DESPERATE. RKO Radio Pictures, 1947. Steve Brodie, Audrey Long, Raymond Burr, Douglas Fowley, Jason Robards (Sr.). Directed by Anthony Mann.

   An early film noir, back before directors knew that that’s what they were filming, back when a low budget on a crime film was the impetus for creative lighting and innovative camera techniques, and not because they realized that they were creating a movie genre.

   I reviewed Anthony Mann’s The Great Flamarion (Republic, 1945) earlier this year, a movie considered by some to be in the noir genre, so Desperate is far from being the first that he directed in the category, but to me, both seem flawed. Neither seems to me to epitomize in their entireties what a noir film truly is (or was).

Poster

   But there are some moments in Desperate that, once seen, will always be remembered. When trucker Steve Randall (Steve Brodie) is being thoroughly beaten off camera in the hideout of gangster Walt Radak (Raymond Burr), someone bumps the overhead light fixture with a single light bulb in it, starting it to swing back and forth in the otherwise darkened room. The alternating light and shadowy darkness combines with the sounds of punches and groans off to the side in an epiphany of mind-cringing delight.

   Toward the end of the movie, as Radak has caught up with Randall again, as Radak’s brother is about to die in the electric chair, for which Radak blames Randall, the two men sit opposite each other across the kitchen table in a cheap apartment flat, Radak with a gun in his hand, Randall about to die at exactly the same moment as Radak’s brother — their eyes, their sweat — it is as if that moment will stay fixed in time forever, but it does not, as the clock ticks slowly onward.

Scene

   One could wish, then, and fervently so, that the overall story would hold together more cohesively than it does. Why Randall’s wish to escape Radak is clear. He’s an innocent joe caught up in a foiled warehouse robbery, but when Radak threatens his wife of four months (Audrey Long), he becomes irrational with his thoughts of saving her — but his actions, setting them both off on the run without telling the police, just don’t make sense. Randall doesn’t ever appear quite irrational enough, nor is he supposed to be. His wife Anne simply does as she’s told — questioning but always obeying — and yet she wouldn’t if he were.

   This was Raymond Burr’s second or third credited appearance, and as a moody almost insane criminal thug, which is what he often played in B-movies like these in the 1940s, his eyes seem to glower whenever he’s filled with anger or hatred. In this movie this is 95% of the time.

Burr

   One other problem this movie faces, however, is that Mr. and Mrs. Randall, no matter how dire their situation, when they’re together, it’s never quite dire enough. There is no question that they will survive, and in a noir film, that’s always a fatal flaw. But so that I can’t be accused of giving away an ending: I just lied, and they don’t.

   Here’s one connection with crime fiction in printed form that I didn’t know before now. Audrey Long’s film career, which began in 1942, ended in 1952 when she married Leslie Charteris, creator of the Saint. Their marriage lasted until 1993, when he died.