From Key Largo to The Big Clock, 1948 was a great year for film noir. That statement holds true in regards to two entries from Indicator’s Universal Noir #1 box set.
George Sherman’s Larceny
Despite having completed their last job by the skin of their teeth, Silky (Dan Duryea) and Rick (John Payne) are already on to the next – convince the people of Mission City to invest in a war memorial that will never see the light of day. Trouble is Rick is ready to go solo, while Silky (rightfully) suspects Rick of having an affair with his girlfriend, Tory (Shelley Winters).
Internal strife aside, the job is going well, with Rick posing as a war vet to get into the good graces of Deborah (Joan Caulfield), war widow and the city manager’s daughter. The most successful part of Payne’s performance is how little his face gives away when he’s lying. Sometimes as an audience member it’s easy to tell when a character’s being shifty (even if the characters onscreen are buying it) or there are musical cues that giveaway the whole shebang, but Larceny’s Rick can’t be rattled. That’s why, while the screenplay by Herbert F Margolis, Louis Morheim, and William Bowers moves at a steady pace, it might’ve been interesting if the film had tried a different narrative structure, where instead of tipping viewers off to the fact that Rick is a con man from the start, the film allowed viewers to try and guess whether Rick’s on the level. It would’ve made scenes like the one where Rick steals the concierge’s watch so he can give it back to him even more disquieting (Percy Helton plays the concierge)
As much as Payne’s taciturn performance is good for pulling one over on people, it’s not so good for portraying the emotional journey Rick is supposed to be going through, in terms of developing feelings for Deborah and/or starting to question the morality of his actions. Caulfield is also a weak link in the cast and makes for a forgettable love interest.
Bonus Features: The inclusion of a featurette on Duryea by author and critic, Nick Pinkerton, for this film (where he’s unfortunately not in it much) might be surprising, but there’s no point looking a gift horse in the mouth. There’s also a commentary by academic and curator, Eloise Ross, which looks at the ways Larceny diverges from and subscribes to noir tropes, as well as shows appreciation for the gowns Orry-Kelly designed for Caulfield. In the booklet there’s an essay by Jill Blake that provides some background on Payne, as well as an article that traces how Winter’s career rise was reported on in gossip columns.
Norman Foster’s Kiss the Blood Off My Hands
One punch. That’s all it takes to alter a person’s life forever. Angry at being asked to leave the bar at closing time, Bill responds with his fists and winds up killing a guy when he falls and hits his head.
And so, Kiss the Blood Off My Hands gets off to a running start (literally) when Bill finds himself on the run from the police and taking shelter in the apartment of unwilling accomplice, Jane (Joan Fontaine).
Like Caulfield’s character in Larceny, Jane is a war widow of sorts (her boyfriend was killed in the war) but that’s about where the similarities end. What’s cool about the way Jane is written (and Fontaine’s portrayal of her) is she’s not one to panic or ask permission, like when Jane wants to get the milk outside for her morning tea. Instead of assuming that Bill won’t let her leave, Jane tests the boundaries of her prison and doesn’t let fear control her actions. She’s also ready to cut ties with Bill before things start to move toward romance. Only in the movies do relationships that start out stalker-y turn out ok, but that’s a conversation for another day.
Other highlights of the film include Lancaster’s facial expressions (the fear and panic are palpable during the chase sequence) and the art direction by Bernard Herzbrun and Nathan Juran. Kiss the Blood Off My Hands was filmed on a soundstage and all of the sets are dressed to perfection, from the junkyard to the bits and bobs in Jane’s flat.
If there’s one thing I would change, it’s that Bill doesn’t learn from his mistakes (if you can call “murdering someone” a mistake), so instead of his temper being an isolated incident he continues to turn to violence. There are consequences for his actions, but he’s a lot less sympathetic as a result.
Bonus Features: The John Player Lecture with Joan Fontaine is an audio interview conducted by Martin Shawcross in 1978 where Fontaine discusses her career and erases any doubt of there being any love lost between her and her sister (actress, Olivia De Havilland). There’s also a non-fiction short film, “United Action Means Victory” (1934), and a commentary by film historian, Josh Nelson, which looks at PTSD and war veterans in noir (apparently the war angle wasn’t in the original novel). Finally, in the booklet there’s an essay by Karen Burroughs that takes on the controversy around the title and Fontaine not being a femme fatale, as well as an article that collects two interviews Lancaster did on his role as a producer.
Kiss the Blood Off My Hands and Larceny are available on Blu-Ray now as part of Indicator’s Universal Noir #1 box set. All of the Blu-Rays in the set are Region 2 only. You can read my thoughts on two of the other films included in the set below.
Abandoned (1949) was the strongest film in Kino Lorber’s Film Noir: The Dark Side of Cinema III box set. Indicator’s release includes a commentary by writers and film experts, Barry Forshaw and Kim Newman, as well as a short film by Abandoned director, Joseph M. Newman.
Vincent Price is terrific as the antagonist in The Web (1947). Indicator’s release includes a commentary by film historian, David Del Valle, a Q&A from 2018 with Price’s daughter, Victoria Price, Lux Radio Theatre’s radio adaptation of the film, and a short film featuring The Web‘s scene stealer, William Bendix.
Indicator’s Universal Noir #1 box set also includes Deported (1950) and Naked Alibi (1954). I haven’t seen either of them yet, but so far the set is 4 for 4.
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