This Gun For Hire

This Gun For Hire (Frank Tuttle, 1942) We talked about James Cagney's sole directorial effort—Short Cut To Hell—in May (that long ago?). My opinion of Cagney is exospherically high, but the film he made was not all that great, despite having as its source a well-regarded early Graham Greene novel. Although it had its moments, it just wasn't all that good; it was (in my opinion) a problem with the creepy lead, and lackluster script and...direction (Cagney preferred producing over directing—he didn't like telling people what to do, he said).

But, Short Cut To Hell was a remake of a significant 1942 Paramount film that was an early example of film noir—which is usually associated with the POST-war period of cynicism in the world-view—and that turned a slight Hollywood contract player* into a star, Alan Walbridge Ladd Jr. (as proof, look at the poster where Ladd is buried at the bottom—that would change on subsequent one-sheets).**

Ladd plays Philip Raven, and we first meet him in a dingy apartment, sweating in a slept-in suit and tie when his alarm clock going off. Time to go to work. He pulls out a folder and puts his gun in it. He feeds a visiting stray-cat and roughs up the house-maid who tries to shoo it away. Raven's a cat-person. Stands to reason. Cats are independent. Dogs are exceedingly loyal and might slow you down. But, Raven, despite the ornithological name, is a feral stray—he's loyal to no one and has no ties. He does freelance work and once he's paid, he's gone. Don't pay him...well, that's just one more job. Work is tough, but it's steady.

Not so much for Ellen Graham (Veronica Lake). Oh, she has skills—she's a cabaret performer who sings and does sleight-of-hand. But, the offers are few and far-between and usually have hands attached to them. That's okay, though, she likes the looks on would-be-lotharios' faces when she tells them her boyfriend (Robert Preston) is a cop. His work is steady, too, and so much so that he can't accompany Ellen for an audition she's got at a club. Maybe he should have. Because here is where things start to get complicated.

That nightclub she's auditioning for is owned by Willard Gates (Laird Cregar), who's also a busy man. He has two jobs. Besides the nightclub, he's a problem-solver for Nitro Chemical under the direct supervision of Alvin Brewster (Tully Marshall), who isn't above a little advantageous war-profiteering by selling to the country's enemies. And he's just hired Raven to kill a guy who's got a dossier on the sale and is planning to blackmail Nitro Chemical with it. Raven does his usual efficient job of axing the blackmailer and his secretary, but he's a bit of a "one-and-done" kind of guy.

His employer, Gates, plays a long game. He pays off Raven with marked bills, then goes to the police to report that Nitro has had money stolen from its payroll and (fortuitously!) has the serial numbers of the bills that were stolen. And guess who the detective is that he gives the list to? Ellen's boyfriend, natch! If Raven spends any of that money, it's going to be traced right back to him. Gates gets rid of the blackmailer and the guy hired to kill him in one swoop. Nitro Chemical can continue to sell poison gas to the Japanese. Simple.

Not so fast. On one front, Ellen is given a detour after her audition by the federal government in the form of Senator Burnett (Roger Imhof), who wants her new job at Gates' nightclub to be a front for spying on her employer. She's an all-American gal, so she says "Yes, sir!" Meanwhile, Raven is starting to feel the heat from those marked bills he's been using around town, so much so that he barely manages to avoid a stake-out at the flea-bag hotel he's staying at. He decides that he better blow San Francisco as fast as possible...and find that weasel Gates and make him pay...with interest. He heads to the train station to get a train to Los Angeles, where Gates is headquartered.

Small world. Gates is heading home on the train first class, and so is his new hire, Ellen. Smaller train. Ellen and Raven end up seated next to each other and rather than "meet cute" they "meet loot" when he rifles through her billfold for some loose change. She notices that she's a bit lighter in dough, and she tells him to fork it back or she's calling the porter. Raven's on the run, so he sheepishly hands back the pickings and grunts an apology, and she keeps a close stink-eye on the guy.

And Gates? He's about to go to the dining car (not that he could use skipping a meal) when he spies Raven and Ellen sitting next to each in coach. He gets spooked and has the porter wire ahead to Los Angeles that the man the San Francisco cops are looking for is ON THAT TRAIN! How does he know what the guy looks like when they don't even know? W-well...never mind that, he's ON THAT TRAIN!

Once everybody's in Los Angeles is when things turn a little nasty: Raven takes Ellen hostage but let's her go, boyfriend starts to panic and up the search for Raven, Ellen gets invited to Gates' house for dinner and because she's a good little soldier/spy, she goes, Gates' sadistic man-servant (Marc Lawrence) has pretty twisted ideas of how to get rid of her, Raven comes a-stalkin' for Gates with an eye toward murder, and pretty soon, bullets are flying and people are running all around Los Angeles, trying to dodge those bullets.

Director Frank Tuttle is not on anyone's list of great, influential directors, but his work on this and another Ladd/Lake film—an adaptation (the second, in fact) of Dashiell Hammett's The Glass Key—at least earns him some mention in any article on the development of film noir. He'd worked from the silent days of 1922 to 1959 (where he ended his career working on two pot-boilers for Ladd's production company). His primary directing days were for Paramount Pictures, but, a member of the Communist Party, he was blacklisted and, like many others, moved to Europe where he could still be considered for work. Returning to Hollywood years later, he'd pick up work from Ladd, who was loyal to the man who made him a star, but also because Tuttle was stylish without doing any damage to a budget.

I've always liked Lake—although her male co-stars often complained about her—she's always come across as someone who had a thought in their head, even playing milquetoast roles. She had a confident swagger about her and made the most out of comic lines, and walked that fine tightrope of sarcasm, but without any real malice. Both men and women liked her, which made her something of a sensation (and may I say that Lauren Bacall owed her a lot!). She was barely 20 making This Gun For Hire—having just finished filming Sullivan's Travels.

Ladd was ten years older, but seemed younger and more vulnerable, certainly quieter and more restrained. But, there was a cold dead-ness in his eyes, that made an audience curious and commanded their attention, and he was All-American handsome, but not in a modelish way. Ladd looked more comfortable frying up eggs than having them served to him, and he radiated working class that most stars couldn't. He'd look at a glass of champagne that was handed to him before he drank it. He was relatable—something the kid who played the part in Cagney's version certainly wasn't.

So, call it noir-lite, with its respect for higher authority and its "choir of angels" ending, but This Gun For Hire is, if not a blueprint, at least a first-draft rendering of what would pass for the naked bulbs and slanting shades and grit of film noir. It made bad look really good.

* Ladd had been in films since 1932 in scores of small roles--you can see him in the shadows in the screening room at the beginning and walking the halls of Xanadu at the end in Citizen Kane.

 

**

Nazi Agent

Nazi Agent (Jules Dassin, 1942) The first film of director Jules Dassin—for no less a studio than M-G-M—was a tough one to start with, both technically and politically. Nazi Agent was released in March of 1942, just four months after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Hawaii—the U.S. only declared war on Nazi Germany (and Imperial Japan) on December 11, 1941. It was certainly in production before those events (filming started in November of 1941). Even after the Nazi's invaded Poland in 1939, Hollywood kept fairly silent on the subject, even if British films were more vocal. Before Pearl Harbor, there were Chaplin's The Great Dictator, Hawks' Sergeant York (obliquely promoting vigilance), Confessions of a Nazi Spy, and A Yank in the R.A.F. (written by Darryl F. Zanuck under a pseudonym). There was a reason for this: there was a strident line of isolationist viewpoints in the U.S.—"America First," if you will—that very publicly urged against the intervention of the States in any conflict in Europe—among them were British Ambassador Joseph P. Kennedy and famed pilot Charles Lindbergh—either because they saw Hitler as no threat or because the government needed to concentrate on issues at home (America was still re-building its economy after 1929 stock market crash). President Roosevelt was under constant pressure to keep the U.S. out of the conflict, even while European allies were urging him to take action (before the shipping of supplies, that is).

Things were such that the U.S. Senate launched an investigation in September of 1941 into any attempt Hollywood might be making to try and fan the flames of war, citing that "at least twenty pictures in the last year designed to drug the reason of the American people, set aflame their emotions, turn their hatred into a blaze, fill them with fear that Hitler will come over here and capture them." It was pointed out that the heads of the studios were mostly Jewish and might be suspected of promoting some sort of propaganda over alleged "holocausts." Imagine that. In fact, the studio's were quite mindful of the criticisms and deliberately chose a path of least controversy for fear of offending European audiences and even firing "non-Aryan" employees of the German offices at the Reich's request.

So, you can see why making a film like Nazi Agent might be a concern.

On the other hand, it is also a daunting first film in that it relies on a "trick," both artistic and technical: the story of twin brothers—one now a naturalized citizen and the other, a Nazi spy using his position as the German consul to the U.S.—it relied on the lead actor to play two different parts of different temperaments, as well as for the gentler of the two to pose as his more ruthless brother for a time; the film required trick photography with the actor portraying different characters on different sides of the screen, conversing with each other, meeting each others' eye-lines—this was well-done by a veteran director like John Ford in The Whole Town's Talking, but for a first-time director like Dassin?

To say it is credible work—to the point where you don't question it—says a lot. Dassin has an able ally in lead actor Conrad Veidt—he would play the Nazi Major Heinrich Strasser in Casablanca in a few months and played a similar role, shortly before, as a U.S. Nazi ring-leader (also with Bogart) in Warners' All Through the Night—who had been acting in films since 1916, appearing in the landmark The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and top-lined in films on both sides of the Atlantic, playing both romantic leads and villains.* Veidt manages to clearly delineate each brother instantly with expression and body language (he did start in silent films, after all) and, when the "good" twin takes over the role of the "bad" one, is just capable enough to pull off the masquerade to convince his fellow German spies without betraying to the audience that he is still the same man that we have sympathy for. 

It's an amazing performance of the "prince-and-pauper" variety and Dassin's technical skills complete the illusion by never calling attention to the trickery, keeping the set-up's dramatically neutral and focusing on the performances (uh...performance?) which is where the real magic is happening.

In the meantime, the film manages to deliver the intended message—Nazi's look just like us. So be vigilant.

And in 2017, they still do. And now is not the time to let your guard down.

* Veidt acted in Germany until he fled with his Jewish wife Ilona to Britain in 1933. He moved to Hollywood in 1941—donating his life savings to the British government for their war effort—in the hopes that he would be cast as Nazi's (he had it in his contract that they should always be villains) to encourage the making of films promoting the U.S. entering the war. After Casablanca, he would make one more film before dying of a massive heart attack while playing golf on April 3rd, 1943.