Pitfall (1948)
Posted: September 8th, 2007, 4:59 pm
"Take only good pictures and have only good dreams."
Dick Powell urges his frightened son to do the above when the boy awakens from a nightmare. If only Dick could've taken his own advice in director André De Toth's dark little crime caper, Pitfall (1948). Powell, entering his entertaining, edgier period in high gear after Murder, My Sweet (1944), Cornered (1945) and Johnny O'Clock (1947), here plays a peevish insurance investigator who is not quite living a life of quiet desperation, (he's too articulate and funny for that thanks to the film's author, Jay Dratler & the actor's own spin on salty dialogue).
More to the point, he's finding that the checklist cataloging the trappings of the American Dream may not be long enough for him.:
WIFE
Played by a wonderfully steely Jane Wyatt, who seems to understand the cold ways of the world better than the often childish characters around her.
CHILD
An apparently average and annoying boy who might sleep in his roller skates if they let him, though those pesky dreams he experiences make one wonder a bit how deep those shallow waters run.
JOB
At an Insurance Company, where Claims Investigator Powell thinks he knows the score of this predetermined career path, even as he shudders inwardly at his own sense that his life is apparently leading straight to a living death before the inevitable physical one. This realization makes Dick feel, well, claustrophobic, to say the least.
Powell even seems bored with the one person who must bring some tinge of sin and danger into his working life, a rather gamy private detective played by the underrated Raymond Burr during his pre-Perry Mason days. Burr often seemed engaged by film noir directors wanting to cast an actor who could imply, with only a glance or a shifting of his bulk, almost every base human fault. At the same time, there was always a tarnished and usually unhealthy longing in his characters that made them touching and repellent. I find my reactions to these types of characters all the more remarkable since, from the time that I first saw him as the only observer of the hapless Godzilla who understood the monster--and, of course as Perry Mason on tv--I thought he was a highly sympathetic actor. I wonder how Burr felt about this noir period of his career?
Powell gradually becomes rather thoughtlessly involved with a seemingly guileless semi-bad girl, played by Lizabeth Scott, who is--perhaps unwittingly--a receiver of stolen goods that Dick needs to recover for his company. It's one of Scott's most interesting roles since she seems rather nice, even vulnerable, though of course, she's also involved with a guy who showered her with the stolen worldly goods before he was sent away to the slammer. Dick Powell's character seems to find her appealing as much for her implicit promise of freedom from responsibility as for her blonde allure, which also attracts Burr at his most predatory.
Gradually, the order of the universe is restored, but jeepers, what a ride De Toth and his cohorts give us. The end is almost literally wrapped up in a big bow when Wyatt 'fesses up to Powell in their car that yeah, she sensed something was wrong, but just knew--somehow--that things would work out okay in the end. Hmmm, maybe the American Dream is just wishful thinking sometimes.
Hope that you will let me know how you liked this movie. Many thanks to Klondike for sharing this doozey with me. I loved every dark corner of this movie's wizened noir heart.
[youtube][/youtube]
Dick Powell urges his frightened son to do the above when the boy awakens from a nightmare. If only Dick could've taken his own advice in director André De Toth's dark little crime caper, Pitfall (1948). Powell, entering his entertaining, edgier period in high gear after Murder, My Sweet (1944), Cornered (1945) and Johnny O'Clock (1947), here plays a peevish insurance investigator who is not quite living a life of quiet desperation, (he's too articulate and funny for that thanks to the film's author, Jay Dratler & the actor's own spin on salty dialogue).
More to the point, he's finding that the checklist cataloging the trappings of the American Dream may not be long enough for him.:
WIFE
Played by a wonderfully steely Jane Wyatt, who seems to understand the cold ways of the world better than the often childish characters around her.
CHILD
An apparently average and annoying boy who might sleep in his roller skates if they let him, though those pesky dreams he experiences make one wonder a bit how deep those shallow waters run.
JOB
At an Insurance Company, where Claims Investigator Powell thinks he knows the score of this predetermined career path, even as he shudders inwardly at his own sense that his life is apparently leading straight to a living death before the inevitable physical one. This realization makes Dick feel, well, claustrophobic, to say the least.
Powell even seems bored with the one person who must bring some tinge of sin and danger into his working life, a rather gamy private detective played by the underrated Raymond Burr during his pre-Perry Mason days. Burr often seemed engaged by film noir directors wanting to cast an actor who could imply, with only a glance or a shifting of his bulk, almost every base human fault. At the same time, there was always a tarnished and usually unhealthy longing in his characters that made them touching and repellent. I find my reactions to these types of characters all the more remarkable since, from the time that I first saw him as the only observer of the hapless Godzilla who understood the monster--and, of course as Perry Mason on tv--I thought he was a highly sympathetic actor. I wonder how Burr felt about this noir period of his career?
Powell gradually becomes rather thoughtlessly involved with a seemingly guileless semi-bad girl, played by Lizabeth Scott, who is--perhaps unwittingly--a receiver of stolen goods that Dick needs to recover for his company. It's one of Scott's most interesting roles since she seems rather nice, even vulnerable, though of course, she's also involved with a guy who showered her with the stolen worldly goods before he was sent away to the slammer. Dick Powell's character seems to find her appealing as much for her implicit promise of freedom from responsibility as for her blonde allure, which also attracts Burr at his most predatory.
Gradually, the order of the universe is restored, but jeepers, what a ride De Toth and his cohorts give us. The end is almost literally wrapped up in a big bow when Wyatt 'fesses up to Powell in their car that yeah, she sensed something was wrong, but just knew--somehow--that things would work out okay in the end. Hmmm, maybe the American Dream is just wishful thinking sometimes.
Hope that you will let me know how you liked this movie. Many thanks to Klondike for sharing this doozey with me. I loved every dark corner of this movie's wizened noir heart.
[youtube][/youtube]