Showing posts with label Walsh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walsh. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

#36: White Heat (Raoul Walsh, 1949)

Released: September 2, 1949 (U.S.)

Director: Raoul Walsh; Screenplay: Ivan Goff, Ben Roberts, based on story by Virginia Kellogg; Cinematography: Sidney Hickox; Studio: Warner Bros.; Producer: Louis F. Edelman; Music: Max Steiner

Cast: James Cagney (Cody Jarrett), Virginia Mayo (Verna Jarrett), Margaret Wycherly (Ma Jarrett), Edmond O’Brien (Vic Pardo/Hank Fallon), Steve Cochran (Big Ed Somers), John Archer (Philip Evans)

- "Made it, Ma! Top of the world!"


If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it… and I stand by what I wrote about White Heat nearly 10 months ago (has it been that long?). In these early days of Goodfella’s, one of the first projects that I did was a series of posts on four of James Cagney’s most famous gangster films – The Public Enemy, Angels With Dirty Faces and White Heat. Even after the completion of the Year’s Best Countdown, I still look back fondly on this Cagney series and think some of the best stuff that I’ve done on the blog happened there. So, instead of just posting a condensed version of a review I’ve already written, I think it’s worth posting it again, edited only to keep out things that are unnecessary in terms of the countdown. In this section, I’ll just add some general thoughts that tie White Heat into the noir countdown.

And I will also acknowledge at least one change of opinion from that original review. For whatever reason – possibly from trying not to fawn over every film yet reviewed on my still young blog – I rated White Heat at only 8/10 at that time. That was just too low. I’ve watched it since then, and while I still have a few Cagney films I prefer, if I were to put some sort of rating on it, it would have to be at least 9/10. It’s as good as any thriller or action film of the era and the bravura performance of Cagney as the infamous Cody Jarrett needs no introduction to any movie fan. It’s a minor issue I know, as ratings ultimately mean nothing, but I thought I should at least point it out.

This is another example that highlights the overlap between noir and gangster films. White Heat falls into either category – and ranks highly regardless of designation. The more Raoul Walsh that I watch, the more that I appreciate his genius. White Heat does not boast the usual amount of expressionistic light and interesting camera angles that are sprinkled throughout most noirs, but it still highlights the creativity of a great director. Watch the way that he films the opening train robbery. Or, most impressive, the high shots he uses in the prison dining hall to film Cody’s reaction to learning of his mother’s death. These are magnificent.

But, as I said, I don’t want to just repeat everything that I said earlier. This isn’t meant as a copout, but I think it works to simply re-post the review. It still applies for this countdown, even if it is much longer than the other entries.

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In White Heat, James Cagney is reunited with director Raoul Walsh, a duo with a proven track record. But this is a different film from their previous effort, The Roaring Twenties, and not just because of the sadistic character played by Cagney. Most critics and observers refer to White Heat as the final chapter of the classic Warner Brothers gangster films. I contend (as I did in my earlier review of The Roaring Twenties), that this is not entirely accurate and that White Heat has actually moved into a different area of the crime drama. The Roaring Twenties contains all of the archetypal elements of the “classic” gangster film – big-city racketeers, syndicates, gang wars. White Heat, in contrast, has none of these. Cody Jarrett and his partners operate as a band of outlaws, actually more similar to the gangs of Jesse James and other western renegades than to Al Capone and Lucky Luciano.

This is not at all a criticism. I just think it’s necessary to recognize that this film, released in 1949, bears a closer resemblance to film noir than to previous gangster efforts. Obviously, these two genres are not mutually exclusive, and ultimately it’s an argument of semantics. But it's an interesting issue to ponder, especially because White Heat’s place in the gangster cycle is unquestioned and oftentimes overshadows the great effort that was The Roaring Twenties. Looking at White Heat from a slightly different vantage point allows both films to shine for their own unique reasons.


The fact that Raoul Walsh is directing means that the action sequences of the film are top quality. The first scenes of the film are spectacular. It opens with sweeping shots of rural California, with plumes of smoke shooting into the air from a locomotive as it weaves its way through the mountains. Simultaneously, Cody and his men are moving into position to hijack the train. As the inside men on board overtake workers, Cody and henchman position themselves on the tracks. Once the engineer unwittingly begins to bring the train to a stop precisely where the gang wants them, the stunning scene of Cody Jarrett leaping from an overpass onto the moving train commences the robbery. This is not the most celebrated scene in the film (I’ll let you guess which one that would be), but it is arguably the most visually appealing. The team makes off with $300,000 of federal money, but it is not a perfect job. Gang member Zuckie (Ford Rainey) is severely burned by steam from the engine, and his health steadily declines as the gang holes up in the California mountains to avoid law enforcement.


While hiding in the mountains, the principal characters are introduced and the personalities that will contribute to the conflict throughout the film are on full display. We meet Cody’s wife Verna (Virginia Mayo), a beautiful woman who loathes the lack of luxuries involved with life on the run. The various gang members are introduced, most notably Big Ed (Steve Cochran), a powerfully built underling who seems to have aspirations for control of the gang. Cody clearly has suspicions of this ambition, as well as the notion that Big Ed is trying to cozy up to Verna. Whenever the two come into close contact with each other – even for something innocuous as Verna pouring Big Ed a cup of coffee – Cody erupts in anger. Finally, and most importantly, is Ma Jarrett (Margaret Wycherly), the singular influence on the attitudes and actions of Cody. The elderly Ma distrusts everyone in the cabin other than her son, Verna included, and never hesitates to counsel caution and violence to keep Cody safe. Just witness her recommendation to Cody that they should not leave the injured Zuckie in the cabin to be found by police after the rest of the gang moves on. Her solution? Get rid of him. After all, he might talk.

It is in the cabin that another layer is added to the Cody Jarrett character, as he experiences a crippling headache that has him falling to the floor and grimacing in pain. Ma ushers him into a side bedroom so that the rest of the gang does not see him in such a helpless state. Cody is calmed by his mother and collects himself by sitting on his mother’s lap. This scene highlights the intriguing bond between mother and son, introducing something of an Oedipus dynamic to the relationship. Later in the film, when federal agents are discussing Cody, one remarks that as a child Cody would fake headaches in order to get his mother’s attention away from the rest of the family. But as he grew older, the imagined headaches became very real and reached the debilitating level that is witnessed in the cabin. Treasury Agent Philip Evans (John Archer) declares that “Any minute he’s apt to crack open at the seams.”

The opening train robbery essentially sets the stage for everything else that happens. After the gang leaves the mountains, they split up and continue to evade law enforcement. When the authorities finally catch up to Cody, he admits to pulling off a payroll robbery in a completely different state. By doing this, he hopes to receive less prison time than he would for the train robbery and the murder of one of the railroad men in the process. The Treasury agents on the train robbery case see through the ruse, but allow Cody to believe that he has outwitted them. Instead, the federal agents ensure that Cody’s story is accepted and that he is sent to prison in Illinois. Their plan is to install an undercover agent, Hank Fallon masquerading as inmate Vic Pardo (Edmond O’Brien), as Cody’s cellmate in Springfield and attempt to uncover where the $300,000 from the train robbery is stashed.

Jarrett befriends Pardo and the two hatch an escape plan, which Fallon reports to the authorities. However, events in the outside world complicate things. Jarrett had earlier learned from Ma that Verna and Big Ed had run off together. Over Cody’s objections, Ma declares that she will find the couple and personally take care of Big Ed. On the planned day of his breakout, Cody learns that his Ma is dead, and he goes ballistic. Despite being held in a straightjacket after the eruption, Cody still manages to proceed with an escape. But it does not follow the plan that Fallon had outlined to federal agents, and thus the group of inmates are successful. Once out of jail, Cody immediately sets out to find Verna and Big Ed. When he finally does, he learns that Big Ed is the murderer of his beloved Ma. Verna manages to convince him that she had nothing to do with the murder, but Big Ed is not so fortunate. After dispatching Big Ed and seizing back control of his gang – which now includes an undercover agent – Cody proceeds to plan a daring payroll robbery. The plan he constructs is his version of the legend of the Trojan Horse. The thieves will hide in an oil tanker and will be let into the oil refinery without any problems.

The robbery, predictably, does not go as planned. When Cody and his men enter the refinery, they are quickly surrounded by law enforcement. True to his reputation, Cody refuses to surrender and continues fighting as he sees his partners shot down. Retreating to the top of a large tank of gas, Cody decides to make a stand. This final scene is without question the most celebrated in the entire film. It is as good (and explosive) as advertised, further reinforcing Walsh’s skill in creating tense action sequences. The entire oil refinery robbery is well-structured. Walsh does a great job of creating tension, by keeping the audience guessing as to how Vic Pardo is going to manage to alert authorities and keep himself from being discovered as a mole. It is a hard-charging final fifteen minutes to close the film, and the conclusion ranks among the most legendary in Hollywood history. As great as the conclusions to the other three films in this Cagney series are (with Angles With Dirty Faces being my personal favorite), this is the finish that is most likely to pop up in “greatest movie endings” lists.



While Rocky Sullivan is my personal favorite Cagney role, Cody Jarrett may very well be his most memorable. It is a character that sticks with you long after the film has ended. There were certainly evil characters before, but none seem to revel in the sadism as Cody does. It serves to create a very interesting perspective for the viewer. Who is the protagonist in the film? Who is the audience to root for in the contest between the criminals and the federal agents? Other Cagney films present an obvious answer, as even though the lead characters were admitted criminals and gangsters, they were shown to have at least some admirable qualities. This is not the case in White Heat. Outside of love for his mother, Cody possesses none of these. It is quite a feat that Walsh and Cagney are able to make the film work without a true hero for the audience to identify with. Cagney’s performance is so thrilling, that even if you aren’t rooting for Cody to succeed, you’re at the very least fascinated to see how far that he will make it.


Margaret Wycherly turns in an equally chilling performance. She makes Ma Jarrett nearly as vicious as Cody. The relationship between mother and son truly is bizarre. Sometimes it feels a bit over the top, such as the explaining of how the headaches were developed in childhood, but it’s unlike anything else that I’ve ever seen in crime films of the era.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

#74: High Sierra (Raoul Walsh, 1941)

Released: January 21, 1941

Director: Raoul Walsh; Screenplay: W.R. Burnett and John Huston, based on a story by W.R. Burnett; Cinematography: Tony Gaudio; Music: Adolph Deutsch; Producer: Mark Hellinger; Studio: Warner Brothers

Cast: Ida Lupino (Marie), Humphrey Bogart (Roy Earle), Alan Curtis (Babe), Arthur Kennedy (Red), Joan Leslie (Velma), Henry Hull (Doc Banton), Henry Travers (Pa), Jerome Cowan (Healy), Minna Gombell (Mrs. Baughman), Barton MacLane (Jake Kranmer), Elizabeth Risdon (Ma), Cornel Wilde (Louis Mendoza), Donald MacBride (Big Mac), Paul Harvey (Mr. Baughman), Isabel Jewell (Blonde), Willie Best (Algernon), Spencer Charters (Ed), George Meeker (Pfiffer)

- “I wouldn’t give you two cents for a dame without a temper…”

Many would argue that High Sierra might be more properly classified as a gangster film, akin to the great crime dramas like Angels With Dirty Faces or Scarface. Raoul Walsh was the director of The Roaring Twenties, one of the greatest of the classic era gangster movies. Writer W.R. Burnett also had a pedigree as being an integral part of those cycles of films, providing either the source material or screenplay for classics like Little Caesar and Scarface. Humphrey Bogart rose to prominence in the 1930s on the strength of performances in support of superstar James Cagney in Angels With Dirty Faces and The Roaring Twenties. Even the producer, Mark Hellinger, was behind many of these aforementioned films. So it has the traits of another in the line of classic gangster films. It’s inclusion in this countdown underscores a key point in the development of noir: the natural progression that was made from gangster films into what would come to be known as film noir. There are many similarities between the two. And so the most proper classification of High Sierra would likely be that of a transitional film, and one of the early ones to bridge the gap between the gangster films of the 1930s and the noir that would flourish for the next two decades.

One of the best treatments of the difference between gangster films and film noir is an appendix to Film Noir: An Encyclopedic Reference to the American Style by Alain Silver and Elizabeth Ward (an excellent reference book, by the way). They argue that one of the key differences is that, on the whole, the gangster films maintained a sense of distorted idealism – gangsters like Tom Powers and Rico Bandello using crime as a means to rise above the slums and squalor of city life. Conversely, lead characters in noirs tend to see their demise coming, ruminate on why they are about to take a fall, and oftentimes simply accept it. Although a generalization, and not likely to fit every film that is analyzed, I think that this is a convincing argument and one that certainly applies to High Sierra.


Humphrey Bogart stars as Roy Earle, a recently paroled bank robber who begins working on his next job the minute he secures his crooked release from prison. Traveling to California to lead a robbery of an upscale hotel, Roy meets a family of transplanted Okies on their way west. Roy quickly develops an eye for the granddaughter Velma (Joan Leslie), a clubfooted girl who charms Roy with her innocence. Arriving at the secluded resort where the job will be planned, Roy discovers that his two partners (Alan Curtis and Arthur Kennedy) have a woman from Los Angeles staying with them. Marie (Ida Lupino) is a former dancer who is attracted to the prospects of parlaying an association with the criminals into a better life. Roy at first tolerates her, and then develops a friendship, while Marie almost instantly falls for the famous gangster. Roy also maintains contact with the Okie family, visiting them in order to drop off money to have Velma’s foot fixed. He clearly has plans to marry Velma once he successfully pulls off the robbery. Complications with the heist, followed by Roy being spurned by a now-mobile Velma, leads to Roy and Marie going on the run with the faint hope of cashing in on the heist and then escaping to freedom.

The visual style of the film is certainly not traditional noir, as the bulk of the story takes place in the wide open mountain landscapes of California. There are not the usual light-dark contrasts and shadows lurking at every turn. What qualifies this film as a noir, in my opinion, is what Silver and Ward described in their outstanding essay. Roy is a man who knows that his life is on a path toward destruction, and even tells Marie that traveling with him is a quick way to wind up dead or in trouble. As Doc Banton (Henry Hull) tells Roy, he is the kind of guy who is “just rushing toward death.” Roy acknowledges as much, constantly talking about “crashing out.” He knows his end will not be pleasant, but seems to know no other way to live. In attempting to help Velma and marry an innocent, respectable girl, he makes an attempt at vindication. But as is common in noir, he seems fated to never achieve such respectability.


The historical significance of High Sierra is probably even more important than the actual merits of the movie. Bogart had to finagle his way into the role of Roy Earl by convincing George Raft, who was hoping to break free of gangster typecasting, to turn down the offer. When Raft complied, Bogart got the nod for a role that he had coveted since first reading the screenplay. This is the film that catapulted Bogey to the status of the brightest star in Hollywood. High Sierra would be the last movie in which he did not receive top-billing, and the classic films and roles that instantly come to mind when the name “Bogart” is mentioned would come in the next few years.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

White Heat (Raoul Walsh, 1949)

Released: September 2, 1949 (U.S.)

Director: Raoul Walsh; Screenplay: Ivan Goff, Ben Roberts, based on story by Virginia Kellogg; Cinematography: Sidney Hickox; Studio: Warner Bros.; Producer: Louis F. Edelman; Music: Max Steiner

Cast: James Cagney (Cody Jarrett), Virginia Mayo (Verna Jarrett), Margaret Wycherly (Ma Jarrett), Edmond O’Brien (Vic Pardo/Hank Fallon), Steve Cochran (Big Ed Somers), John Archer (Philip Evans)

- "Made it, Ma! Top of the world!"

After chronicling three superlative performances by James Cagney through many of his gangster roles of the 1930s and 40s, I can’t believe I am about to say this, but this role might be his best. It is an entirely different beast from the other characters that he had previously played. Rocky Sullivan and Eddie Bartlett were at least moderately sympathetic, continually displaying goodhearted qualities in between their illicit activities. Even Tom Powers, vicious as he could be, found redemption before his kidnapping at the end of The Public Enemy. There are no such redeemable qualities in Cody Jarrett. He is an unequivocal sociopath, as ferocious as any character ever committed to celluloid up to that point in time. Cody never even pretends to seek redemption.

In White Heat, Cagney is reunited with director Raoul Walsh, a duo with a proven track record. But this is a different film from their previous effort, The Roaring Twenties, and not just because of the sadistic character played by Cagney. Most critics and observers refer to White Heat as the final chapter of the classic Warner Brothers gangster films. I contend (as I did in my earlier review of The Roaring Twenties), that this is not entirely accurate and that White Heat has actually moved into a different area of the crime drama. The Roaring Twenties contains all of the archetypal elements of the “classic” gangster film – big-city racketeers, syndicates, gang wars. White Heat, in contrast, has none of these. Cody Jarrett and his partners operate as a band of outlaws, actually more similar to the gangs of Jesse James and other western renegades than to Al Capone and Lucky Luciano.

This is not at all a criticism. I just think it’s necessary to recognize that this film, released in 1949, bears a closer resemblance to film noir than to previous gangster efforts. Obviously, these two genres are not mutually exclusive, and ultimately it’s an argument of semantics. But it's an interesting issue to ponder, especially because White Heat’s place in the gangster cycle is unquestioned and oftentimes overshadows the great effort that was The Roaring Twenties. Looking at White Heat from a slightly different vantage point allows both films to shine for their own unique reasons.


The fact that Raoul Walsh is directing means that the action sequences of the film are top quality. The first scenes of the film are spectacular. It opens with sweeping shots of rural California, with plumes of smoke shooting into the air from a locomotive as it weaves its way through the mountains. Simultaneously, Cody and his men are moving into position to hijack the train. As the inside men on board overtake workers, Cody and henchman position themselves on the tracks. Once the engineer unwittingly begins to bring the train to a stop precisely where the gang wants them, the stunning scene of Cody Jarrett leaping from an overpass onto the moving train commences the robbery. This is not the most celebrated scene in the film (I’ll let you guess which one that would be), but it is arguably the most visually appealing. The team makes off with $300,000 of federal money, but it is not a perfect job. Gang member Zuckie (Ford Rainey) is severely burned by steam from the engine, and his health steadily declines as the gang holes up in the California mountains to avoid law enforcement.


While hiding in the mountains, the principal characters are introduced and the personalities that will contribute to the conflict throughout the film are on full display. We meet Cody’s wife Verna (Virginia Mayo), a beautiful woman who loathes the lack of luxuries involved with life on the run. The various gang members are introduced, most notably Big Ed (Steve Cochran), a powerfully built underling who seems to have aspirations for control of the gang. Cody clearly has suspicions of this ambition, as well as the notion that Big Ed is trying to cozy up to Verna. Whenever the two come into close contact with each other – even for something innocuous as Verna pouring Big Ed a cup of coffee – Cody erupts in anger. Finally, and most importantly, is Ma Jarrett (Margaret Wycherly), the singular influence on the attitudes and actions of Cody. The elderly Ma distrusts everyone in the cabin other than her son, Verna included, and never hesitates to counsel caution and violence to keep Cody safe. Just witness her recommendation to Cody that they should not leave the injured Zuckie in the cabin to be found by police after the rest of the gang moves on. Her solution? Get rid of him. After all, he might talk.

It is in the cabin that another layer is added to the Cody Jarrett character, as he experiences a crippling headache that has him falling to the floor and grimacing in pain. Ma ushers him into a side bedroom so that the rest of the gang does not see him in such a helpless state. Cody is calmed by his mother and collects himself by sitting on his mother’s lap. This scene highlights the intriguing bond between mother and son, introducing something of an Oedipus dynamic to the relationship. Later in the film, when federal agents are discussing Cody, one remarks that as a child Cody would fake headaches in order to get his mother’s attention away from the rest of the family. But as he grew older, the imagined headaches became very real and reached the debilitating level that is witnessed in the cabin. Treasury Agent Philip Evans (John Archer) declares that “Any minute he’s apt to crack open at the seams.”

The opening train robbery essentially sets the stage for everything else that happens. After the gang leaves the mountains, they split up and continue to evade law enforcement. When the authorities finally catch up to Cody, he admits to pulling off a payroll robbery in a completely different state. By doing this, he hopes to receive less prison time than he would for the train robbery and the murder of one of the railroad men in the process. The Treasury agents on the train robbery case see through the ruse, but allow Cody to believe that he has outwitted them. Instead, the federal agents ensure that Cody’s story is accepted and that he is sent to prison in Illinois. Their plan is to install an undercover agent, Hank Fallon masquerading as inmate Vic Pardo (Edmond O’Brien), as Cody’s cellmate in Springfield and attempt to uncover where the $300,000 from the train robbery is stashed.

Jarrett befriends Pardo and the two hatch an escape plan, which Fallon reports to the authorities. However, events in the outside world complicate things. Jarrett had earlier learned from Ma that Verna and Big Ed had run off together. Over Cody’s objections, Ma declares that she will find the couple and personally take care of Big Ed. On the planned day of his breakout, Cody learns that his Ma is dead, and he goes ballistic. Despite being held in a straightjacket after the eruption, Cody still manages to proceed with an escape. But it does not follow the plan that Fallon had outlined to federal agents, and thus the group of inmates are successful. Once out of jail, Cody immediately sets out to find Verna and Big Ed. When he finally does, he learns that Big Ed is the murderer of his beloved Ma. Verna manages to convince him that she had nothing to do with the murder, but Big Ed is not so fortunate. After dispatching Big Ed and seizing back control of his gang – which now includes an undercover agent – Cody proceeds to plan a daring payroll robbery. The plan he constructs is his version of the legend of the Trojan Horse. The thieves will hide in an oil tanker and will be let into the oil refinery without any problems.

The robbery, predictably, does not go as planned. When Cody and his men enter the refinery, they are quickly surrounded by law enforcement. True to his reputation, Cody refuses to surrender and continues fighting as he sees his partners shot down. Retreating to the top of a large tank of gas, Cody decides to make a stand. This final scene is without question the most celebrated in the entire film. It is as good (and explosive) as advertised, further reinforcing Walsh’s skill in creating tense action sequences. The entire oil refinery robbery is well-structured. Walsh does a great job of creating tension, by keeping the audience guessing as to how Vic Pardo is going to manage to alert authorities and keep himself from being discovered as a mole. It is a hard-charging final fifteen minutes to close the film, and the conclusion ranks among the most legendary in Hollywood history. As great as the conclusions to the other three films in this Cagney series are (with Angles With Dirty Faces being my personal favorite), this is the finish that is most likely to pop up in “greatest movie endings” lists.



While Rocky Sullivan is my personal favorite Cagney role, Cody Jarrett may very well be his most memorable. It is a character that sticks with you long after the film has ended. There were certainly evil characters before, but none seem to revel in the sadism as Cody does. It serves to create a very interesting perspective for the viewer. Who is the protagonist in the film? Who is the audience to root for in the contest between the criminals and the federal agents? Other Cagney films present an obvious answer, as even though the lead characters were admitted criminals and gangsters, they were shown to have at least some admirable qualities. This is not the case in White Heat. Outside of love for his mother, Cody possesses none of these. It is quite a feat that Walsh and Cagney are able to make the film work without a true hero for the audience to identify with. Cagney’s performance is so thrilling, that even if you aren’t rooting for Cody to succeed, you’re at the very least fascinated to see how far that he will make it.


Margaret Wycherly turns in an equally chilling performance. She makes Ma Jarrett nearly as vicious as Cody. The relationship between mother and son truly is bizarre. Sometimes it feels a bit over the top, such as the explaining of how the headaches were developed in childhood, but it’s unlike anything else that I’ve ever seen in crime films of the era.

I’ve made the bold statement that this may be Cagney’s best performance, but you’ll notice that I’ve been careful not to claim this to be his best film. While this is probably the most critically acclaimed of the four films I’ve reviewed in this series, I don't feel that it’s his best. As entertaining as it is, and as great as individual performances are, the story itself is not as compelling for me as in the other films. The reason may be that in the other classic films, there were equal foils to Cagney characters, creating a tension that added greatly to the story. Pat O’Brien in Angels With Dirty Faces and Humphrey Bogart in The Roaring Twenties were able to rise to Cagney’s level. In White Heat, it is Cagney almost single-handedly carrying the show. He is more than up to the task, and while I wouldn’t rank it above the two previously mentioned films, it is still one that is influential and a major part of Hollywood history. I watch it regularly and Cagney’s performance never loses any of its edge.

Rating: 8/10


- NOTE: Aside from comments just on White Heat, feel free to discuss how you would rank the four Cagney films I've reviewed... I'd be interested to hear how everybody feels they stack up against each other.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

The Roaring Twenties (Raoul Walsh, 1939)

Released: October 23, 1939

Director: Raoul Walsh; Screenplay: Jerry Wald, Richard Macauley, Robert Rossen based on story "The World Moves On" by Mark Hellinger; Cinematography: Ernest Haller; Studio: Warner Bros.; Producer: Hal B. Wallis

Cast:
James Cagney (Eddie Bartlett), Humphrey Bogart (George Halley), Gladys George (Panama Smith), Prsicilla Lane (Jean Sherman), Jeffrey Lynn (Lloyd Hart), Frank McHugh (Danny Green), Paul Kelly (Nick Brown)

1939 truly was a momentous year in Hollywood. The number of films released that year that are still revered to this day is staggering. Gone With the Wind, Dark Victory, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, Stagecoach, Only Angels Have Wings, Ninotchka, Goodbye, Mr. Chips, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Wizard of Oz, and Wuthering Heights just to name the first that to come to mind. This is the likes of Fleming, Hawks, Lubitsch, Capra, and Ford at, or near, the top of their games. And yet, in my opinion, there is another deserving film released that year that is rarely mentioned in the same breath as these legendary pictures. Raoul Walsh’s The Roaring Twenties serves as a final statement of the classic Warner Brothers gangster films and I would contend that it is the best to come out of Hollywood in 1939.

James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart had worked together in two other films – in the same year’s The Oklahoma Kid and in 1938’s gangster classic Angels With Dirty Faces. In Angels With Dirty Faces, though, Bogart was playing something of a lesser role. In The Roaring Twenties, while Cagney was still receiving top billing, it is the tense interaction between him and Bogey that gives the film its unique perspective on the gangster genre.

While some have dismissed the tale as simply another take on the usual rise and fall gangster story, it is actually unique in the way that it’s told. Cagney’s Eddie Bartlett is certainly the primary character, but the story actually follows three men that are drawn into the rackets during the decade. Each of the three becomes involved for different reasons, and each possesses varying degrees of ruthlessness, but all three are shown to contribute to the legend of the decade known as the Roaring Twenties in some way.


The three men meet in a foxhole in France in the midst of World War I. Eddie, a good-natured mechanic, wishes nothing more than to return to New York and open his own garage. George Hally (Humphrey Bogart), possessing a more coldhearted disposition, is looking forward to running the saloon his father owns. The third man, Lloyd Hart (Jeffrey Lynn) is the mild-mannered man of the trio. He is a recent law school graduate and plans to begin his practice once he makes it out of Europe. After the Armistice is signed, they return to the city and attempt to resume the lives they left before going to war but they find that times have changed. Eddie is under the impression that his old job as a mechanic will be waiting for him upon his return. Instead, he finds he has been replaced and that there is resentment felt toward the returning workers. In order to generate some income, Eddie begins driving the cab of his friend and roommate Danny (Frank McHugh). On one fare, a customer asks Eddie to deliver a bag of goods to someone named Panama Smith. When he does so, he unwittingly gets busted for delivering bootleg liquor and the two are arrested. Even though he had no part of the operation, Eddie refuses to testify against Panama (Gladys George). Panama appreciates the favor and in turn pays the fine levied against Eddie. Impressed by Eddie’s conduct, she offers to use her connections to set the two up in the bootlegging business. With no other prospects for work on the horizon, Eddie enters the rackets and prospers. He becomes incredibly wealthy, battling his way toward the top of the bootlegging business, while buying pieces of clubs and a fleet of taxicabs.


Lloyd, although not a direct participant in the rackets, is drawn into the periphery of the underworld while acting as Eddie’s lawyer. While brokering deals for Eddie to continue buying cabs, Lloyd begins to openly question his involvement in the shady activities. The relationship between Lloyd and his former army comrades is further complicated when he begins to fall in love with a singer/entertainer that Eddie has set up with a job in his club. The girl, Jean Sherman (Priscilla Lane), wrote to Eddie while she was in high school and he was fighting in Europe. When Eddie reconnects with her working as a chorus girl, he takes her under his wing and begins to develop an affection for her as well. The uneasy love triangle complicates all interaction between the three.

George, meanwhile, enters the rackets naturally. Due to being involved in the saloon business and possessing a ruthless streak dating back to the Army, it’s no surprise that he is in such a line of work. He begins captaining rum-running boats for the biggest racketeer in town, Nick Brown (Paul Kelly). While overseeing one such shipment he is reunited with Eddie, as Eddie and his gang come aboard and hijack the liquor. Rather than protect his employer’s product, George decides to instead partner with Eddie and expand their bootlegging operations. Once these various interconnected partnerships are established, the film begins to follow the forces that ultimately bring about Eddie Bartlett’s demise.

To understand the course of events of the film, it’s necessary to understand Eddie. He is a man who is attempting to cross over into areas which are unnatural to him. And this straddling both sides – both in his relationship with two potential love interests and in the underworld – eventually brings about the dramatic downfall. In his personal life, he very early finds a woman with whom he has much in common and is at ease with. Panama clearly has feelings for him, and even though he is not as open about it, Eddie obviously feels strongly about her. Even when he is wooing the younger Jean, Walsh highlights the almost subconscious affection Eddie shows toward Panama, such as when they are watching Jean audition and Eddie naturally reaches out and takes Panama’s hand. He is drawn toward Jean, the chorus girl who has more in common with the college-educated Lloyd. Yet, he never can completely distance himself from the relationship that he has established with Panama. When Jean eventually ends up marrying Lloyd, there is no surprise that Eddie sticks ever closer to Panama. As a gangster, he is an outsider. He is not a lifelong criminal, someone who has been groomed from a young age for a life of crime. Only after being unable to find work is he drawn into the business. Even though he becomes enamored of the money and power that comes with his status, there is always uneasiness about Eddie in the rackets.


This awkwardness is given emphasis through the relationship between Eddie and George. While Eddie enters the rackets somewhat reluctantly, George is a natural. He is unabashedly coldblooded, willing to deceive any partner or kill any enemy in order to achieve his ends. The interaction between Cagney and Bogart is at its absolute pinnacle in this film. They worked marvelously together in Angels With Dirty Faces, but their on-screen time was limited compared to this movie. The tension that underlies every meeting of the two men is palpable. These are old war buddies, men who literally were sitting together in foxholes and shooting at enemy Germans behind stone walls. They are business associates attempting to succeed in an increasingly dangerous business. They should be able to trust each other. And yet, no matter how friendly their interaction, there is a perpetual friction between them. Soon into their partnership, it becomes obvious that it is going to fall apart at some point. It is not a matter of if, but when. Most of this tension is played out in a war of words. This is where the two legendary actors shine. Bogart is tremendous as the conniving underboss. The viciousness he displays at times truly is astounding for a film of this era. It is through Bogart’s convincing performance as Hally that Eddie Bartlett is able be structured as such a tragic figure.

Eddie’s downward spiral is tragic because of where he lands in relation to George. Even though he was engaged in the same business as George, Eddie comes to be viewed sympathetically. Here is a man who was drawn to bootlegging due to lack of work. He was a gangster who tried to avoid violence, in contrast to George who was forever bloodthirsty. While it may not be entirely true, Eddie is portrayed as a good man at heart. Yet, when the Roaring Twenties come to a screeching halt with the stock market crash, which of the two men emerges unscathed? George. Eddie is penniless, back to driving a single cab, and increasingly dependent on the product that he used to peddle.

The original story, written by film producer Mark Hellinger is based on real-life events that Hellinger experienced. Hellinger points this out in an on-screen forward to the film, but does not tell precisely who or what specific events were used as his source material. However, it’s easy to pinpoint who the Eddie Bartlett is based on – gangster and Hell’s Kitchen native Larry Fay. Like the Bartlett character, Fay was a former cabbie who entered the bootlegging and nightclub businesses. After amassing a small fortune through liquor, he too began buying a fleet of taxicabs. At the end of the film, when Eddie tells George that people from Chicago offered him millions for his cabs, but he instead refused and is forced to sell to George for just $250,000, this is straight from an apocryphal Larry Fay story. While well-established among his contemporaries, Fay’s reputation in the underworld was known as a nonviolent gangster. Like Eddie, Fay lost a fortune when the stock market crashed, but was continually trying to find another angle back to the top. Fay was killed in 1933 by a disgruntled employee at a club he owned.

This film was the one that established Raoul Walsh’s reputation as a topflight action director. In particular, the shootout sequence between Eddie and rival Nick Brown and his henchmen is outstanding. As Eddie and his men enter the restaurant, the cameras are positioned at vantage points that give the audience the same vision as Brown and his men. Thus, you see Eddie and his men enter the club as if you personally are crouched and waiting to open fire on them. The patrons in the restaurant are used to build up the tension, as they panic just before the gunfire erupts. Then, the editing becomes very quick, cutting to the various gunmen as they unload their weapons. It is a great sequence and is eclipsed only by the famous death sequence that closes the film.



The structure of the film is a mixture of documentary style and traditional narrative. In hindsight, many such films that utilize the documentary style can come across as old-fashioned and very much an artifact of the era. In this case, it works quite well. This is due to the fact that the narration is used exclusively to fill in details concerning the decade of the 1920s. Since it’s not telling us about feelings or actions of the characters, it doesn’t feel obtrusive as narration often can. Instead, we learn about social developments of the 20s, creating the context for which the lives of Eddie, George, Panama and company progress. This is one of the few times that I didn’t find the documentary style to be incredibly corny.

Walsh would go on direct other celebrated crime dramas, most notably 1941’s High Sierra with Humphrey Bogart and 1949’s White Heat with Cagney. However, The Roaring Twenties serves as a conclusion to a particular type of gangster film. While movies like High Sierra and White Heat are thematically similar to the classic era, they deal more with lone wolf outlaws. In this film, Walsh chronicles the famed hoodlums who built syndicates and roamed major cities like celebrities. Its story of the meteoric rise and disastrous fall of these men is the perfect capstone to the cycle.

Rating: 9/10