Joan VS Jack Death Match in Nifty Noir “Sudden Fear” 1952

Jack Palance lights Joan Crawford's fire in 1952's "woman in jeopardy" film noir,
 "Sudden Fear."

I watched Sudden Fear starring Joan Crawford for the first time in years, with renewed interest. The film has grown in reputation in recent decades, what with several high profile film critics championing the film noir flick as a classic. 

Sudden Fear was the first film Crawford made as an independent after leaving her second long term studio contract, this time with Warner Brothers. Like the post-MGM Mildred Pierce, Sudden Fear gave Crawford’s career a shot in the arm. Fear was not in the same league as her biggest comeback with Mildred, but was enough to keep her career going in its 4th decade, especially in 1950s Hollywood, when the studio system was swiftly beginning to wane.

Joan Crawford gets to be glam and serious in the 1952 suspense noir, "Sudden Fear."

What I remembered as a solid star vehicle, is currently called one of Crawford's finest films. Well, I still think Sudden Fear is a solid star vehicle, not a classic, yet admirable in its own right. The nifty noir is not Mildred Pierce, Humoresque, or Possessed by any means, but closer to Crawford's slick star vehicles like Flamingo Road and The Damned Don't Cry. And Sudden Fear is certainly more substantial than camp classics that followed, such as Queen Bee and Female on the Beach. 

Though "Sudden Fear" was filmed on a moderate budget,
these essentials were provided for Miss Crawford's wealthy character.

An expert collection of artists were rounded up for Sudden Fear, a “woman in jeopardy” thriller: director David Miller, skilled with star actors; screenwriter Lenore Coffee, who had worked at Metro with Joan; Sheila O'Brien, Joan's favored designer, for the costumes; cinematographer Charles Lang; and composer Elmer Bernstein for the ominous, booming score. Newcomer Jack Palance was cast as the younger husband, and noir queen Gloria Grahame as the other woman. Bruce Bennett, who had played Mildred Pierce’s first husband Bert, was a good luck charm, as the family lawyer, and Flamingo Road co-star Virginia Huston played Joan’s secretary.

Joan Crawford with Bruce Bennett, Virginia Huston, and Jack Palance in 1952's "Sudden Fear." Huston reminds me of Carole Lombard here.

Many veteran film divas have done a "woman in jeopardy" movie, so it's only fitting that superstar Joan starred in several of this genre. Throughout her film stardom, Crawford’s movies often cast her as adversarial characters toward her leading men, which intensified at WB. And with Sudden Fear, the adversarial became antagonistic, with Joan often fighting for her film life.

While Joan often played working girls and women, which played off her well-known backstory, Crawford loved to play "great ladies" on-screen and labored to be thought of as one off-screen. As Myra Hudson (no relation to Blanche or Jane!), she's an heiress who has found further wealth and prestige as a playwright. The heiress/playwright is so loaded that she plans on leaving her inherited wealth to charity. 

Joan Crawford's heiress/playwright revises her will in hubby's favor, with her
 recorder. And will soon hear back a message from him! 1952's "Sudden Fear."

Crawford is great fun to watch as the playwright planning her life and dictating missives to her recorder in the most dignified of tones, as if she’s giving a sermon. Yet, there's a genuine warmth to her character as the lonely career woman who lets love come later into her life. Just a few years later, Joan herself would find the same, after being single a decade, when she married Pepsi’s Alfred Steele.

Joan Crawford as Myra Hudson, heiress and playwright, in 1952's "Sudden Fear."

When Crawford's Myra has to let the leading contender go from her latest play, the actor leaves in an angry huff. But a "chance" meeting on a train trip from NYC's Broadway back to California's San Fran, they meet again and fall in love. Myra is in seventh heaven, but Jack Palance as Lester Blaine is steadily revealed to be the schemer from hell. 

Stranger on a train, indeed! Jack Palance as Lester Blaine, in 1952's "Sudden Fear."

While Crawford gets to emote up a storm as Myra Hudson, David Miller was an adept studio/star director. He lets Joan give a diva performance without going totally over the top in this taut thriller. Crawford's expressions of loneliness as well as happiness as the betrayed bride are most believable. Joan’s solo scenes in Myra’s study and hiding out in Irene's apartment in climatic scenes are played big, but not to the total point of ridiculousness. Joan uses all her accumulated acting skills and tricks to put this character and story across and got a well-deserved Oscar nomination. Only a few times are there camp moments: Myra's imagining the different ways hubby Lester could kill her while bug-eyed with fear or Joan hiding in terror at Irene's before the finale, sweating like she’s in a sauna, instead of closet. 

Joan Crawford strikes one of her go-to movie poses in 1952's "Sudden Fear."

What I found interesting is that Myra's career as a playwright is a stellar success, but has no romantic life. She is great at creating characters, but not a great judge of character, and is fooled by this actor—and a “charm boy,” at that! Also interesting is that Lester Blaine's shady past is not spelled out. What really did happen at that house on Fire Island, for instance? Lester is a hot head, yet amazingly keeps his cool as he jumps through hoops in Myra's world.

Once the facade is dropped and Myra finds her life in jeopardy, Sudden Fear goes into overdrive as the newlyweds plot to kill each other. How fascinating that the genteel playwright's gut reaction is to fight back with her own plan of murder. Yes, she drops and shatters the recording of Lester's murderous intentions. But I think the authorities would easily believe old money Myra over no-name actor Lester. Hey, film noirs aren't renowned for their believable plotting. So, game on!

Who's zoomin' who? Myra and Lester let the death match begin in "Sudden Fear."

I won't give away the endless twists except to say that when it comes to the finale, Lester and Myra make such a racket in their death match that it's amazing the entire neighborhood isn't awakened by their Tom and Jerry-style chase!

How intriguing that a number of the plot twists hinge on accessories of the day that are now a thing of the past: monogrammed kerchiefs, stationary, and head scarves. In this film noir, everyone smokes like chimneys, have guns tucked in their furs and overcoats, and notes hidden in gloves!

There are also some nods to living legend Crawford's way of life: her overly coordinated wardrobe, ankle strap shoes, and even an extremely organized list of a revenge timeline against her hubby and his girlfriend.

Like Joan Crawford herself, Myra Hudson is very organized, right down to her murder timeline, in 1952's "Sudden Fear."

Jack Palance got his big break with Sudden Fear. As the beginning actor who becomes the husband to older, wealthy playwright, Palance goes from charming suitor to doting husband to brutish opportunist skillfully. Palance is intense, made even more so with his severe facial features. Jack got a Best Supporting Actor nomination, though he was actually the film’s leading man.

Jack Palance, with his intensity and severe looks, was perfect as the villain husband,
in 1952's "Sudden Fear."

As with Myra, Lester Blaine has a dualistic personality. The one he shows to Joan's Myra is sensitive and cultured as the struggling young actor. Quoting Shakespeare, reading to her, and solicitous to her needs, plus letting her monogram everything he owns! Then when scheming with Gloria's Irene, Lester's animalistic, even when he is showing affection.

Irene Neves, Lester’s partner in crime, is played by Gloria Grahame. It just happens that Irene has also changed coasts, from New York City to San Francisco. And with no visible means of support, Irene has started dating a friend of Myra’s family, "Junior," played by a young Mike Connors, here billed as “Touch.”

Gloria Grahame as the vixen of "Sudden Fear" has some of the best lines! Here she is with a very young Mike Connors as her suitor.

Gloria's performance as the sexy, poisonous little Kewpie doll is delicious. Gloria’s a bit of droll comic relief from the glowering intensity of Crawford and Palance. Grahame won a supporting Oscar that year, not for Sudden Fear, but for The Bad and the Beautiful.

The ex-couple re-team for a more drastic plan. Unfortunately, one of their debriefings takes place in Myra's study, which has a state of the art recording system that was left on. The revelation in Myra's library is skillfully done, as is the murder as it's supposed to happen, as opposed to how it really goes down. It's all a bit far-fetched for my taste, but is still great fun to watch. The final scene has Joan walking off into the wee hours alone, as was often the case!

A striking moment by Joan Crawford in 1952's "Sudden Fear," when Myra Hudson sees what she has become. 

A look at Joan Crawford sparring with Jeff Chandler, Female on the Beach:

https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2023/01/love-is-beach-for-lana-joan.html

One of the many absurdities of FX's "Feud: Bette and Joan" was 70ish
Jessica Lange recreating snippets of Crawford's greatest hits.
For "Sudden Fear," Jessica looks more like Kaitlyn Jenner than Joan!

Bogie & Lizabeth Scott in Derivative ‘Dead Reckoning’ 1947

 

Lizabeth Scott & Humphrey Bogart team for 1947's film noir, "Dead Reckoning."

Humphrey Bogart's Dead Reckoning was released in 1947 by Columbia Pictures, the same year as Bogie’s WB effort, Dark Passage. Both film noirs had a few things in common: Bogart's on the lam, looking for a killer; there's Bogie-style noir narration; and he meets mysterious blondes that instantly fall for him.

Humphrey Bogart as war hero "Rip" Murdock, in 1947's "Dead Reckoning." 
Bogie's Rip is determined to get the bottom of the death of his war buddy.

Dead Reckoning feels like a mashup of Gilda and The Maltese Falcon. This Columbia film noir was intended as a vehicle for their top star, Rita Hayworth, to be teamed with Bogart for the first time. Imagine, Bogie working with the inspiration for his later film, The Barefoot Contessa! But Rita was still toiling on hubby Orson Welles’ own noir, The Lady from Shanghai. Columbia cleverly borrowed new star Lizabeth Scott from Paramount, considered “The Threat” to Bogie's co-star and spouse, Lauren Bacall. They were both blonde with husky voices but that's where the similarities end.

They didn't call Lizabeth Scott smoky-voiced for nothing! Humphrey Bogart lights
her cigarette and more, in 1947's "Dead Reckoning."

In Dead Reckoning, Bogart plays “Rip” Murdock, a war hero who is looking for the killer of his wartime comrade. The movie opens with Bogie's soldier on the run from cops and bad guys. Injured, he ducks into a church. There, he begins confessing his tale to an Air Force chaplain in true film noir narration style. I was smiling, imagining what the priest thought of this over-detailed, lingo-laden tale of woe, which lasts for most of the movie! It reminded me of Carol Burnett’s Mildred Fierce, where she tells the police her story in flashback, starting when she was a poor little girl with shabby shoes!

Humphrey Bogart hides out in a church and tells his long, convoluted tale to a priest,
in the 1947 film noir, "Dead Reckoning."

Film noirs are renowned for their coincidences and Dead Reckoning is no exception. Bogie barely gets to his missing pal's home town before the coincidences start a collision pile-up. When he arrives in Gulf City, he happens to check into the hotel that his buddy already booked for him, knowing he'd follow him. A fugitive AND a friend, how thoughtful! A trip to the library to research any clues on his pal’s life before the military handily provides front page headlines of his pal's involvement in a murder. Later, at the night club where these peeps patronized, The Sanctuary, meeting these characters proves instantly fruitful. One witness is a very nervous bartender. The lady in question sidles up to Rip before he barely has time for a first sip of his drink. The bad guys then zero in on the soldier turned sleuth. The bartender has some secret info for Bogie’s Rip, which means he'll soon turn up dead. Of course, Lizabeth Scott’s Coral Chandler is a nightclub singer, and is soon asked to sing her signature ditty from their table! And no way does it resemble Scott’s speaking voice, plus her blowfish mouth movements—all very strange, since Lizabeth made several musical records later.

Love these old movies where the leading man or lady in question has a framed picture to represent them at a climatic moment! Humphrey Bogart and Lizabeth Scott
in 1947's "Dead Reckoning."

The smooth club owner and his sadistic sidekick run the club the size of a soundstage and they seem to have something on Lizabeth's song bird. Bogie’s Rip is wary of all of them. Perhaps he saw Gilda! From there, Rip is determined to get the info and the murder weapon back, but he seems thwarted at every turn. Who keeps tripping him up? From there, there's some plot lifting of The Maltese Falcon.

***Spoiler Alert Ahead***

Bogie does the best he can with the over the top dialogue assigned to him. That he does so credibly speaks to Bogie's talent as a screen actor. As for Lizabeth Scott, it's hard to get a bead on her. Back in the day, she was poorly reviewed, often called wooden. I don't think that's true, but while her character shows warmth, Scott doesn't really seem at home in the femme fatale role. Like Rita Hayworth in The Lady from Shanghai, Lizabeth Scott's character does a total about face and revealed as the villain. As Scott's Coral is so languidly femme, she barely seems to possess the energy to be fatale! There’s no variety Scott’s performance, in her character’s behavior or revealed motives. Her voice is indeed husky, like Lauren Bacall, but Scott seems to have a lisp or slur. Every time she says yes as “yesh,” I thought of Carol Channing. While Lizabeth Scott is certainly attractive, there's an odd look to her, particularly in profile. Unfortunately for her, Scott became instantly typecast in these noirs and it shortened her career. 

Love, noir style! Tears and throat clutching, between endless cigarettes,
with Humphrey Bogart and Lizabeth Scott, in 1947's "Dead Reckoning."

John Cromwell's direction is adult and with some style, but there's only so much he can do with this story. The film really pushes the after-war bit. Bogie's "Rip" uses lots of nicknames or pet phrases relating to his stint in the military. By the end of the movie, so does his gal Coral Chandler. Bogie’s Rip also goes from instantly mistrusting Scott's Coral to falling instantly in love with her, which goes back and forth several times. And Rip’s takes on life and love are an eye roll, even for the era.

Lizabeth Scott as femme fatale Coral Chandler, gets a glam death scene, in 1947's
 "Dead Reckoning."

The supporting cast is adequate, but they're mostly stereotypes, and none of them really stood out for me; in Bogart’s same year Dark Passage, there were a number of standout supporting actors. Like Dark Passage, Dead Reckoning is quite watchable, but not the least bit credible, even on film noir terms.

Bogie & Bacall team for a WB film noir with a different vibe than Dead Reckoning, in 1947’s Dark Passage:

https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2024/09/bogie-bacalls-chemistry-brings-depth-to.html

Despite the poster's tag line, Humphrey Bogart is the same Bogie from his other
film noirs. The difference is the husky-voiced blonde, Lizabeth Scott,
in 1947's "Dead Reckoning."

Bogie & Bacall's Chemistry Brings Depth to ‘Dark Passage’ 1947

 

Humphrey Bogart & Lauren Bacall in 1947's "Dark Passage," the duo's third film.

The 1947 WB film noir Dark Passage is highly entertaining, but the whirlwind story is filled with back to back coincidences and chatty supporting characters. The movie will leave you breathless but unbelieving at what has cartoonishly transpired.

Convict Vincent Parry (Bogart) is determined not to rot in San Quentin, and escapes to find the real killer of his wife. From the get go, Parry’s path is filled with the most convenient coincidences. The stacked deck plot specifically comes from nosy people who go way out of their way to aid or deter Bogie’s escapee. 

After escaping in the back of a prison truck, Parry is later picked up by a grinning goon, who gives him the third degree from the moment Parry gets in his car. It doesn’t help that Bogie's wearing only a sleeveless undershirt (he's no Gable), prison work pants, and muddy shoes. After the radio announcer conveniently reveals his identity and the tell-tale details, they tussle from the car and Bogie drags him into the roadside bushes. 

Bogie's convict has the misfortune of being picked up by this goon, in "Dark Passage."

After Bogie takes the driver’s clothes, who comes along but Lauren Bacall? As Irene Jansen, she's an artist who just happened to be out painting landscapes. Jansen just happened to hear about the escape, just happened to be driving by, and just happened to be a champion of Parry, when he was getting raked over the coals by the press during his murder trial. The "just happened" trope is a constant throughout this flick. As stylish and adult as Dark Passage plays, I rolled my eyes more than a few times at the blizzard of coincidences!

Look who happened to be out painting landscapes while a convict escapes?
Lauren Bacall finds Humphrey Bogart in the bushes in "Dark Passage."

Jansen smuggles Parry back to her stylish Deco apartment building (which still stands on San Francisco’s Montgomery Street). It turns out Irene’s interest in his case stems from her own father's murder trial of his wife. While Irene goes out for a new suit for Parry, her nosy friend Madge knocks on the door. Turns out that her testimony is what got Parry imprisoned—small world. Madge, a vision in leopard skin, pounds on the door but gives up, yet is suspicious. In one of several dumb moves, Parry raises the blind to look at her, and she stares back, twice!

All spiffed up courtesy of Irene, Parry decides to get plastic surgery, on a tip from a very gabby cab driver, who takes his cause for no good reason. Parry looks up an old buddy for post-surgery shelter, as he doesn't want to impose further on Irene. George, a musician, knew Parry’s wife, as well as Madge, who he despises. 

Off to the plastic surgeon, who likes to yak as much as the cab driver, and looks like he's been preserved in alcohol! The doc’s a guy who you wouldn't let give you a shave, much less slice your face. Once anesthetized, Parry has a drugged nightmare worthy of a William Castle thriller. Afterward, the doc gives him a list of detailed care instructions. The good news is that the surgeon reassures Bogie he can still drink and smoke.

Would you let this guy give you a shave, much less plastic surgery? "Dark Passage."

Bogie looks quite unflattering in his bandaged state, big woeful eyes, and thin face and lips—kind of like a Chihuahua, post-cosmetic surgery! Parry gets back to his pal's only to find he's been murdered, with the musician’s horn. Natch, Parry handles the instrument, leaves prints, and flees. 

Rumor has it that Jack Warner was unhappy that his top star was only heard the
first third of "Dark Passage," and looked like this for the middle of the film!

Not at all conspicuous climbing up multiple fights of steep stairs in San Francisco, he passes out when he reaches Irene's. Under her tender care, she is totally in love at this point, despite his being the suspect of murder #2. Their lovey-dovey convalescence is interrupted by an unexpected visit by Madge. She's panicked by Parry being on the loose (who's hiding in Irene's bedroom.) Madge shrilly insists that she stay with Irene, who couldn't be less delighted. Then here comes Bob, Irene's sort of boyfriend. Bob is played by Bruce Bennett in his typical glum style. He too was familiar with Parry's case and unfortunately, Madge.

Bogie's plastic surgery is such a success that he doesn't even have scars or puffiness when Bacall removes the bandages. It is stressed that the surgeon made Bogie look older, good thing since Bogie looked far older than his 47 years! It’s amusing that Parry’s “before” photos in the newspapers outweighs Bogie by about 30 pounds. That prison grub must have been grueling!

Beefy Vincent Parry, before he becomes the beef jerky that is Humphrey Bogart,
in  1947's "Dark Passage."

He no sooner stops at an all-night diner than a cop's suspicions is instantly raised. A chase ensues and Parry hides out at a hotel. Parry's first ride comes knocking, looking for a blackmail payday. Once again car buddies, they tussle once more, where scrawny Bogart dispatches the lunkhead off a steep cliff. That is now murder number #3, though Bogie claims innocence of the suspicious demises of his wife and friend.

Agnes Moorehead as Madge, the cougar dressed in leopard skin, in "Dark Passage." 

Parry goes back to Madge’s to get the truth out of her. With every minor character on their soap box, musing about life, truth, and happiness, there is little time for Agnes Moorehead's monstrous Madge. She appears briefly at Irene's door, then in the middle to barge in and act incredibly annoying, then in the finale, where she pulls out all the stops. As skillful as Agnes is at acting, this feels like a Carol Burnett spoof, rushing through to the climax. Madge falls through a window to her death, and Bogie flees the scene looking totally suspicious. In the finale, Bogie's Parry decides that it's hopeless to try to clear himself of four deaths—good call. So, it's off to Peru to livin’ life incognito!

Involved with four deaths, Bogie's fugitive is off to Peru, in 1947's "Dark Passage."

In a phone call to Bacall’s Irene, detailing how to find him, Bogie's Parry sounds like Morgan Freeman giving Tim Robbins prison-style GPS The Shawshank Redemption. Bogie sips a cocktail in a swanky nightclub, their song comes up, and there’s smiling Lauren Bacall, and the lovebirds dance off into the Peruvian sunset.

Lauren Bacall is more relaxed than in her earlier film outings. Remember, she made her film debut just three years earlier in To Have and Have Not. Here, Bacall is more a sympathetic character and not as snarky. I never thought Bacall had much versatility as an actress, but within that range, she was quite striking. 

Bacall is also quite lovely at just 23. Apparently a trust fund baby as well as Bogie's Baby, Irene paints and teaches children's art classes, which doesn't account for a lovely pad and stylish wardrobe. I liked that while Bacall was quite glam here, her face doesn't look like a mask and her beautiful hair isn't bleached to the nth degree like most Hollywood blondes. She looked real—and really beautiful.

I always found Lauren Bacall one of the more natural glamour girls of the 1940s.
Except for the winged eyebrows, Bacall's style is very contemporary.

I totally get Bogie's sexual appeal and while he looked rather frail and rough when not lavished with soft close-ups (those weren't given just to the ladies), his very expressive eyes, distinctive voice, and charisma made that very clear why 19-year-old Bacall fell for 25 years older Bogie in To Have and Have Not.

After a couple decades of hard living, Bogie began to settle down to a happy marriage
 with Lauren Bacall. At 47, Bogart required a toupee and soft lighting to disguise
his premature aging. From 1947's "Dark Passage."

A more candid shot of Humphrey Bogart, reading "Dark Passage."

Delmer Daves’ direction and writing try to tie up all the loose ends and contrivances, unlike Howard Hawks’ The Big Sleep. But it all feels like warp speed storytelling! Maybe some of those screenwriter-friendly supporting speeches should have been cut.

Bogie, Bacall, and director/screenwriter Delmer Daves look at some film footage.

Some film fans geek out over certain films' techniques and style. While that stuff is enjoyable, the story and the acting are what matter to me. Robert Montgomery’s Lady in the Lake is virtually unwatchable, with the actors overreacting and the constant camera movement over the top. Or Hitchcock’s Spellbound, because of the mostly-deleted Salvador Dali sequences, ignoring the hokey Hitch psychoanalysis. There’s also Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope, a technically handsome production, with its long takes and handsome set. Unfortunately, the stilted story and acting come off like a filmed ‘40s Broadway play. Of all these movies mentioned, Dark Passage pulls off Bogie’s pre-cosmetic surgery POV and post-surgery camera work the most subtly.

Dark Passage is really an exercise in style, with a strong production and cast. If only the film’s story was as authentic as its two iconic stars.

Here's Bogie with another sultry blonde from the same year, my look at Dead Reckoning, with Lizabeth Scott: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2024/10/bogie-lizabeth-scott-in-derivative-dead.html

 

Bogie and Baby, going in for the clinch, in 1947's "Dark Passage."