Tag Archives: Michael Gordon

THE WEB (Michael Gordon, 1947)

 

The last of the films in my UNIVERSAL NOIR #1 box-set, and it made me wonder what the selection process was: are they the best Universal had to offer? Are some choices mere padding?  Are some meant to be representative samples, rather than the best of? Are others illustration of genre outliers that help define the central corpus? Re-releasing these films on blu-ray gives them a new life so there’s something at stake in the choices.

Recounting plot:

I raise these questions because THE WEB is almost a quintessential programmer, a standard crime film in which a rich industrialist (Vincent Price) scams a million dollars, kills his associates and tries to frame his secretary (Ella Raines) and her soon to be boyfriend (Edmond O’Brien) for the murder, only to be foiled by a detective who’s much brighter than he looks (William Bendix). It’s got some snappy dialogue and an attractive, second-string cast, though only Vincent Price is given enough to shine with.

A shot:

Visually, there’s an attempt to bring some flair (a shot that begins with contrasting close-up of two pianists playing, then mirrored in a piano and descending onto the subjects in a night-club scene — see above) and there’s a lovely edit with the sound of a gunshot over-taken by a truck discharging pebbles but is otherwise undistinguished (see below).

A cut:

There’s not much suspense EITHER as a third of the way through, in a hypothetical, the villain gives away the plot (see first. clip at the very top). All that remains is to catch him with enough to indict. William Bendix, with what comes pretty close to a deux ex-machina, takes care of it. An enjoyable if unimpressive watch; and, of course, one does need a sense of the norm before discussing whatever is better or worse, so far from useless viewing.

José Arroyo

An Act of Murder (Michael Gordon, 1948)

An example of the fluidity of noir as a term. ACT OF MURDER is a domestic melodrama which would have been marketed as a ‘serious’ film on difficult moral and ethical issues: is mercy killing acceptable even if a dear one is terminal and in unbearable pain? Should intentions be a consideration when applying the law, by whom and to what extent? It’s the themes and the ‘seriousness’ of treatment that would have drawn in Fredric March and Florence Eldridge to star. They’d subsequently perform Arthur Miller’s adaptation of Ibsen’s THE ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE and O’Neill’s LONG DAY’S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT on Broadway in the 50s to great acclaim as one of America’s great couples of the theatres (the Lunts being the only rivals).

 

March plays Calvin Cooke, a judge who applies the law literally and harshly. His daughter (Geraldine Brooks) is about to be engaged to a lawyer (Edmond O’Brien) with a different, more liberal interpretation and understanding. Cooke’s convictions are put to the test when, after celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary, the wife he still loves is diagnosed with a terminal illness whose ending will be accompanied by horrifying pain, currently untreatable. When he sees the pain she’s in, he decides to put an end to further reoccurrences by crashing his car in the hopes of killing her and himself. She dies. He turns himself in with every expectation of having the law applied to himself as he has applied it to others. But his daughter’s fiancé steps in to offer an unsolicited and unwelcome defence that nonetheless saves his neck, and converts him to the point of view the film hopes to convince the audience of: that intentions and individual circumstances matter.

An absorbing, efficient melodrama that in the last twenty minutes develops into a court-room drama, very well-acted throughout but ultimately unconvincing. The famous Universal Courthouse set was built for this film. The gap between the film’s ambitions and its achievements can be seen in the funhouse sequence, clearly influenced by Welles’ A LADY FROM SHANGAHI but not a patch on it. Based on a novel by Ernst Lothar.