FUGITIVES FOR A NIGHT. RKO Radio Pictures, 1938. Frank Albertson, Eleanor Lynn, Allan Lane, Bradley Page, Jonathan Hale, Russell Hicks, Paul Guilfoyle, Ward Bond. Screenplay: Dalton Trumbo, based on a story Richard Wormser. Director: Leslie Goodwin.

   Matt Ryan (Frank Albertson) is a would-be actor who ends up as a stooge for the studio [a “yes man” who does anything he’s asked], pushed around by studio head Maurice Tenwright (Russell Hicks) who assigns him first to arrogant heart throb John Nelson (Allan Lane), who wants out of his contract with Tenwright, then fading but charming and gentlemanly leading man Dennis Poole (Bradley Page), who Tenwright is using as weapon against Nelson.

   Poole is a real change from Nelson, he can’t even stand to use the term stooge when referring to Matt, but his star is rapidly blinking out, and his only real value is to be held over Nelson’s fat head as a threat since his last two films did terrible box office.

   Matt’s girl, publicist Ann Wray (Eleanor Lynn), has seen enough of Hollywood and just wants Matt to open a hamburger stand and get out of the dirty racket. Anything other than stay in the demeaning job as stooge — a menial and soul-numbing position as a punchline for everyone else’s joke.

   And she may be right. At an illegal casino in the desert where all the studio big wigs are gathered along with nasty gossip columnist Monks (Paul Guilfoyle), there is a police raid, and in the confusion Tenwright is shot and killed.

   Wry police Captain Jonathan Hale suspects Matt, who with help from Ann escapes into the desert night. Now wanted by the police for murder, Matt has to prove he didn’t kill Tenwright and reveal who really did.

   The suspects, along with the police Captain, gather at Poole’s house as Poole tries to stall them to give Matt a chance to escape, but Matt and Ann are headed right for Poole’s because they think they know the killer.

   There is nothing special here; this is a solid B movie with an attractive cast and capable direction, moving at a pace, but what’s notable is how much of Trumbo’s voice makes it onto the screen. The film is cynical, bitter, sardonic, and almost no one is decent or even likable.

   Tenwright is manipulative and backstabbing, Nelson arrogant and self absorbed, Monks a snarling coward, and for most of the film Matt all too willing to be everyone’s doorstep. Even Hale is star struck, vain, and full of himself, last seen in the film admiring himself in the mirror while quoting “all is vanity.”

   This is by no means film noir, but it is bitter, cynical, and fairly nasty in tone for a B programmer, and you have to imagine that was Trumbo’s doing.