1952: The Narrow Margin

The Narrow Margin (Fleischer, 1952) 8/10

"What kind of a dish?" (Forbes)
"A sixty cent special: cheap, flashy, strictly poison under the gravy" (Brown on Mrs. Neall)

In the annals of B-movie history, there is often a debate among critics and scholars as to what is the greatest low-budget production of Hollywood's Golden era. Generally, two films come up within this discourse. The first is Edgar G. Ullmer's 1946 film Detour; the second is Richard Fleischer's incomparable 1952 masterstroke The Narrow Margin.

Like Detour, Fleischer's film operates in the hard-boiled cynical world of Film Noir; but while Ullmer's film was financed by forgotten Poverty Row studio PMC, Fleischer had the benefit at working at RKO: a studio which, albeit was no longer the dynamic force it had been two decades earlier, was still among Hollywood's classic brand.

While film critics and cultists have often placed Detour on an unfounded critical plateau, The Narrow Margin often gets lost in the critical mix. Yet with its taut, economical pace, razor sharp dialogue and coiled narrative, the film is an exemplary showcase of how to construct a "B" picture. The high esteem for The Narrow Margin both then and now, can be seen in its 1952 Academy Award nomination for Best Story and its later unsuccessful 1990 remake with Gene Hackman in the starring role.

Set almost entirely on a train, The Narrow Margin begins at Chicago's Union Station were L.A. detective Walter Brown (Charles McGraw) and his partner Gus Forbes (Don Beddoe) arrive to collect Mrs. Neall (Marie Windsor) a saucy widowed gangster's moll. Brown's job is to protect Mrs. Neall en route to Los Angeles were she is to testify before a grand jury. Almost immediately, the vitrolic relationship between Brown and Neall is born; after the cigar-chomping Forbes is mercilessly gunned down as the pair attempt to secretly whisk Neall out of town.

However to Brown's good fortune, the fleeing assassin fails to catch a glimpse of Mrs Neall descending the staircase. After scampering onboard a train, Brown begins a game of cat and mouse with a string of mysterious men all out to silence Neall before she reaches California: including a bulging obese man named Jennings (Paul Maxey), a wiry moustached hired-hand (David Clarke) and a small-time businessman named Yost (Peter Brocco). Each uses different methods ranging from intimidation to bribery in order to ensnare Neall into their oily palms; but despite his gritty stare Brown does not bite, as he affirms his duty to protect the venemous Mrs. Neall, as well a group of innocent passengers who unknowingly become a part of this case of hidden identity.

One of the late entries into the classic Noir period, The Narrow Margin is a smart, nimble thriller which snarls through its 71 minute running time. Notable for its use of handheld cameras, Fleischer's film is a claustrophobic exploration of themes of identity, duty and corporate crime. One can find traces of its brooding malevolence in later films such as Peter Yates' Bullitt, Alfred Hitchcock's North By Northwest and John Boorman's Point Blank. Yet what separates Fleischer's film from the former two in particular is the intense atmosphere of seething contempt-similar to that found in Fritz Lang's The Big Heat from the same year.

Featuring "the King and Queen of the B's" in Charles McGraw and Marie Windsor respectively, Fleischer utilizes their sneering and conniving personas to great effect. McGraw's Brown predates the type of bitter cops which would be seen in films such as Dirty Harry. There is not much really likeable about Brown in his brooding, caustic approach to social interaction and life in general.

But underneath his hard exterior, there is a man who feels anguish about the death of his partner and the effect it will have on others. The smoky-voiced Brown may not be able to relate or confer with others on a human platform, but this arguably due to his nature as a bitter and underpaid law enforcement officer. Brown's approach to ethical procedure is acidic, but his response to duty and preserving the safety of others is altruistic and paramount.

The selflessness of Brown's work is magnified by the ambigious notion of Neall's identity. Locked in Forbes' cabin, Neall remains hidden to the crooks and criminals who are lusting for her blood outside. But since the hitmen are unaware of what Neall looks like, this becomes a problematic situation for Brown. The detective's repeated interactions with a likeable blonde woman named Mrs. Sinclair begins to arouse suspiscion that perhaps she is the mysterious Neall: extending Brown's need to protect multiple passengers.

The enigmatic nature of identity also amplifies the suspense of Fleischer's film. Since the assassins are unaware of Neall's whereabouts and Brown is unable to discern who is and isn't a possible threat, Fleischer's film aggressively plays with the concept of identity. Everyone in The Narrow Margin from the hefty man who continually blocks the corridors to the conductor is a possible suspect.

Snaking through corridors, George E. Diskant's expressionist and abrasive camera captures the claustrophobic intensity of The Narrow Margin's closed quarters, which intensifies Brown's need to remain alert at all times: as characters disappear and reappear into frame at the blink of an eye. Furthermore, Fleischer maximizes the nature of train travel by making every possible layover and stop a dangerous situation. The repeated taps on doors and the need to remain silent, also heighten the film's suspense and the weariness of McGraw's volatile sub-Kirk Douglas persona.

Like Boorman's Point Blank almost fifteen years later, The Narrow Margin explores the sophistication of modern crime. The organization which is keen to silence Mrs. Neall is headed by Brocco's Yost-incidentally also the name of a similarly ambigious character in Boorman's film- who offers Brown $30,000 in return for Neall's head. The mild-mannered Yost is not a typical criminal.

Balding and short, Yost is employed as a equipment salesmen in Chicago and refuses to carry a gun as he abhors them Yost talks to Brown about Neall in the language of modern business. He refers to his employer as a respected company and sees any compromise the pair can arrange as a viable business deal. In Yost, Fleischer thus demonstrates the multi-faceted nature of modern crime: as organizations working under respectable pretences and preferring to use diplomacy first and force second in order to achieve their means.

Cheaply crafted, yet aesthetically sharp Richard Fleischer's 1952 film The Narrow Margin is a dark biting thriller which fleshes out its intensions almost immediately. Using rapid-fire editing and ingenious sound design, Fleischer's film is able to turn small gems out of silent glances between characters and almost meaningless effects such as the sound of Neall's scratchy nail file turning into a pacy train wheel. Although Fleischer was to go on to creating illustrious A-pictures such as 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea and The Vikings, he rarely ever came close to capturing the raw fury, excitement and intensity contained in this ultimate "Killer B."

* The Narrow Margin is available on Warner Home Video in their Film Noir Collection V2 boxset

Other Richard Fleischer Films Reviewed:
Compulsion (1959) 6/10

Copyright 2007 8½ Cinematheque

1959: Compulsion

Compulsion (1959, Fleischer) 6/10

"Please Artie, I'll Do Anything You Say?" (Judd Steiner)

In what was dubbed "The Crime of the Century," two men Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were convicted of murdering fourteen year old Bobby Franks in a south Chicago park. In 1924, Chicago was in the midst of the Prohibition era. The city became home to gangsters such as Al Capone and later John Dillinger, as organized crime became commonplace in the city.

Therefore what made the Leopold and Loeb case so shocking was that the two men in question were neither gangsters or hoodlums, but teenage intellectuals fervorously attempting to create the perfect crime. In 1924, Leopold and Loeb were amongst the brightest individuals in America. Nineteen year old Leopold was a revered ornithologist, spoke five languages and was attending law school at the University of Chicago; Loeb was the youngest graduate of the University of Michigan and was already taking post-graduate law classes at the University of Chicago when he met Leopold.

Misappropriating Nietzschean logic and ideas such as the Übermensch, the pair believed their intellectual superiority and affluent backgrounds placed them beyond the reproach of the law. To apply their theory, the youngsters kidnapped Bobby Franks, murdered him and dumped his body in a culvert under a railroad track on the outskirts of Chicago. Using hydrochloric acid, the pair disfiguired Franks' body and wrote a ransom letter to the deceased teenager's wealthy parents. The purpose of the ransom letter was to fool police into believing that a motivated individual had kidnapped Bobby Franks and was holding him for ransom.

But when Tony Minke, a Polish immigrant, found Franks' body, the investigation changed. A pair of prescription glasses were recovered at the crime scene, which officials traced back to Nathan Leopold. Eventually, the pairs' alibis broke down, as each publicly blamed the other for the crime. Despite arrogantly claiming that their crime was motiveless and simply driven by "the thrill," the teenagers' wealthy parents hired famed trial lawyer Clarence Darrow to defend the pair. The vile and luird nature of the crime disturbed the nation. Despite neither came from practicing Jewish homes, their family's ancesteral roots resulted in an anti-Semetic fervor, which splintered into groups which also targeted the openly agnostic Darrow and the homosexual relationship Leopold and Loeb shared.

The Leopold and Loeb story has captivated audiences since the mid-Twenties. Hollywood has loosely based several films on the characters and events surrounding the trial. Films such as Alfred Hitchcock's 1948 film Rope, Tom Kalin's 1991 picture Swoon and Barbet Schroeder's Murder By Numbers have each taken various elements and positions from the case as the fulcrum of their story. Despite being based on a fictionalized treatment of the case by Meyer Levin, Richard Fleischer's 1959 film Compulsion is arguably the film which sticks closest to the facts of the case.

Beginning in media res the film stars Dean Stockwell and Bradford Dillman as the fictionalized Leopold and Loeb, Judd Steiner and Artie Straus. From the film's opening sequence, Fleischer fleshes out the psychological fabrc of his two central characters. Hurtling away from the scene of the crime in their rented car, the pair celebrate their success at committing an apparently "perfect murder." But when in their drunken haste, the pair almost topple a local drunk, the boys' true nature comes to the forefront; as the sadistic and arrogant Artie (Dillman) orders the sensitive and anxious Judd (Stockwell) to run down the man. In a rare act of defiance, Judd resists by swerving away.

Quietly lauding his triumph over the police, Artie is horrified to learn that a pair of glasses were recovered at the crime scene. But to Judd's dismay, Artie refuses to discuss an alibi for the pair, as he believes the pair have outwitted the police. But soon Artie's flamboyant interactions with local police officers catches up with him, as the law uses their solitary piece of evidence to connect Artie and Judd to crime: culminating in a legal trial featuring Clarence Darrow-esque lawyer Jonathon Wilk (Orson Welles).

Ideas of power and presentation are at the forefront of Compulsion. Arrogantly believing his intellectual abilities override his moral duties, Artie openly disparages professors, students and lawmen. His blind admiration for Nietzsche's philosophies results in his misinterpretation of the German author's writings. He places his entire faith in the belief that he is a superintellect and therefore above morality.

Aware of Judd's submissive attitudes, Artie regularly exploits this facet of his friend's personality for his own will. Through suggestive language and verbal abuse, Artie uses the veneration his friend holds toward him for malicious ends. His callousness is evident in the swiftness with which he abandons his lone friend when the latter needs him most. Yet, when Judd quietly attempts to foster new friendships, Artie openly mocks his friend's decision to resort to fraternizing with a less academically refined element.

Throughout Compulsion Fleischer sets up a dichotomy within a dichotomy: first showing the separate attitudes of Steiner and Straus; and then indulging in how each character creates a public persona to mask their internalized contempt. The boys' status as prodigies at the University of Chicago makes them appear unlikely criminals in the eyes of the law, as does their wealthy parentage. To enchance their public reputations, the two law students also capitalize on their family's affluence and position within the community.

Around journalists and police officers, Artie comes across as a charming, affable and overly "helpful." But in the company of Judd he is tyrannical, menacing and openly mentally ill. In an era when resourcefulness and utility were prevalent character traits in cinema, Artie is able to quickly adapt his persona and actions to his surroundings such as the rapidity with which he secretly disposes of Judd's typwriter. But we also see his sadism, when he takes Judd to a local slaughterhouse: eagerly desiring to watch the bludgeoning of sheep.

In one of the film's most memorable scenes, Artie uses a Teddy Bear he commonly carries around to demonstrate to Judd his despisal of the other's foolishness; yet when Judd's brother enters the room and interrogates Artie as to why he is carrying around a children's toy, the genius removes the bear's head to reveal a hip flask filled with whiskey. Interestingly given his persona, his attire and his close relationship with his mother, one must wonder whether Alfred Hitchcock would use Dillman's Artie as the basis for Norman Bates the following year.

Despite his quiet nature, Stockwell's Judd also has two different personas. Around Artie he is acquiescent and distressed, while in the company of others, he is overly polite and timid. When Artie orders Judd to rape a female colleague Ruth (Diane Varsi) on a private birdwatching trip, Fleischer shows the internalized struggle Judd faces. On the one hand he desires to please Artie; on the other we can see as others believe, he is incapable of commiting such heinous acts on his own accord.

At the core of Judd's attempts to satisfy Artie's whims is the film's underlying homoerotic nature. Due to censorship restraints during the period, Fleischer craftily disguises this bond through coded dialogue and character positioning. The latter is exacted by cinematographer William Mellor, who captures the pair in close proxomity and often facing each other to express the possibility of an erotic relationship. In the film's brief scenes with Judd's brother Max (Richard Anderson), the latter repeatedly expresses his distate for the pair's odd relationship involving hours "giggling" in his room with Artie. Max even suggests to Judd that he needs to participate in manly quests such as baseball or chasing girls. Throughout the film, Judd appears to be combating his sexual identity: unwilling to admit his homosexuality, but unable to hold any genuine heterosexual lust for the opposite sex.

In Compulsion, Artie associates with two of the film's most feminine characters: his mother and Judd. When Judd attempts to go on a heterosexual date with Ruth, Artie responds with aggressive sarcasm to mask his internalized hurt. Yet on the date, Judd fails to find heterosexual intimacy with Ruth: eventually resorting to hyper-masculine acts of aggression and violence, after his attempts to lust for her fail. Ironically, it is the characteristics such as sensitivity and intelligence, which other male characters ridicule in Judd that endears him to Ruth and are exploiting by Artie.

It is this psycho-sexual interplay between Artie and Judd, as well as their erroneous methodology and intentions which are the strong points of Compulsion. The brutal and innovative first half of Compulsion is fascinating due to Stockwell and Dillman's strong lead performances.But. despite being famed for a rabble-rousing cameo effort by Orson Welles in the film's final act. the film noticably loses much of its potency when it shifts from psychological combativeness to standard courtroom drama.

At the 1959 Cannes Film Festival, Stockwell, Dillman and Orson Welles shared the unique honour of the festival's best acting award. Imbued with ad-libbed theatricality, Welles' speech on the moral implications of the death penalty is steeped in poetic liberal concepts of justice; yet it is nowhere near as absorbing as the film's edgy first act. Mellor's off-kilter expressionistic cinematography exemplifies the mental state of Steiner and Straus, but it too is tamed once Welles steps into the frame. Fleischer's point of view also changes to a blunter, drier perspective: resulting in Stockwell and Dillman becoming mere extras once the film enters the courtroom.

* Compulsion is available on R1 DVD through Fox Home Video

Other Richard Fleischer Films Reviewed:
The Narrow Margin (1952) 8/10

Copyright 2007 8½ Cinematheque