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."

 

Jeanne Crain as ‘Pinky’ 1949

 

Jeanne Crain and Ethel Waters star in 1949's then controversial race drama, "Pinky."

Jeanne Crain as "Pinky," who "passed" up north, but feels the boundaries of race
 more overtly back home in this racial drama.

I watched 1949’s Pinky for the first time recently and was surprised at how strong the race drama still played, nearly 75 years later. This was 20th Century Fox and Elia Kazan's follow up to the socially conscious Gentleman's Agreement.

I avoided this movie for years because the notion of Jeanne Crain passing for white as Pinky seemed absurd. Crain always struck me as the ultimate white bread actress. There was talk of fellow Fox star Linda Darnell as Pinky—this I could actually see. With her exotic features, and very dark eyes and hair, you could believe Darnell as passing for white. Pinky's character was a hard case, and Linda's later roles tapped into her tough side. But Fox honcho Darryl F. Zanuck didn’t like Darnell and wanted Jeanne Crain, much to director Elia Kazan's disappointment.

Among the 20th Century Fox stars, Linda Darnell
might have made a good "Pinky."

Dorothy Dandridge around '49. A possible "Pinky?"

Some people have said that Lena Horne or Dorothy Dandridge should have played Pinky. Could either actress have passed for white with movie audiences back in ‘49? Perhaps, but it’s debatable. There were other considerations, too. Lena was over 30 when Pinky was made, and the title character was fresh out of nursing school. Dorothy had only done episodic bit parts at this point—but Dandridge’s unknown status might have worked. Sadly, in some states there might have been an issue with a black actress in love scenes with a white actor. Unlike Julie in 1953’s Showboat, a role Lena Horne wanted, Pinky’s passing for white wasn’t a surprise. Still, the actress cast as Pinky had to convince audiences that she could “pass.” Would that have been the case if Horne, Hollywood’s lone black movie star, had been cast? It can be argued both ways forever.

Lena Horne in '49, who was interested in playing "Pinky."
She was in her early '30s, older than the others mentioned, and at another studio.

This all makes me think of Fredi Washington, who won acclaim for the 1934 version of Imitation of Life. She played Louise Beavers daughter Peola, who passes for white. In real life, Fredi refused to pass, even though she easily could have. Washington was proud of her ethnic background, but it cost Fredi a film career.

Fredi Washington, a mixed race actress who played a girl passing for white,
in the original "Imitation of Life," 15 years earlier than "Pinky."

I was surprised how straightforward the film and Jeanne Crain were in telling Pinky’s story. Though filmed on the Fox lot, the movie feels realistic. When Pinky returns from the north as a nursing school graduate, her southern home on the black side of town is not quaintly rustic, just ramshackle. Jeanne Crain doesn’t play movie “unglamorous,” like stars that cheated when they were “serious.” Crain's Pinky wears appropriate clothes, a pulled-back hairdo, and very simple makeup. Jeanne's acting is direct and straightforward, with no winks to the audience that she's just acting. Crain's character is defensive and ambivalent about coming back home at all. As Pinky can easily pass for white, it would be much easier for her to cheat and stay up North. But the headstrong nurse doesn't retreat. 

Jeanne Crain's "Pinky" is glad to see Ethel Waters' Grandma Dicey,
but ambivalent about being back down South.

Elia Kazan wanted to make the film down south and felt that filming on the back lot lacked grit. Well, of course he's right about the authentic heat, dirt, and impoverished locales. But 1967's In the Heat of the Night was mostly made in Sparta, Illinois NOT Sparta, Mississippi, because Hollywood didn't dare go to southern locations with a black star in a race picture. How would Kazan have made Pinky down south back in 1949, with a black star like Dandridge or Horne?

A toned down Jeanne Crain as "Pinky," pondering the poverty her Grandma Dicey
lives in, with her employer Miss Em's mansion looms in the background.

Kazan took over for crusty John Ford on a weekend’s notice. The story’s power is certainly in Kazan’s style as a director. Looking back, Kazan chose to disrespect screenwriters Dudley Nichols and Phillip Dunne, who weren't exactly hacks. And I'm sure Kazan worked hard to encourage Jeanne Crain, but his quotes make it sound like he cajoled a performance out of a non-actress. That annoys me because it’s a director's oldest ego trip. Peter Bogdanovich later said the same about Cher in Mask. Both actresses worked with other talented directors and did very well, thank you. While Crain may not be ideally cast, you feel the jolt when other characters find out she's black. Jeanne does not play her character “nice,” so her detractors in the movie find her uppity. I thought she played her character straight up and intelligently. There's plenty of evidence in Hollywood’s history that you can't get a great performance from a no-talent actor. Crain was just 24 when she played Pinky, actually close to the character’s age. In real life, she had just had a baby two weeks prior to shooting, so this film wasn’t a cakewalk for Crain.

"Pinky" gets a refresher as what it's like to be black in her hometown, as part of a
 police pick up over a money altercation. The look on Nina Mae McKinney, as the
local woman at left, like she's seen it all before.

Cid Ricketts Sumner’s source novel for Pinky was titled Quality. Sumner wrote another book, Tammy out of Time, which became the basis for the extremely popular Tammy series of movies and TV. What was viewed as a cop out in Pinky, aside from casting a white actress, was the more upbeat ending. In the film, Pinky turns Miss Em’s mansion into a black nursing school. In the book, Pinky does inherit the property, but local KKK retaliate by burning down the house. That grim thought actually crossed my mind when watching this, as that’s probably what would have happened in real life. It’s disappointing but understandable that the studio wanted uplift, after presenting a strong film on racial intolerance. It was still a step forward to have the mixed race character turn down a marriage proposal that required her to pass for white—no romantic ending.

One look from Ethel Waters as Grandma Dicey speaks volumes, from 1949's "Pinky."

Pinky’s supporting cast is terrific. Crain has two great Ethels to work with. Ethel Waters as grandma Dicey is warm and empathetic, but in regard to Pinky’s past about passing, Dicey is very plain-spoken. While Waters’ Aunt Dicey is respected in the community, she's still patronized by whites at the trial. Ethel Waters’ strength often shows in her stone cold silence. Ethel Barrymore, while cast in her usual grande dame screen persona, still gives the character more of an edge than usual, in this unsentimental portrayal.

"Pinky" nurses Miss Em in her final days, at Grandma Dicey's request.
The two strong-willed women forge a bond after butting heads. 

As Miss Em’s cousin Melba Wooley, Evelyn Varden strongly portrays what feels like a relative of Sister Woman in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof! Melba is not only racist, but she also reeks of mendacity, as Cat’s Big Daddy would bellow. For people that feel Wooley is one-dimensional, try watching some YouTube videos of modern day racists in action. Not much has changed in their self-righteous ignorance. Evelyn Varden later played another memorably named character, Monica Breedlove, the upstairs neighbor in 1956’s The Bad Seed.

"Pinky" bristles at meeting Miss Em's racist cousin by marriage, Melba Wooley.
Crain is quite good in these scenes with Evelyn Varden, who's a hissable villain.

Remember that Pinky was made nearly three quarters of a century ago and not to judge it by today’s standards. It was one of the first pictures to deal with race as a main plot, not to mention the complexity of passing. For 1949 audiences, accepting Pinky as film fare was a first step. Indeed, Pinky was 20^th Century Fox’s highest-grossing drama of the year.

Nearly a decade later, 20th Century Fox made an interracial drama, Island in the Sun. Frankly, Pinky is more powerful! Here's my look at "Island" here: 

https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2020/07/island-in-sun-1957.html

"Pinky" was shown with this disclaimer back in 1949.

As Jeanne Crain's "Pinky" tells her white fiancee that she is black, passing for white,
 William Lundigan steps forward, creating a dark shadow over her entire face.
 Intentional or coincidence?