#16: The Postman Always Rings Twice (Tay Garnett, 1946)

Released: May 2, 1946

Director: Tay Garnett; Screenplay: Harry Ruskin and Niven Busch based on the novel by James M. Cain; Cinematography: Sidney Wagner; Music: George Bassman and Erich Zeisl; Producer: Carey Wilson; Studio: MGM

Cast: Lana Turner (Cora Smith), John Garfield (Frank Chambers), Cecil Kellaway (Nick Smith), Hume Cronyn (Arthur Keats), Leon Ames (District Attorney Sackett), Cameron Grant (Willie), Alan Reed (Ezra Liam Kennedy), Audrey Totter (Madge Gorland)

- “With my brains and your looks, we could go places…”

It’s the entrance that will grab you every time. Even if you’re not drawn in immediately on reputation, I defy you to watch the introduction of Cora Smith in The Postman Always Rings Twice and not at least find it alluring. Frank Chambers (John Garfield), a drifter who has just inquired about a job at the diner owned by Cora’s husband Nick (Cecil Kellaway), is sitting at the counter waiting on him to return. A tube of lipstick hits the floor and begins rolling toward his feet. The camera then switches to the point of view of Frank, as his gaze follows the path that the lipstick just traveled. He scans the small stretch of floor that the tube just rolled before being stopped dead in his tracks when he reaches the point of origin. The camera likewise stops, fixated on the well-formed legs of Cora Smith (Lana Turner). The shot stays there for a few moments, from high heels to calves, giving the shapely fixtures their due, before pulling back to reveal Cora standing in the doorway, the rest of her as gorgeous as the legs that just captivated the restless drifter. Without a single word, without anything resembling nudity or lewdness, the stage is set for a movie that is as erotic as was permissible at this time in Hollywood.


The story is toned down from the original novel by pulp master James M. Cain, a necessary decision in order for the project to get the green light and be in compliance with the Hays Code. But to strip this story entirely of its sexuality would be to completely gut the nucleus of it all, so what toning it down implied was taking any and all overt sexuality and finding more subtle ways to put it across. Rather than try anything drastic, director Tay Garnett and others in charge decided on the simplest road to success – find two leads that can sell it purely on the strength of their performances. Put together a couple whose sexual attraction and energy just oozes off the screen. With Lana Turner and John Garfield, they found a couple that fit this model perfectly.

It is now a familiar storyline, but when Cain first published his novel, the idea of a bored housewife conspiring with a boyfriend to murder her husband was downright salacious. The movie, although cleaned up from its source material, maintains the same filthy feeling. John Garfield is Frank, the drifter who can never stay settled in one place for any period of time. When he stops at Nick Smith’s diner he sees “man wanted” sign and inquires. Frank accepts the job, working at the lunch counter and gas station, but quickly finds that he has walked into a situation that he might not be able to handle. After his startling introduction to Cora, he soon realizes that he is unable to avoid an attraction toward her. At first, she completely dismisses him, but she too soon begins to fall for him. The closer they get, the more that they wish that Nick would simply disappear. Once they realize that won’t just happen by itself, they then begin to move – sheepishly at first, then much more aggressively – toward getting Nick out of the picture by any means necessary.


Deeper plot summary seems unnecessary here, as I’m guessing most have seen this one, or for those that haven’t that the plot will at least be familiar. There is no doubt that everything revolves around the murder plot and its aftermath, but there are so many other interesting subtexts throughout. The idea of postwar malaise is everywhere. Frank is the drifter whose feet “keep itchin’ for me to go places,” as he cannot find contentment in any one place. Likewise, Cora is constantly trying to move up and get away. She marries Nick because she sees it as a first step toward wealth and a better lifestyle. When these dreams aren’t quick to materialize, she begins scrambling for another way to get it – even if that means the dreadful plotting that she and Frank engage in. I have read complaints about Cora not being believable as the housewife of a diner owner, about how she is too glamorous for the role. I think that is the entire point - Cora _is_ out of place as a housewife and waitress. She didn't expect to still be in this position after years of marriage, which is why she is so anxious to concoct any scheme to get out.


The most interesting aspect of how the story is told is the ability of Garnett to make the audience almost root for the murderous couple. The connection between Frank and Cora is established very early in the film, before any of the nefarious plotting takes place. They are painted as a couple who might actually deserve to be together. Once this is established, it’s hard not to then begin hoping that things work out for them. At the same time, you don’t want to root for them because you know what they will eventually try and do. Cinematographer Sidney Wagner is not a name that gets mentioned very often, but he and Garnett photograph the film perfectly. Everything takes place at night, whether it is at the diner or on the beach, with the muted glow of the moon hanging above. They film the diner and house of the Smiths like a dungeon, serving both as a reminder of the entrapment felt by both Frank and Cora, and also foreshadowing what will eventually become of them. The constraining nature of the interiors are emphasized by Garnett’s use of close-ups and very little camera movement. This drives home the confined space which Frank and Cora have to try and carry on their secret romance.

There are supporting performances that shine as well – the squaring off of Hume Cronyn’s unscrupulous defense attorney Keats against District Attorney Sackett (Leon Ames) is interesting by itself. The two attorneys are determined to win the case, but do so with little regard to the actual victim and defendants. But make no mistake, the focus is never taken off the two central characters. Turner and Garfield shine in what should be one of the first noirs that any newcomer seeks out.

#34: Body and Soul (Robert Rossen, 1947)

Released: August 22, 1947

Director: Robert Rossen; Screenplay: Abraham Polonsky; Cinematography: James Wong Howe; Music: Hugo Friedhofer; Producer: Bob Roberts; Studio: United Artists

Cast: John Garfield (Charley Davis), Lilli Palmer (Peg Born), Hazel Brooks (Alice), Anne Revere (Anna Davis), William Conrad (Quinn), Joseph Pevney (Shorty Polaski), Lloyd Gough (Roberts), Canada Lee (Ben Chaplin), Art Smith (David Davis)

Anyone who follows the blog knows of my passion for boxing. It’s my favorite sport. Oftentimes, my weekend schedule centers around making sure that I am able to see any boxing available. I have DVDs and old VHS tapes of fights. I’ve been ringside for a heavyweight title fight, welterweight title fight, seen in person some of the best fighters of the generation. In the context of movies and this blog, what intrigues me is how the sport offers such a great opportunity for character study – when done well. There is something incredibly interesting to try and understand what makes someone tick when they give and receive punches for a living. But I can be very sensitive when judging a boxing film and those that I judge subpar I can barely stomach. Even some that have been critically lauded (such as Clint Eastwood’s Million Dollar Baby, which does have some marvelous performances), I have serious problems with. I tend to be overly critical when it comes to movies dealing with a topic that I feel so passionately about.

And so, with that in mind, this will be a somewhat bold declaration: Robert Rossen’s Body and Soul is among the best two or three best boxing films ever made. The only two that I’m aware of that even challenge it are Robert Wise’s The Set-Up and Martin Scorsese’s Raging Bull. It’s that good.

For the most part, it is a well-worn story that will be familiar to anyone who has seen a boxing film. It follows the rise and fall of Charley Davis (John Garfield), a Jewish kid from the slums who rises all the way to world champion. Growing up, Charley is discouraged from boxing by his mother, but when he sees her struggling to make ends meet after the death of his father, Charley realizes that he can provide for everyone if he continues fighting. Forming a partnership with longtime pal and trainer Shorty (Joseph Pevney) and boxing manager Quinn (William Conrad), he begins advancing through the professional ranks. But the higher Charley climbs, the more that he loses perspective. Acquiring incredible wealth and fame, Charley begins to grow distant from Shorty, longtime girlfriend Peg (Lilli Palmer) and even his dear mother Anna (Anne Revere). When racketeer and fight fixer Roberts (Lloyd Gough) begins to get continually closer to Charley, offering him even more wealth and titles, Charley’s past relationships begin to be cast aside for material gains.


As is the case for most great sports films, the sport is less important than the characters and life issues explored. The fact that Body and Soul is a boxing movie is almost secondary. The real point of the terrific script for Abraham Polonsky is to explore the corrupting nature of money and how constant material temptation can (or maybe always will?) eventually wear a man down. As I discussed in my entry for Polonsky’s Force of Evil, at times I have trouble with some of the writer's “pound it into your head” approach to social critique, but it never feels that abrasive in Body and Soul. No doubt, there are some clichéd touches, such as the moralizing mother, but I understand how they are eventually necessary to the overall product. What works for me with this script is that perhaps he is criticizing capitalist society just as aggressively as he would later do in Force of Evil, but the story being told is so classic in nature that it need not be viewed only at that level. It’s the timeless rags to riches story of a man starting from nothing, rising to previously unimaginable wealth and success, and then struggling to maintain his identity in the face of all the new temptations and luxuries. Stories like this go back to ancient mythology. Does it apply to the capitalist society that Polonsky intended to condemn? Sure, but it applies to lot of other situations too.

John Garfield is spectacular as Charley Davis, but that shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone reading this, especially considering that I’m the judging the performance – Garfield might be my favorite actor of the era. Davis is probably even more blatantly likable than other Garfield characters, which makes it so maddening to see him fall victim to the vices presented to him by shady characters like Roberts. Each supporting role is very good as well, but I always look toward Joseph Pevney’s Shorty as one that I enjoy most. The on-screen connection established between Garfield and Peveny is palpable, which makes it all the more affecting when things fall apart. And what more can be said about the direction of Robert Rossen than has not already been acknowledged by those in the industry? The fight scenes here were quite clearly an influence on Scorsese’s work in Raging Bull. The final fight, in which Charley is ordered to take a dive, is far ahead of its time. Cinematographer James Wong Howe doesn’t get overly expressionistic with his lighting and camera work but he shines nonetheless, and not just in the fight scenes. The opening overhead shot that scans the darkened environs of Charley’s training camp is a beautiful thing.

It is certainly far from a flattering portrait of the fight game, but there’s no denying the authenticity of such events. The 40s and 50s were a time when things didn’t happen in boxing unless men like Frankie Carbo and Blinky Palermo – the basis for a character like Roberts – said so. Polonsky captures this dirty little secret with incredible results.

#46: Nobody Lives Forever (Jean Negulesco, 1946)

Released: November 1, 1946

Director: Jean Negulesco; Screenplay: W.R. Burnett based on his novel “I Wasn’t Born Yesterday”; Cinematography: Arthur Edeson; Music: Adolph Deutsch; Producer: Robert Buckner; Studio: Warner Brothers

Cast: John Garfield (Nick Blake), Geraldine Fitzgerald (Gladys Halvorsen), Walter Brennan (Pop Gruber), Faye Emerson (Toni Blackburn), George Coulouris (Doc Ganson), George Tobias (Al Doyle), Robert Shayne (Chet King), Richard Gaines (Charles Manning), Richard Erdman (Bellboy), James Flavin (Shake Thomas), Ralph Peters (Windy Mather)

Here is a personal favorite and yet another film that I consider to be incredibly under-viewed and underappreciated. Since it has no official DVD release, this is one of the first noirs that I ever actively sought a burnt copy of. I became a huge fan of John Garfield after seeing him in The Postman Always Rings Twice and Body and Soul, and then I read about this 1946 release and became very fascinated. Being a complete novice in terms of going about acquiring unreleased movies, it took a little research, but I eventually tracked down a copy and felt vindicated after thoroughly loving it. It is another virtuoso performance from Garfield, who stands out from what could otherwise be viewed as textbook characters. On the strength of his performance alone, Nobody Lives Forever deserves a spot in this countdown. It just so happens that I love a few other elements as well, which accounts for such a high placement.

Nick Blake (John Garfield) is injured in World War II and is discharged after being wounded. Returning to New York City, Nick begins to survey his hometown. Before leaving for the war, Nick had become a major player in the city’s underworld, running various scams and rackets and amassing a small fortune that he left in the care of his girlfriend Toni (Faye Emerson). When he and longtime pal Al Doyle (George Tobias) check up on Toni, they learn that she used that money to set up herself up in a club with a new partner. Extorting a payoff from this new club, Nick and Al decide to take their profits and leave for Los Angeles and live a peaceful life of luxury. But simply stepping away from their old lives is not easy, as even in L.A. they run into old grifter acquaintances like Pop Gruber (Walter Brennan) and Doc Ganson (George Coulouris). Ganson entices Nick to come in on a scam to fleece a widow out of her inherited fortune. Nick agrees, but only if he can run it. He thus begins wooing Gladys Halvorsen (Geraldine Fitzgerald), but inexplicably begins to genuinely fall for her. When he tries to pull out of the scheme rather than hurt Gladys, things begin to spiral out of control – Toni suddenly shows up from New York and Ganson decides to finish the scam on his own terms.


Released the same year as The Best Years of Our Lives and earlier countdown selection Somewhere in the Night, this film covers similar territory. The uncertainty of where one fits in a postwar society is addressed at every turn. Nick feels it doubly, as not only is he a returning veteran, but also a career criminal that suddenly no longer has a solidified position in the underworld. This insecurity is only reinforced when Nick decides to leave New York and seek a fresh start in Los Angeles. Even in L.A. he is reminded of how unsettled things are – former friend and mentor Pop Gruber, a onetime high roller, is reduced to petty scams and work as a pickpocket, and former rackets heavy Doc Ganson sits around a local bar dreaming up schemes that he never seems able to pull off. It is as if Nick wants desperately to move on to new things in his life, but he can’t ever quite completely break away from his sordid New York City roots.

This is not a particularly dark film, especially in comparison to other noirs of the era. Although there is plotting done in traditional smoke-filled backrooms, the majority of the story takes place outdoors on beaches or in a posh resort. The focus on the developing relationship between Nick and Gladys, along with lighthearted moments peppered throughout the story (particularly coming from George Tobias’ good-natured Al Doyle), has the movie at times leaning toward straight drama. But the existential journey of Nick Blake, along with the darkened conclusion on a foggy dock, is enough to qualify with my malleable definition.


The legend is that Humphrey Bogart was originally offered the lead and turned it down, which then allowed it to pass to Garfield. It’s another of those fortuitous breaks that I enjoy pointing out in Hollywood history. I love Bogey, but I don’t know that he could have bettered Garfield’s performance here, as the character seems perfectly written for him.

#60: Force of Evil (Abraham Polonsky, 1948)

Released: December 25, 1948

Director: Abraham Polonsky; Screenplay: Abraham Polonsky and Ira Wolfert based on the novel “Tucker’s People” by Ira Wolfert; Cinematography: George Barnes; Music: David Raskin; Producer: Bob Roberts; Studio: MGM

Cast: John Garfield (Joe Morse), Beatrice Pearson (Doris Lowry), Thomas Gomez (Leo Morse), Marie Windsor (Edna Tucker), Howland Chamberlain (Freddie Bauer), Roy Roberts (Ben Tucker), Paul Fix (Bill Ficco), Stanley Prager (Wally), Barry Kelley (Detective Egan)

- "What do you mean 'gangsters?' It's business..."

Here we have the first to fall of the films being predicted as legitimate Top 10 contenders. I’m fully aware of the fact that this directorial debut from Abraham Polonsky has a very passionate following and is considered by many to be among the finest noirs ever made. Truthfully, I have only recently warmed to the film, which I came away from somewhat disappointed when I saw it for the first time. If I had judged it solely on that single viewing experience, this would have placed much lower in the countdown, if it was included at all. I’ve now reached the point where I understand that the strengths of the film far outweigh the key weakness that continues to reveal itself each time I watch.

It is an intriguing plot, concerning a numbers syndicate that is striving to convert their interest in the policy racket into a legitimate business. The idea, as conceived by policy boss Ben Tucker (Roy Roberts) is to bankrupt the smaller numbers banks through a fixed drawing. The idea is that the only banks left standing are those in the syndicate that will move in to set up the legal lottery. Leading this push into the respectable business world is lawyer Joe Morse (John Garfield), whose perspective becomes increasingly muddled as he is pulled deeper into the underworld. While wanting to help his client Tucker, Joe also feels a small sense of loyalty toward his brother Leo (Thomas Gomez), an independent numbers man who refuses to join Tucker’s ruthless combination. Not wanting to see his brother left penniless, Joe first offers him a position in the Tucker group, which Leo sternly refuses. Joe then begins working to try and keep Leo from losing his life savings, while at the same time not ruining the carefully laid plans for the big fix. The deeper Joe gets, the more he realizes that he is going to be forced to make a final decision at some point – either his loyalties are completely with his brother or are completely owned by Tucker.

The general storyline is fantastic, which I assume means that kudos should go to the original source material from Ira Wolfert. The script, on the other hand, is where I find the only glaring flaw in the film. Which is surprising to me, because Polonsky had already proven himself to be an outstanding screenwriter – his script for the previous year’s Body and Soul was wonderful. The issue here is that things are just too damn talky. Characters talk and talk and talk, speaking on topics and things that feel far too unnatural. For instance, when Joe visits Leo to try and bring him into the syndicate, the conversation between the two brothers – both of whom have intimate knowledge of numbers – is like listening to two men recite textbook outlines and definitions of how the policy racket works. Perhaps this is just an artifact of the times and such dialog was necessary to spell out to naïve contemporary audiences precisely how the business works. Still, it doesn’t help the aging of the film. I realize that this might seem like the most minor of complaints, but at this stage such minor issues are what make separating quality films possible.


But the positives far outweigh any negatives, the aforementioned speech included. Even with the awkward monologues outlining underworld schemes, John Garfield turns in his usual sensational performance. There are certainly strong supporting performances from Thomas Gomez and Marie Windsor, but Garfield is the center of everything – his Joe Morse narrates, is the focus of the story, and is the character that the audience becomes emotionally tied to. Few could play the smooth talking tough guy like Garfield. Here he also gives a fully developed performance, showing Joe to be at times sentimental and at times downright ruthless. What becomes compelling is his inability to comprehend the fact that the more he succeeds at his job, the more he hurts people close to him. By the time he comes to this realization, he has lost things that cannot be restored. I don’t think it’s the best performance of Garfield’s career, but that’s only because he has so many impressive achievements on his resume. For almost any other actor, this would likely top a best-of list.

Polonsky shows himself to be very much in control in his debut film. Working with cinematographer George Barnes, the photography is at times beautiful. They also make great use of shadows, although the light-dark contrasts are generally not as stark as other noirs. The location shooting in New York, displaying Wall Street, the Washington Bridge and other locales is very impressive. Some of the sequences truly are remarkable – the ones that instantly come to mind are Joe's stealthy visits to his law office and the final discovery of the body among the rocks under the bridge.


Much has been written about the implications of this film on the lives and careers of director and star. Both Polonsky and Garfield would be blacklisted shortly afterward on the basis of the perception that Force of Evil was an indictment of the capitalist system by the two left-leaning personalities. There is no question of the consequences that resulted from this belief, but I’ve never really examined the movie at this level. I never feel sympathy for anyone in the movie, Leo included, so have trouble distinguishing who is being exploited by the system. I just take it at face value, which means enjoying a damn fine film.

#75: Out of the Fog (Anatole Litvak, 1941)

Released: June 14, 1941

Director: Anatole Litvak; Screenplay: Robert Macauley, Robert Rossen and Jerry Wald based on the play “The Gentle People” by Irwin Shaw; Cinematography: James Wong Howe; Music: Heinz Roemheld; Producers: Hal B. Wallis and Henry Blanke; Studio: Warner Brothers

Cast: John Garfield (Harold Goff), Ida Lupino (Stella Goodwin), Thomas Mitchell (Jonah Goodwin), Eddie Albert (George Watkins), George Tobias (Igor Propotkin), John Qualen (Olaf Johnson), Aline MacMahon (Florence Goodwin), Jerome Cowan (Assistant District Attorney), Odette Myrtil (Caroline Pomponette), Leo Gorcey (Eddie), Robert Homans (Officer Magruder), Bernard Gorcey (Sam Pepper), Paul Harvey (Judge Moriarty)

Yes, more Ida Lupino. Even more importantly for the countdown is the debut appearance of one of the few men who I think can justifiably lay claim to being _the_ leading man of film noir. I know, I know, that’s a bold claim, and I’m not sure that I necessarily would place him above the likes of Mitchum, Bogart, Lancaster and others. But the more films that I have watched for this series, the deeper my appreciation of the work of John Garfield continues to grow. He’s one of my favorite actors of all-time, regardless of genre or era. And in Out of the Fog, he delivers a wonderfully smug performance as waterfront racketeer Harold Goff. Goff is a swaggering, ruthless gangster, and what makes him all the more awful is that he knows it. He just doesn’t care. Garfield makes that conceit and arrogance shoot off the screen.


The script from writing team Robert Rossen, Robert Macauley and Jerry Wald does an outstanding job of adapting a stage play from Irwin Shaw to the big screen. In retrospect, knowing that it was based on a play makes sense, as scenes are set up in rooms or on the same dock and are usually left to play out within that confined area. But what the screenplay manages to do is to take something that had previously been performed on stage and inject a wonderful sense of nighttime on the docks of Sheepshead Bay. Nearly every scene is set in the darkened night, with fog always looming, and almost everything takes place on or around the docks. The cause of the fear that grips everyone on the docks is Goff, a tough guy who makes his living by extorting protection money from all the fisherman and boat owners in the area. When locals Jonah Goodwin (Thomas Mitchell) and Olaf Johnson (John Qualen) acquire a small boat for their personal fishing adventures, Goff even moves in for kickbacks from them. As the pair haggles, but ultimately gives into the demands, the situation is complicated when Jonah’s daughter Stella (Ida Lupino) meets and falls for rising racketeer Goff. Stella longs for a way out from the struggling existence of Sheepshead Bay and sees the flashy Goff as the perfect opportunity.


On one level, the romance between Stella and Goff makes sense, as Goff is able to flash money and presents on the young girl to win her over. Things like promising steamship trips around the world would certainly do the tick. On the other hand, the one sticking point to the story for me was why Jonah never simply made Stella well aware of the fact that her newfound boyfriend was bleeding her own parents dry? It then seems like the breaks would at least temporarily be put on the affair. This is more of a commentary on Shaw’s original play, I would guess, rather than the actual screenwriters and filmmaker. Chalk it up to one of those minor plot details that you either go with or you don’t. I went with it, because at times it seems like Garfield as Goff truly is conniving and charismatic enough to pull off the deception. I already mentioned the darkness and shadows overtaking everything in the film, which is an acknowledgment of the work of James Wong Howe. Wong Howe is a fascinating individual and one of the finest cinematographers of the era. His work is the key contribution that makes Out of the Fog feel like a genuine movie, rather than a play on film.

My guess is that this one is not well known, which is a shame. Then again, this could certainly be one that I rank this high because of the memories it arouses in me due to the particular circumstances and timing of the first time that I watched it. I won't bore everyone with more "cancer stories" but will say that it was a movie that I watched at a pivotal moment in my own life, so it will always maintain a special status for me. For everyone else, though, John Garfield’s performance is too good not to be seen and appreciated.