Out of the Blue and into the Black

The Blue Dahlia: written by Raymond Chandler; directed by George Marshall; starring Alan Ladd (Johnny Morrison), Veronica Lake (Joyce Harwood), William Bendix (Buzz), Howard Da Silva (Eddie Harwood), Doris Dowling (Helen Morrison), and Hugh Beaumont (George) (1946): A rare case of hardboiled detective great Raymond Chandler writing a new story expressly for the screen, The Blue Dahlia also shares a history with one of the most infamous Hollywood murder cases of all time.

Eight months after the film's release, the mutilated body of an aspiring actress named Elizabeth Short was discovered. Her nickname was 'the Black Dahlia,' and forever after the movie and the still-unsolved case would be mentioned whenever the other was mentioned.

The movie involves the efforts of now-retired bomber pilot Alan Ladd's Johnny Morrison, just home from the Pacific theatre,  to discover the identity of his wife's murderer. And he'd better. He's on the run from the "coppers" because he's the prime suspect.

Ladd looks and acts polished and sharp throughout, though his character can also be stubborn and hot-headed at times. Given that he's returned home to find an unfaithful wife and a son killed as a result of her drunk driving, and within 12 hours she's been murdered...well, that can wear on a man. Especially when he flew 112 successful bombing missions. Screw those lightweights and their 50-mission caps.

The narrative twists and turns, to the extent that even though I'd seen the movie twenty years ago, I couldn't remember who the killer was. Veronica Lake is beautiful and cool, as is Ladd, and William Bendix is believable as a wounded, shell-shocked comrade of Morrison's who really hates big-band music and flowers. Apparently, Veterans' Affairs wasn't any better after WWII at looking after the wounded than it is now.

Some casual gunplay in somewhat unlikely locations will probably raise a laugh or two, as may Morrison's amazingly hard head. He's the Bruce Campbell of 1946. The direction is workmanlike, the script sparkling with tough/sentimental dialogue and weird little bits, including a scene involving a hood with a broken leg that seems like the Ur-Moment for all those scenes of talkative criminals in Quentin Tarantino movies. Recommended.

At the Ends of the West

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid: written by William Goldman; directed by George Roy Hill; starring Robert Redford (The Sundance Kid), Paul Newman (Butch Cassidy), and Katharine Ross (Etta Place) (1969): Pitch-perfect Western dramedy gives us terrific, charismatic performances from Redford and Newman and lovely supporting work from the under-rated Katharine Ross. The musical interlude set to "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" doesn't seem so weird now that every film and TV show sets at least one scene to a pop song.

A distinguished member of a long line of Westerns that are also requiems for the Western, with this one set at about the same time as the dark and apocalyptic The Wild Bunch. William Goldman's script and George Roy Hill's direction keep everything zipping along merrily, even in the direst moments. The cleverest stylistic touch is the use of both period and fake-period photography and footage as chapter markers in the story. Highly recommended.


Shane: adapted by A.B. Guthrie Jr. and Jack Sher from the novel by Jack Schaefer; directed by George Stevens; starring Alan Ladd (Shane), Jean Arthur (Marian Starrett), Van Heflin (Joe Starrett), Brandon de Wilde (Joey Starrett), Jack Palance (Jack Wilson), and Ben Johnson (Chris Calloway) (1953): George Steven's elegy to the end of Western expansion, and the attendant end of gunslingers and open ranching, holds up pretty well: the things that might annoy us now also annoyed Francois Truffaut when it came out. Stevens loves having animal behaviour comment on the human proceedings, a love that sometimes borders on unintentional comedy. Well, he did cut his directorial teeth on Laurel and Hardy!

The other flaw, the annoying Brandon de Wilde as Joey Starrett, the boy who idolizes Alan Ladd's melancholy gunslinger Shane, sometimes make one long for a CGI-corrected version of the film with someone less strident as the boy. So it goes. The adults are all great, from Ladd's noble gunslinger to Van Heflin's naturalistically played farmer and Jean Arthur's hopeful wife to Van heflin, all the way to the grimy land baron and his ruthless mob and, at the end of it all, Jack Palance as the menancing hired gun brought in to drive the farmers off land the rancher wants for grazing. Looming above all the action are the majestic Grand Tetons, setting the affairs of humans against the Sublime and indifferent arc of geological time. Recommended.