#13: Pitfall (André de Toth, 1948)

Released: August 24, 1948

Director: André de Toth; Screenplay: Karl Kamb, André de Toth and William Bowers based on the novel by Jay Dratler; Cinematography: Harry J. Wild; Music: Louis Forbes; Producer: Samuel Bischoff; Studio: United Artists

Cast: Dick Powell (John Forbes), Lizabeth Scott (Mona Stevens), Jane Wyatt (Sue Forbes), Raymond Burr (MacDonald), John Litel (District Attorney), Byron Barr (Bill Smiley), Jimmy Hunt (Tommy Forbes), Ann Doran (Maggie), Selmer Jackson (Ed Brawley), Margaret Wells (Terry), Dick Wessel (Desk Sergeant)

At this point in the countdown, chances are that most of you can at least guess at reasonable final baker's dozen. The ordering might be up for debate, but I would be willing to bet that if you push came to shove, that every person following this countdown would at least know nine or ten of the remaining films that will be involved. Even so, the fun still remains in trying to figure out how they are going to be ranked against other classics. But… this one might keep folks from going a perfect 13-for-13. It is not an unknown quantity, particularly among those with a serious interest in noir, but Pitfall is far from being the household name that it deserves to be. It is a unique entry in comparison to most other films noir, as it unfolds not in the sordid underbelly of a major American city, but transports this same seediness to the most terrifying of places – the suburbs.

The film opens to the domestic bliss of postwar America, where a family sits down to breakfast – a wife preparing the meal, the father reading the morning paper at the table, a young child shattering on about the day at school. This is the situation that John Forbes (Dick Powell) finds himself in, with wife Sue (Jane Wyatt) and son Tommy (Jimmy Hunt). But rather than feeling the contentment that outsiders assume he must be experiencing, John feels restless. He is bored with the daily routine – a rut so predictable that he knows the precise minute that he will step off the train and be picked up by his wife for the drive home. John laments that the big dreams that he and his high school sweetheart Sue had when they were newlyweds have slowly been compromised for suburban tranquility. So when in the course of his work as an insurance agent he meets a gorgeous, exciting woman named Mona Stevens (Lizabeth Scott), he cannot resist the temptation to add a little excitement to his life. He originally meets Mona because he is trying to recover restitution from a robbery that his company paid the insurance on. Mona’s former boyfriend Bill Smiley (Byron Barr) pulled off the heist and hid some of the money by buying things for Mona. John goes to her in hopes of recovering these goods and recouping some of his firm’s losses. When he meets Mona, he is intrigued by her and decides to take up her invitation to go to dinner. As he grows fonder of her, he decides that he will cut some slack and allow her to keep a prized speedboat that Bill bought her. Under normal circumstances, it too would be seized by the company, but he makes an exception out of fondness for Mona.

Things would have remained secretive if not for the private eye the insurance company originally hired to track Mona. “Mack” MacDonald (Raymond Burr) is also smitten by Mona and is jealous of the affair that seems to be developing between her and John. MacDonald confronts John with evidence he gathers on his own – seeing the two of them together and, more importantly, his letting her keep the boat – and threatens to blow the lid off everything. This seems to bring John to his senses, as the affair is broken off. Things do not end there, though. When Mona continues to rebuff MacDonald’s advances, he figures he will get back at the her and John by letting the soon-to-be-released Bill Smiley know about the affair.


The interesting thing is that the affair seems to develop less because of romantic attraction between Mona and John than because of deficiencies in the lives of each person – with her former fiancé in prison, Mona is scared of being on her own and latches onto the steady John; John, on the other hand, just wants something to come into his life that will shake things up. There is obviously a connection between them, and maybe it is a little romantic, but it never once comes across as the kind of passionate affair that is at the center of so many noirs. While it can be inferred, it actually is never explicitly revealed that the relationship is ever consummated. But even if it is not as physical as one would expect, both Mona and John recognize how salacious just their being together in public could be. That is why they scramble when Mack begins threatening to bring this information public. Both are able to recognize that, in typical noir fashion, the damage has already been done simply by the two engaging in things like boat rides, dinners and late-night kissing. Thus, they are able to quickly decide that it is prudent to walk away from the relationship.

This is probably the most unique aspect of the entire film. In a typical film noir, Lizabeth Scott’s Mona Stevens would function as the traditional femme fatale and continue to pursue the married Forbes until his life is ruined. She actually does the opposite. When she finally discovers that John is married, _she_ comes to him and tells him how ridiculous it would be for them to continue their affair. It appears as if things can go back to normal and both can go their separate ways. Mack, of course, ensures that will never be able to happen. Still, what is important to recognize is the role that Mona plays in it. To those looking at it from the outside, it would be easy to classify her as a homewrecker, but she cuts off the affair precisely because she does not want to live with such a label. There actually is no femme fatale in the film – she inadvertently functions as a femme fatale would, tempting the nominal hero into actions that have serious repercussions. But she does so without full knowledge of the situation. The instant that she discovers what John is risking, she backs off. A strong case can be made that Mona is actually the purest character of them all that has either horrible taste or incredibly back luck when it comes to men.

The direction from de Toth and cinematography from Harry Wilds are far from groundbreaking. But there are a few scenes that are fantastic, particularly the late night stalking by Smiley and the subsequent shootout in the dark. On the whole, though, de Toth’s direction has a very detached feel to it. He puts the camera in the best place to take in the action and then just lets things unfold. It works though, because the three lead performances come close to being career bests. Dick Powell works as the cynical workingman. Lizabeth Scott was never better as the unlucky dame. Raymond Burr is at his menacing best. This is storytelling so strong and so well-acted that any possibility of a dated feel is irrelevant. Even if it is dated, it’s an interesting document of the infamous “postwar malaise” that runs as an undercurrent throughout so much work of the late 1940s and 1950s.

For those that have seen it, I’d be interested to hear thoughts on this question: is it the best films that André de Toth ever made? I think it is and I don’t hesitate to proclaim it so. For those that have not had the opportunity, seek this one out however possible. It is another unfortunate film that has no DVD release, but hopefully that will someday be remedied.

#39: Raw Deal (Anthony Mann, 1948)

Released: May 26, 1948

Director: Anthony Mann; Screenplay: Leopold Atlas and John C. Higgins based on a story by Arnold B. Armstrong and Audrey Ashley; Cinematography: John Alton; Music: Paul Sawtell; Producer: Edward Small; Studio: Eagle-Lion Films

Cast: Dennis O’Keefe (Joe Sullivan), Claire Trevor (Pat Cameron), Marsha Hunt (Ann Martin), John Ireland (Fantail), Raymond Burr (Rick Coyle), Curt Conway (Spider), Chili Williams (Marcy), Regis Toomey (Police Capt. Fields), Whit Bissell (Murderer), Cliff Clark (Gates)

Raw Deal has to be the archetype for how a truly great low-budget film noir should look. I hesitate to say the prototype for how _any_ film noir looks, because there is definitely a different feel to the John Alton cinematography here as compared to something like equally remarkable work from Nicholas Musuraca or John Seitz in larger scale productions. That gritty, shoestring budget look is part of the appeal, though. Realizing how Alton and director Anthony Mann manage to get such striking results in creating a world where everything is at least partially shrouded might actually be more impressive. Everything feels covered by a shadow, creating an almost insufferably claustrophobic atmosphere. Put simply, in all of its low budget glory, it looks spectacular. It’s the kind of film that should be put on late at night, without a single light on, so as to savor the deep darks and slivers of light that Alton judiciously allows to creep onto the screen.


Fortunately, the visuals are not the only reason to appreciate Raw Deal. There are also some very good performances. Dennis O’Keefe – who a year earlier was cast as an undercover hero in Mann’s T-Men – shows his versatility here in playing a manipulative antihero. He is Joe Sullivan, a prisoner who took the fall for gang higher-ups, who badly wants out of prison. Unable to wait for lawyer's assistant Ann Martin (Marsha Hunt) to legally press his appeal, Joe uses girlfriend Pat Cameron (Claire Trevor) to bust him out of jail. Now understanding that he was framed to take the fall by crime boss Rick Coyle (Raymond Burr), he vows revenge. Stopping at the unsuspecting Ann’s home after his escape, and feeling heat from police in the process, Joe decides that he can’t leave Ann behind to alert the authorities. So he brings her along for the ride, creating instant tension between longtime girlfriend Pat and his new love interest. Ann wants no part of Joe’s plotting and continually urges him to turn himself in, but gradually even she is won completely by Joe. As the struggle between Joe and Rick intensifies, she is eventually driven to perform acts she never thought possible.

The role reversal is interesting, as there is no femme fatale to spur the action. The closest approximation to such a character is actually O’Keefe’s Joe, who is proves to be irresistible to Ann, eventually leading her to murder. Joe maintains at least some redeeming qualities, though, as he eventually realizes that Ann deserves much better than a life on the run with him. I’ll make another bold statement now, too, in declaring that this is the finest work I’ve ever seen from Claire Trevor. I know that she won an Academy Award this same year for Key Largo, but here she is perfect as the worn out gun moll. She recognizes that she has just one last shot at happiness with Joe and feels it slipping away as Joe and Ann grow increasingly closer. She is too loyal, too attached to Joe, to simply walk away.


This was only the second film that Mann and Alton worked together and this is arguably their greatest effort. There are some individual scenes that are so memorable that I can replay them over and over in my mind. The prison break, with Joe sticking close to the perimeter wall as guards fire down from a nearby tower. Or Joe’s surreptitious entry into Ann’s apartment, startling her as she slowly peers through the darkness to realize that the man she visited in prison just the day before is staring down at her. Or maybe the best is the concluding showdown between Rick and Joe, with the two duking it out as fire rages all around them.

It pains me to see such an outstanding film at #39, but I can’t find any way to move it up considering what sits ahead of it. This is no slight. It is one of Mann’s best and a superb example of doing more with less.

#97: The Blue Gardenia (Fritz Lang, 1953)

Released: March 23, 1953

Director: Fritz Lang; Screenplay: Charles Hoffman based on a story by Vera Caspary; Cinematography: Nicholas Musuraca; Music: Raoul Kraushaar; Producer: Alex Gottlieb; Studio: Warner Brothers

Cast: Anne Baxter (Norah Larkin), Richard Conte (Casey Mayo), Ann Sothern (Crystal Carpenter), Raymond Burr (Harry Prebble), George Reeves (Capt. Sam Haynes), Jeff Donnell (Sally Ellis), Richard Erdman (Al), Ruth Storey (Rose Miller), Ray Walker (Homer), Nat “King” Cole (Himself)

-“If you want your picture in the paper, you’ll have to go out and kill somebody first.”

Released the same year as the legendary The Big Heat, it is not surprising that The Blue Gardenia remains an afterthought in the filmography of Fritz Lang. And deservedly so, as it is overshadowed by other noir gems like the aforementioned The Big Heat, Clash By Night and more (but we’ll get to those in due time…). To most people, this may indeed be the most minor of Fritz Lang films, and they may be shocked to see it ranked above more-acclaimed efforts like The Woman in the Window. I’ve always felt it to be underrated, although far from being a flawless noir.

Knowing the principals involved, the thing that has always struck me about The Blue Gardenia is that everyone had previously done better work, or would do so shortly thereafter. As discussed in the opening paragraph, Lang had already made masterpieces on two continents and by this point was approaching the twilight of his career. Anne Baxter's career-defining performance in All About Eve was behind her and she would never approach those heights. Richard Conte was a noir veteran and while his career was not declining, his banner performances would come elsewhere. If Raymond Burr is not immediately recognized as Perry Mason, then it is likely that he is remembered as Thorwald the murderer in Hitchcock’s Rear Window. Nicholas Musuraca previously served as director of photography on legendary noirs like Out of the Past, The Spiral Staircase and others. Even Vera Caspary, author of the source story, achieved greater heights with Laura. With this outlook, then The Blue Gardenia could justifiably be relegated to second-tier status. But I think such a designation speaks more to the level of accomplishments of everyone involved than to the inferiority of the film.


The familiar theme of one misguided decision snowballing into ever-expanding problems is the key to this story. After receiving a letter from her fiancé in Korea that ends their relationship, Norah Larkin (Anne Baxter) feels depressed. When someone calls for a blind date with her roommate, the lonely Norah instead accepts the invitation and meets the dominant Harry Prebble (Raymond Burr) at The Blue Gardenia nightclub. Drinking her sorrows away, Norah gets completely hammered and is easily lured back to Prebble’s apartment. When Harry begins making unwelcome advances, Norah strikes him over the head and then blacks out. The next morning, out of the apartment, she shockingly learns that Harry has been found dead. When energetic reporter Casey Mayo (Richard Conte) takes up the case, publishing a letter calling for the murderers to come forward, Norah makes contact with him. Offering to use the newspaper to protect her, Casey gets Norah to open up to him. Eventually, she is arrested anyway and Casey then begins to fight to prove her innocence.


Fritz Lang would later dismiss the film as his simply fulfilling a contract, which may be how he approached it. The results are a bit more impressive than that, although the limitations of the screenplay and story mean that no matter how much effort Lang put forth, the movie would only have gone so far. Things are not as suspenseful as the characters seem to believe and the conclusion could have been improved by not being so abrupt. This seems to be a common complaint among reviews that I have read of the film – that for whatever reason, be it money, time or Lang’s effort, the movie is wrapped far too quickly. It’s a criticism I agree with, but not to the point that it invalidates the entire effort. I like the overall atmosphere created in the film, which is different from typical noirs. In fact, an argument can be made that this only marginally qualifies as a film noir. It is a nice snapshot of a time and era, utilizing simple things like the interplay between roommates who live together and long for the return of boyfriends from Korea. We get to see the nightclub environment and hear the melodies of songsters like Nat King Cole. It might not be the dark atmosphere most are accustomed to in film noir, but it is interesting nonetheless. Plus, any excuse to watch Richard Conte in the 40s or 50s should always be taken advantage of!

Conventional wisdom says it's a bit of a stretch to slot The Blue Gardenia higher than such classics as The Woman in the Window or Act of Violence. But that's the beauty of being the one making all the picks - I can go with pure personal preference!