I’m guessing that if someone else besides Mark Stevens
played the detective in “The Dark Corner” (1946) it would be better known
today. Nothing against Stevens, who is fine but comes off a bit bland. Cast
someone with an interesting face like Dana Andrews or Richard Conte in the
role, and you would have a noir for the ages.
Stevens isn’t a total demerit however, and what we have is really
nifty little noir, filled with enough colorful characters, gloriously moody
black and white photography and on-location shooting to make it a prime entry
in the post-war noir sweepstakes.
Stevens plays Bradford Galt (a terrible name for a
detective, don’t you think?), who years before had taken the rap for his former
partner Anthony Jardine (Kurt Kreuger). Jardine is now a big-time lawyer
carrying on an affair with Mari Cathcart (Cathy Downs), younger wife of Hardy
Cathcart (now that’s a name!), the city’s most prestigious art dealer.
Cathcart is played by Clifton Webb, who I will happily watch
in anything. It was first role after his star-making turn in “Laura” (1944) and
his Hardy Cathcart possesses as keen a wit as Waldo Lydecker, if not as barbed.
Waldo had to bow to no one, but Hardy has to make nice to his customers. But
he’s still the magnificently superior Clifton Webb we all know and love. Some
people have said how it was an honor to have been insulted by Groucho Marx. Me,
I would have liked to have been sneered at by Clifton Webb.
It looks like Jardine is looking to ensnare his old partner
in another web of murder and deceit, with the help of Stauffer (William
Bendix), an ex-detective with a penchant for white suits. Galt has a loyal
secretary Kathleen (Lucille Ball) who helps clear him of a murder charge.
I’ll admit to not seeing all of Lucy’s movies, but I’ve
never seen her as warm as she is here. She’s not the manic Lucy we all know,
but a quiet, working girl possessing lots of street smarts. Her honest working
girl character stands in strong contrast to all the upper class duplicitous
characters here.
Galt also keeps a bottle of booze which he keeps in his
bottom desk drawer, which is one of my favorite staples of detective fiction. I
had a grin a mile wide when he pulled out that bottle. All detectives should
have a bottle of rye in their desk drawer. I’ve thought about becoming a
detective just so I can keep a bottle of rye in my bottom desk drawer, and I
don’t even drink.
Director Henry Hathaway rarely made a film that I haven’t liked.
He may not be a critic’s favorite – not enough of an “auteur” - but his films
move with nary a wasted scene. His films are always so unfussy, and I mean that
in the best way possible. Hathaway had scored a monster hit the year before
with “The House on 92nd Street”, a semi-documentary film, based on a
true story about how the FBI cracked a nest of Nazi spies in the early years of
World War II.
“The House on 92nd
Street” was celebrated for its use of on-location
shooting, a rarity at the time, and in “The Dark Corner” Hathaway and his
camera crew returned to the Big Apple’s streets for some fascinating
on-location photography, even a car chase through the busy downtown streets.
I’m not talking “The French Connection” here, but pretty good all the same.
I don’t want to talk too much about the plot, because there
are some intriguing twists to be had here. Without giving anything away, what I
liked about this movie is how tight the script is. So many mystery movies feel
there has to be a never-ending series of twists and revelations that sometimes
the story’s main focus gets lost. Here, everything happens for a reason and
makes sense. It’s not contrived and one can see how the events could happen as
they are playing out.
A good script, taut direction, moody photography, a fine
cast and the always watchable Clifton Webb make “The Dark Corner” a real
winner.