with a pinch of salt, while Gertz's score is very intrusive for the whole 15 minutes heist sequence. However, this is a good and enjoyable film noir experience, even though it doesn't quite push towards the upper echelons of other heist movies in the film noir universe. 7/10