Harry Belafonte’s Bleak “Odds Against Tomorrow” 1959

 

Happy here, Harry Belafonte stars in the grim noir "Odds Against Tomorrow."

Odds Against Tomorrow has been called the last film noir by some, but for me, it's a fascinating character study, with a clear-eyed look at mid-century NYC.

Dave Burke, a bitter ex-cop, has a “surefire” plan to hold up a specific bank. He enlists two men who badly need the money. Johnny Ingram is a black musician and gambler who owes big time to some small-time gangsters. Earle Slater is an ex-con with a bad temper, and relies on his good-hearted girlfriend for dough. Two big problems: One, neither man has ever committed robbery. Second, Earle is an old-school racist and Johnny is a modern black man who doesn't kowtow to whitey. Need I say that this well-planned heist is doomed from the start?

An eerie moment when Robert Ryan's racist goes out of his way to grab the little black girl.

As well-done as the script is in leading to the bank robbery, the story of these two desperate men is what makes this movie compelling. Much has been written about this cult film, so I'll just refresh the basics: Odds Against Tomorrow would considered an indie film today. Shot on a modest budget, the talent involved wanted to work with hot young star Harry Belafonte, who also helped put this film together. That, plus respected director Robert Wise, who was just coming off of I Want To Live! The cast is an intriguing mix of veteran stars like Robert Ryan, Ed Begley, Shelley Winters, and Gloria Grahame, opposite Harry Belafonte, plus future name actors like Wayne Rogers, Richard Bright, Zohra Lampert, and Cicely Tyson, as the nightclub bartender. 

Right, Cicely Tyson is the amused bartender at the club where Belafonte's Johnny sings.

The movie is a moody snapshot of late '50s NYC, with director Wise using infrared film for some exterior scenes to give the city a bleak, cold look. This film is throwback to the economic storytelling from Wise’s early career, and one of the best, Dede Allen, was the film editor. The taut, no-nonsense script was by blacklisted screenwriter Abraham Polonsky, working under a pen name. The great jazz score is by John Lewis, which creates a melancholy mood. Unlike most studio movies at the time, life in the Big Apple isn't prettified for audiences here. One of the men in the park scene asks the cops why nobody goes to the park at night anymore. His answer is, those darn kids. The ex-cop lives in a grand old apartment building, which has seen better days. The gambler/musician lives the night life while his ex-wife is mingling with white folks over PTA luncheons. Racism isn't romanticized, either. In Earle’s first scene, he side steps into a group of kids playing, grabs a little black girl, and tells her to be careful, calling her a "pickaninny."

Gloria Grahame gives a quirky take on Ryan's oddball neighbor in "Odds Against Tomorrow."

Shelley Winters as Lorry, Ryan's sympathetic girlfriend, in "Odds Against Tomorrow."

The realistic acting and storytelling really are what’s riveting about Odds Against Tomorrow. Shelley Winters is truly unglamorous as Earle's long-suffering girlfriend, who can't help but mother hen him, which further infuriates him. Gloria Grahame is the neighbor who’s turned on by Earle's prison past. Gloria plays the role in a peculiar fashion, which seems like something out of Touch of Evil or Twin Peaks. Richard Bright, who became a popular character actor in the "New Hollywood," was just a baby here. As Coco, he’s of the gangsters who just happens to be gay, and loves to come on tauntingly to Johnny. Wayne Rogers makes a strong impression as a soldier who makes the mistake of picking a bar room fight with Earle. Zohra Lampert is the bar girl he's trying to impress. In the night club scene, Diana Sands and Cicely Tyson are uncredited but instantly recognizable as the hostess and bartender, observing Belafonte's drunken antics.

Richard Bright as Coco, who's just wild about Harry in "Odds Against Tomorrow."

What's great about Ed Begley's ex-cop, Harry Belafonte and Robert Ryan's ne’er-do-well cohorts, are that they aren't rationalized, but aren't demonized, either. Begley's former cop Dave is embittered at being sold out by his superiors, but seems like a decent man, in terms of his offer to the two men. Begley, who excelled at corrupt creeps, is most believable as a man who just wants his perceived due. Belafonte's musician is a player and a bad gambler, but Johnny is aware of his flaws as a man. Belafonte, who could be a bit stiff as an actor, luckily had charisma and good looks to spare. And Harry gives one of his best performances here. He's strong and intense, playing a John Garfield-like character. In the scenes where he's up against an ex-wife, mobsters, and a racist partner, he's convincingly desperate. The most difficult character is Earle, who has been in prison twice for assault, and is a walking time bomb. Luckily, the subtle script is in sure hands with the brilliant Robert Ryan. The actor was equally great playing heroes and villains, so here he captures the complicated racist loser. 

Infrared photography for "Odds Against Tomorrow" exteriors makes racist relic Earle look ghostly.

Odds Against Tomorrow is really more than a noir or a heist film. It's about two men trying to live in modern America. Belafonte's Johnny, though smart and proud, doesn't seem to fit in. His gambling life and fast living aren't getting him anywhere, and he resents seeing his wife mainstreamed into white society. Ryan's racist is most timely to today’s film viewers. Earle was a war hero, but is considered a middle-aged relic. The young soldier in the bar room reminds him that Earle was in the last war, his solving problems with his temper and fists have landed him in prison twice, and his knee jerk racism rankles those around him.

The finale bank robbery's a bust. Ed Begley gives great support in "Odds Against Tomorrow."

Odds Against Tomorrow is a good look at what makes a racist, the individual who feels the world has passed them by, and is looking for a scapegoat. In the film, Earle constantly looks to blame Johnny for any mistakes or missteps in their planned heist. Dave's ringleader more than once has to tell Earle to back off, but he just can't help himself, and ultimately his hate and distrust is responsible for the heist going awry. 

Some film fans find the ending of Odds Against Tomorrow a bit too clever. I can see their view, but the ultimate point is still the truth. When you're dead, it doesn't matter what color you are.

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Robert Ryan & Harry Belafonte relaxing on the set of "Odds Against Tomorrow."

 

 

‘Island in the Sun’ 1957

Only Dorothy Dandridge & Harry Belafonte rise above the soapy script of 'Island in the Sun.'

Island in the Sun, by British author Alec Waugh, made a huge splash, selling 900,000 copies in 1956. The novel mixed politics, race, and S-E-X. Former 20^th Century Fox head Darryl F. Zanuck, now the studio’s independent producer, envisioned Island as an international picture, with lush locations, torrid romance, and an unflinching look at interracial relations. Well, one out of three ain’t bad!

Darryl F. Zanuck's first independent production missed the mark depicting its subject matter.

The tensions between Island in the Sun’s characters stem from personal and power struggles over race in Santa Marta, a fictional Caribbean island. The Fleury family and their sugar plantation epitomize British power. David Boyeur is a black labor leader who wants to shake up the status quo and fight for the island people. Fleury scion Maxwell, an arrogant ne’er-do-well, decides to run against firebrand David for legislature. A news story reveals that the Fleurys have island blood mixed with their British blue blood. “I wanted to keep things as they were,” the Fleury father laments. This makes Maxwell even more insecure and his sister Jocelyn frets over her chances of marriage to the Governor’s son, Euan. Speaking of the Gov, his aide Denis Archer falls in love with black shop girl, Margot Seaton. Islander David is drawn to Brit aristocrat Mavis Norman. The consequences of all this, with added soap opera twists, causes the cast to drown in the ensuing suds.

'Island in the Sun' made a boatload of money in '57, but wasn't well-liked of by audiences or critics.

Zanuck thought that tough-minded director Robert Rossen was suitable to handle the racial/interracial themes. Either Zanuck or Fox copped out on that aspect. 20^th Century Fox was especially good at the Hollywood shell game, promising scandalous controversy, but delivering mildly salacious soap opera: Peyton Place, The Best of Everything, and Valley of the Dolls are prime examples. The resulting glossy soap opera wasn’t really Rossen’s greatest genre. He made his mark with gritty films, writing A Walk in the Sun, and writing/directing Body and Soul, All the King’s Men, and finally, The Hustler.

Sold as a sexy movie, the couples of Island in the Sun rarely get up close and personal. David and Mavis barely touch each other, Margot and Denis only hug, and Jocelyn (whose racial background is questioned) and Euan first kiss just 30 minutes before Island is over! Despite the pussyfooting around, Island deserves credit for the finale, when David and Mavis break up, and he admits it’s easier for Margot to marry a white man, than for him to be with a white woman.

As close to interracial romance as 'Island in the Sun' got, with a fervent hug from Dorothy!

Still, Island in the Sun received great pre-publicity and became one of the year’s biggest hits. The sun-kissed soap also got the kiss-off by critics, which is why it’s not well-remembered these days. While the look at race and island life is surprisingly direct, interracial romance is handled very demurely, which made Island instantly dated. Still, movies like Island in the Sun took the first baby steps. There have been so few interracial film romances since, which still makes Island a significant footnote in Hollywood history.

Dorothy Dandridge should have been at the peak of a movie career, not dead at 42.

Island in the Sun possessed a great cast of veteran and then up-and-coming stars: James Mason, Joan Fontaine, John Williams, Diana Wynyard, Michael Rennie, Patricia Owen, Stephen Boyd, Joan Collins, John Justin, Harry Belafonte, and Dorothy Dandridge. What really let this solid cast down, aside from the watered-down story, is the soggy script and dialogue.

Dorothy Dandridge's spirit and beauty was a breath of fresh air in 'Island in the Sun.'

Two exceptions are Harry Belafonte and Dorothy Dandridge. Their characters are no better written than the rest, but both have charisma to burn, and Dandridge in particular rises above the stale storytelling.

Dorothy Dandridge’s sweetly beautiful face belies her strong-willed personality. As Margot, she’s a shop girl who wants to better herself—shades of ‘30s Joan Crawford! Then Dorothy falls in love with the governor’s aide, routinely acted by British John Justin. Dandridge has that young Susan Hayward energy, all smart, snappy, and sparkling. Dorothy gets a hug from her white lover, though she demurely dodges a standard screen kiss, per censor cop out. She flies off with him at the movie’s end, just like a decade later, with Sidney Poitier and white fiancée Katherine Houghton in Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner? They kiss, though shown in a tax rear view mirror!

Harry Belafonte has a strong screen presence as David Fleury, the man of the people.

Harry Belafonte, as David Boyeur, is a naturally commanding presence. That he gets to sing the lovely theme song and a rousing “work” ballad with island fishermen is a bonus. Harry is best as the stubborn island labor leader, who wants to help his people, and is blunt regarding class structures. Belafonte’s David meets Joan Fontaine’s Mavis, a wealthy socialite who is kind but self-admittedly useless. Whatever draws these two to one another is ambiguous, so their romance goes nowhere.

However, Belafonte’s David gets in some pointed racial commentary that still rings true today. His labor leader candidate tells a reporter at a party: “One of the most important fights is against tradition. This island is shackled by tradition.”

After heated exchanges between Boyeur and plantation heir Maxwell Fleury, he tells David that his field hand father was treated well by the Fleurys, even when he was sick. Boyeur retorts, “That was charity, Mr. Fleury. What we want is equality.”

Stephen Boyd & Joan Collins don't kiss until the movie 3/4 over! Not the most sultry 'Island.'

Whereas Harry and Dorothy rise above the script, Joan Collins and Stephen Boyd barely stay afloat. Both are in the prime of their beauty and play their parts smoothly. And that’s the problem; they’re performing like graduates of a Hollywood charm school. For once, Joan wasn’t trying to play an American; here, she’s an English ingénue. Collins was in the middle of her Fox tenure and it was roles like this that buried her. Joan was not able to rise above the lackluster script, like other genuine movie stars. Stars that are born film actors connect with the camera, and are at home in front of the lens. Great stars can usually rise above bad scripts, dialogue, and uninspired directors. Joan Collins never could.

As an actor, Stephen Boyd shows off his best assets. 

Stephen Boyd is perfectly pleasant—mostly visually—as the son of the island governor who wants to marry Joan, no matter what her heritage. While relaxed and easygoing, Boyd is a dramatic void on the screen. Stephen Boyd never became a lasting leading man, despite the buildup, because he lacked real depth or charisma. Compare Boyd to Sean Connery, a Scotsman to his Irishman from the same era, and the difference is obvious.

This is about as close to sizzling romance as Joan Fontaine & Harry Belafonte get in 'Island.'

As for Joan Fontaine, what to say? I never thought Fontaine had much range—lots of limpid eyes, the raised eyebrow, and her ubiquitous small smile or smirk. Fontaine could perform well, in an extremely small range, whether as a repressed heroine or smooth villainess. However, her patrician manner is utilized well here and Fontaine seems fond, if not wild about Harry. A still-telling scene is when Mavis and David buy local children sodas and a white mother makes her little girl give the soda back. Of the racism, Fontaine’s Mavis says, “The children don’t seem to know about that, do they?” David responds pointedly, “Not yet.”

The only overt sex scene in 'Island' is when James Mason's Maxwell commits husbandly rape.

As Maxwell Fleury, James Mason has a field day as the drunken son from a wealthy family, much like Robert Stack’s character in Written on the Wind: Self-loathing, ineffectual, and abusive. Maxwell is the personification of white privilege, especially when things don’t go his way. When he announces to his parents that he plans to run for office against David Fleury, they are rightly not impressed. Maxwell has a hissy fit, capped with, “I’d been better off if I had been born black!” This is rejoined by a slap from his mother and his father offering him a drink. Talk about a dysfunctional dynasty.

Mason’s Maxwell is a drag in other ways, too. His fatal assault and subsequent guilt trip hijacks Island in the Sun from its more topical issues. Michael Rennie’s Hilary Carson comes to an abrupt end. Rennie, a solid actor, barely has time to introduce his character, when Maxwell causes his demise.

Joan Collins & James Mason play rich kids in 'Island,' despite a quarter of a century age difference!

This was veteran British actress Diana Wynard’s last film, and is used mostly for her class, as the wealthy Fleury matriarch with a few secrets. John Williams is on duty again as an inspector, out to solve the murder of Hilary. Patricia Owen is sympathetic as Mason’s extremely put-upon wife, Sylvia.

The location cinematography— in Grenada, Barbados, and Trinidad—by Freddie Young, is superb. Young made his name in Great Britain, then in the U.S. at MGM, and finally, Freddie freelanced to great acclaim, especially as David Lean’s favorite cinematographer. As a travelogue, Island is lovely, and the few romantic scenes are artfully framed.

Island in the Sun deserves credit for stating the unfair economic, political, and social system in the Caribbean. The film gets applause for Belafonte and Dandridge getting to play strong characters, without stereotype or condescension. Island is worth watching on several levels, but the film sadly missed an opportunity to portray interracial romance with any real honesty or passion.

Things were apparently more lively off-camera than on, regarding 'Island in the Sun!'

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