#27: The Big Combo (Joseph H. Lewis, 1955)

Released: February 13, 1955

Director: Joseph H. Lewis; Screenplay: Philip Yordan; Cinematography: John Alton; Music: David Raskin; Producer: Sidney Harmon; Studio: Allied Artists

Cast: Cornel Wilde (Police Lt. Leonard Diamond), Richard Conte (Mr. Brown), Brian Donlevy (Joe McClure), Jean Wallace (Susan Lowell), Robert Middleton (Police Capt. Peterson), Lee Van Cleef (Fante), Earl Holliman (Mingo), Helen Walker (Alicia Brown), Jay Adler (Sam Hill), John Hoyt (Nils Dreyer), Ted de Corsia (Bettini), Helene Stanton (Rita)

- “First is first and second is nobody…”

I remember when I first made a conscious decision to really dig into film noir, I began visiting various noir web sites and message boards in search of as many recommendations as I could find. I got some great advice in the process, but as I would do for any newcomer to noir who asked for names of films, the majority of the recommendations centered on those that enjoyed a strong reputation in cinema in general, not just noir – Double Indemnity, The Maltese Falcon, Out of the Past, and similar bona fide classics. The advice was still important, pointing me in the right direction on a number of films, but I remember one post in particular when somebody basically said this to me: “All of the recommendations so far definitely point out the most important films in noir, but if you want to see the best, do yourself a favor and get a copy of ‘The Big Combo.’” I promptly did just that, ordering the DVD and quickly realizing it was one of the finest noirs that I had yet seen. The more interested I became in noir, and the more that I read and learned about it, I came to realize that The Big Combo also enjoys a strong reputation in noir circles. Concerning film in general, though, it is not often talked about in the same breath as those previously mentioned classics, but it deserves to be.

Like yesterday’s director, Edgar G. Ulmer, Joseph H. Lewis is assessed as one of the finest directors to emerge from Poverty Row. Lewis produced two highly thought of noirs with 1950’s Gun Crazy and this gem that came near the end of the classic noir cycle. Between the two, Gun Crazy enjoys more widespread critical acclaim, but there isn’t much of a debate in my own very personal assessment – this is the best film that Lewis ever made. Perhaps not the “greatest” or most important, but for me it is his most entertaining and best-looking.


As is common throughout noir, obsession abounds in this tale about one police officer who is determined to unravel the mystery surrounding a crime boss. Leonard Diamond (Cornel Wilde) follows everything that mob boss Mr. Brown (Richard Conte) does. He tracks his movements, his illicit operations, his business partners, and even the women that he pursues. His entire life is devoted to toppling the Brown syndicate. Brown, meanwhile, is equally as enamored with thrill-seeking society girl Susan Lowell (Jean Wallace), who stays with Brown despite the horrible treatment that she receives from him. The obsessions of each of these characters seem too strong for any of them to break, meaning that things become explosive when the three of them become entangled.


The thing that initially struck me about this film is that for a so-called B-movie, it boasts an incredibly strong cast full names that are recognizable to cineastes of today. I don’t know how large its budget was, but it was big enough to land noir staples like Richard Conte, Cornel Wilde and Brian Donlevy. Even with such names in the credits, the movie maintains the visceral, gritty feel of the best B-noirs. To be sure, Lewis must be given much credit for this strength, but the biggest factor in maintaining this atmosphere is the photography of John Alton. It is nothing short of divine. The stark contrasts between black and white are almost dream-like, with fog rising around and obscuring characters to create hallucinatory effects. Just look at the screen cap below – it is probably the most iconic shot in all of film noir, composed and executed by the greatest cinematographer to ever work in the style. Words can’t do justice to how impressive Alton’s work is in this film. He might have built his reputation on his outstanding collaborations with Anthony Mann, but he enjoyed his crowning achievement in The Big Combo. Still, I don’t want to overlook how good Lewis is throughout. The man continuously found inventive ways to stage scenes, doing ingenuous things to amp up the tension. Little touches like Mr. Brown using his partner’s hearing aid to torture the rival Diamond. Or when Brown’s same partner is set up by would-be conspirators and before the gunshots start flying, Brown removes the hearing aid. When the scene then continues, we see the muzzle flashes and the reactions from those involved, but the whole sequence is filmed in silence, mimicking what the horrified man is going through.


This is one that needs to be gone into fresh, so going into unnecessary specifics regarding the plot would be uncalled for. I'm assuming that most people reading this have already seen it, but I'm sure there are a few who have not and I want to spoil nothing. What I will say is that as I'm posting this on Sunday afternoon and reading through it, it has me questioning my own placement. #27 is an incredible compliment, but this is one that I might regret not moving it even higher. A truly great film.

#32: Kiss of Death (Henry Hathaway, 1947)

Released: August 27, 1947

Director: Henry Hathaway; Screenplay: Ben Hecht and Charles Lederer based on a story by Eleazar Lipsky; Cinematography: Norbert Brodine; Music: David Buttolph; Producer: Fred Kohlmar; Studio: 20th Century Fox

Cast: Victor Mature (Nick Bianco), Brian Donlevy (Assistant District Attorney Louis D’Angelo), Coleen Gray (Nettie), Richard Widmark (Tommy Udo), Taylor Holmes (Earl Howser), Howard Smith (Warden), Karl Malden (Sergeant William Cullen), Anthony Ross (Big Eddie Williams), Millard Mitchell (Detective Shelby), Temple Texas (Buster), Jay Jostyn (District Attorney), J. Scott Smart (Skeets)

- “You know what I do to squealers? I let 'em have it in the belly, so they can roll around for a long time thinkin' it over…”

One of the biggest myths of classic Hollywood is that Henry Hathaway’s Kiss of Death is worthwhile solely because of the over-the-top screen debut of Richard Widmark. To be certain, Widmark’s performance as bloodthirsty hoodlum Tommy Udo is incendiary, so it is understandable that it would overshadow other elements of the film. It’s unfortunate, because there is so much more to it than just Widmark. Victor Mature turns in a fine performance as Nick Bianco and the film as a whole boasts a nice mix of Hollywood veterans (Brian Donlevy) and future stars (Karl Malden). But guiding it all is the steady hand of Henry Hathaway, who flawlessly combines realistic location shooting with Norbert Brodine’s classy cinematography to craft a great movie.


Mature is Nick Bianco, a professional thief who tries to provide for his family through various heists. On Christmas Eve, when he and a group of hoodlums rob a Manhattan jewelry store, an alarm is sounded and Nick is not able to make it out of the building. Apprehended by police, Nick is grilled over who his partners were in the robbery. District Attorney Louis D’Angelo (Brian Donlevy) offers him a light sentence in return for fingering the other men, but sticking true to the code of the streets, Nick refuses. Packed off to Sing Sing with a 20-year sentence, Nick does his time as best he can, until he learns that his depressed and lonely wife has committed suicide. Learning from former babysitter Nettie (Coleen Gray) that his two children have been relocated to an orphanage, Nick realizes that he desperately needs to get out of prison and take care of his kids. Nick contacts DA D’Angelo to provide information on his compatriots, but since the case is years old, the information does no good in reducing his sentence. But D’Angelo offers him another way out – if he will give them help get close to and take down rising hoodlum Tommy Udo (Richard Widmark), he will be released from his previous conviction. Paroled for his undercover work, Nick leaves prison and begins getting close to Udo. At the same time, he develops a relationship with Coleen and does his best to create the ideal family life with his new lady and his children. Things get dicey for everyone involved when Udo begins to learn what is going on, placing everyone close to Nick at extreme peril.

As strongly as I feel about my intro to this piece, there is no argument that Widmark is a tour-de-force in every scene he appears in. But the main criticism that I have read concerning the character of Tommy Udo – and really of the movie in general – is that Udo feels underdeveloped. I think this is missing the point of the film. Although Udo may feel like the center of attention, he actually isn’t. The real focus of the story is on Nick Bianco, a man desperately trying to go straight who never really has a chance to do so. While this is an incredibly familiar storyline, what makes it unique in this case is the reason why Nick doesn’t have a chance. It isn’t just the underworld that “pulls him back in,” as Michael Corleone would say decades later. It’s also the district attorney, his own lawyer, and other supposedly respectable personalities. Nick is being bombarded from every possible angle, leaving him and his family caught in the middle of powerful forces, both legal and illegal. So with this in mind, the lack of development of Tommy Udo as a fully fleshed-out person is unimportant to me. What matters is the dynamism of Widmark portraying one of the most sadistic and evil characters in Hollywood history. Those that have seen the film will undoubtedly be able to hear the childish giggle that he unleashes after committing horrendous acts of violence. Even more so than other cinema psychopaths, such as classic characters like Cody Jarrett, Udo seems to genuinely enjoy the violence and bloodshed. It is shocking even now to watch him push a helpless wheelchair-bound woman down a flight of stars. Imagine what it must have been like to see this in 1947.


Hathaway’s work is also noteworthy, as it alternates between documentary style shooting and gritty, noirish set pieces. Scenes showing Nick confined in prison feel real because, to a certain extent, they are. Hathaway took cast and crew to the actual Sing Sing Prison to film. Popular legend holds that the actors were processed through the institution as actual prisoners would be, adding a further sense of realism to everything filmed there. Likewise, shooting on the streets of New York is also gorgeous, particularly in the filming of the tense Manhattan jewel heist that opens the film.

There are certainly some minor details that I would have preferred to change – once again, there is narration that is completely unnecessary, and I could understand someone thinking there might be a bit too much moralizing in the story. Still, taken as a whole, I still think it’s a wonderful noir. It has a solid reputation, but with the exception of Widmark’s turn as Udo, I think it is actually a bit underrated as a whole.