The
years of the 1940s following World War II exhibited a striking change in
Hollywood movies. The moods and world outlooks of post-war GIs and the people
they had left behind and to whom they returned were more reflective and
serious. Awareness of societal ills that had always been with us were now at
the forefront… and Hollywood stepped up to address this new American angst in
the form of a) what film historians call “social problem films” that tackled
issues such as alcoholism, drug addiction, anti-Semitism, racism, government
corruption, and other hitherto taboos of motion pictures, and b) film noir, the
gritty crime dramas that never sugar-coated anything and portrayed both men and
women—the femmes fatale—as hard-boiled, cynical, and paranoid.
Two
pictures were released in 1947 that tackled anti-Semitism with frank,
hard-hitting realism. One was Elia Kazan’s Gentleman’s Agreement, a more
passive investigation of anti-Semitism in America that won the Oscar for Best
Picture. Often overlooked today, however, is the other Best Picture nominee of
that year—the film noir crime drama, Crossfire, which examined the
subject in a more violent and edgy concoction. Directed by Edward Dmytryk, who
would just a year later be under investigation by the House Un-American
Activities Committee and ultimately become one of the infamously blacklisted
“Hollywood Ten,” Crossfire could very well be the more substantially
shocking movie of the two. It also appeared in theaters three months earlier.
Besides
the Best Picture nomination, Dmytryk was nominated for Best Director, the
script by John Paxton was up for Adapted Screenplay, and both Robert Ryan and
Gloria Grahame were nominated for Supporting Actor and Actress, respectively. Crossfire
was no throwaway B-movie film noir. It is both a film noir and a
social problem film!
Ironically,
the story was not supposed to be about anti-Semitism at all. The movie is based
on a novel, The Brick Foxhole, by Richard Brooks (yes, the same Richard
Brooks who went on to become a formidable screenwriter/director in the 50s,
60s, and 70s). The novel is about the murder of a homosexual—not a Jew! At the
time, there was no way the Hays Office (Production Code) would allow a film to
be made with this subject matter, so producer Adrian Scott and Dmytryk changed
the tale… and yet the film could really be about any “other” against whom
racist, bigoted, homophobic, or intolerant people might hate. As police captain
Finlay (Robert Young) says in the picture, “Hate is a loaded gun.” The murder
victim could have been homosexual, black, Asian, Irish, or whatever—and the
movie would have the same potency.
A
man named Joseph Samuels is found beaten to death in his apartment. We later
learn that the man was Jewish, which was the motivation for his killing. The
story unfolds that a group of GIs have been demobilized in Washington DC and
are waiting for either further orders or a discharge. They are all
disillusioned and restless. Sergeant Keeley (Robert Mitchum) is the world-weary
leader of the group, which consists of hot-headed and abrasive Montgomery
(Robert Ryan), sensitive and “lost” Mitchell (George Cooper), and hard-up-for-money
Bowers (Steve Brodie). Flashbacks reveal that Montgomery, Mitchell, and Bowers
met civilian Samuels (Sam Levene) and his girlfriend, Miss Lewis (Marlo Dwyer)
in a bar. Samuels empathized with Mitchell’s unhappiness and invited him to
come along to dinner with them. They stopped at his apartment first while Miss
Lewis went home to change. Montgomery and Bowers followed them, thinking that
the party had simply moved locations. Later, once Captain Finlay begins the
investigation, Mitchell has disappeared and has become the prime suspect. But
all is not what it seems.
This
is a tightly-wound, suspenseful picture presented in classic film noir style
(expressionistic lighting and photography, brutal characterizations, and plenty
of tough talk). The actors are all excellent, especially Young, who handles the
proceedings with calm, thoughtful deliberation. Ryan, in this early appearance,
established himself as a contender with a showy role that justifies the Oscar
nomination. Gloria Grahame, in a small role, portrays a jaded, no-nonsense bar
girl whom Mitchell befriends—she, too, displays the hallmarks of many of her
onscreen characterizations.
Warner
Archive’s new Blu-ray restoration looks terrific in its glorious black and
white. It comes with an audio commentary by film historians Alain Silver and
James Ursini, and there are audio interview excerpts with director Dmytryk. A
short featurette on the film’s making and impact is also a welcome supplement.
Crossfire
is
still relevant today—perhaps even more so than it was in 1947. The only thing
dated about it is the 1940s film noir filmmaking style—and what’s wrong with
that? Nothing! Highly recommended.
