I don’t generally review physical media (that is, Blu-rays) here, but this one, from VCI (who – full disclosure – distributed Blue Christmas) is a worthwhile exception. The movie I’m talking about is a fairly well-regarded noir that I’d never seen: Impact (1949), with Brian Donlevy (perhaps best-known for starring in Preston Sturges’ The Great McGinty (1940) and playing Quatermass in two mid-‘50s Hammer adaptations of the British TV serials).

What made me pop this disc into my Blu-ray player the very day said disc arrived, however, was the presence of the two female leads – Helen Walker and Ella Raines. Walker starred with Fred MacMurray in Murder, She Says (1945), that greatest of comedy noir, and had a memorable femme fatale role in the original Nightmare Alley (1947) (accept no substitutes). Raines was a noir favorite (Phantom Lady, 1944) and also a favorite leading lady of John Wayne’s (Tall in the Saddle, 1944). Both women were strikingly, somewhat unconventionally beautiful.

Helen Walker

Both actresses, despite varied careers, are probably most associated with their film noir work. Walker in particular played a number of femme fatales, while Raines was more often the “good girl” in the mix, and that’s the case in Impact.

And, in Impact, it’s the two women who make the most, well, impact. Donlevy is quite good, and his performance has more colors than was his usual practice – he’s made to go more places, and he goes there in an understated but typically powerful way. He was not usually the leading man, and even playing Quatermass, for example, comes across as a character actor. In any event, a man with a lot of walls that are difficult to look behind.

In Impact, he plays a rather ruthless leader in the automotive industry, casually running roughshod over his board of directors. But at home, in his insanely large and lavish apartment, he is a love-struck pushover to his beautiful, charming wife, Walker in a tricky role. What seems like a textbook happy marriage, if dominated by the female, soon reveals itself with Donlevy as the cuckold targeted by Walker for homicide.

I don’t want to ruin the many twists and turns – one of them involves the great Anna Mae Wong in her second-to-last big-screen performance – but structurally this is like nothing else in the noir (or any) catalogue. It was shot by iconic cinematographer Ernest Laszlo (Kiss Me Deadly, 1955). And it begins as a noir out of the Double Indemnity (1944) play book, if largely from the targeted victim’s POV, playing as a bigger-budget Detour for about the first third.

Then the second act finds a wandering Donlevy (after fate or maybe God gives him a pass on being a murder victim) winding up in what seems to be an Andy Hardy movie, minus manic Mickey Rooney. This is where Ella Raines comes in as a war widow running her late husband’s gas station. The whole mood is wholesome small-town after the harrowing noir first act, cross-cutting with the efforts of Walker back in the big city to dodge the Columbo-like efforts of an unlikely elderly police detective who is inexplicably the very British Charles Coburn (he refers to an impending retirement to justify all this).

Primarily, though act two is chiefly about good old-fashioned small-town American goodness, which redeems Donlevy, despite the Carville-like setting presented just short of cloyingly and with the shadow of big city nastiness hanging over all this normal niceness. There’s a level of Christianity under this section – traditional be-merciful, do-unto-your-neighbor-as-you would-have-them-do-to-you variety. Yup, this is the middle act of a film noir and it works.

Then there’s the third act, of what is an exceptionally long (almost two-hour) noir, where Donlevy does the right thing and comes forward back in Big Town to reveal he’s still alive and that his wife, now facing murder charges, didn’t get the job done. Somehow (beautiful plotting here) this lands him in the pokey facing a murder rap of his own. The third act is sort of a Columbo-tinged 1950s Perry Mason episode.

All this from journeyman director Arthur Lubin, best known for directing Abbott and Costello and Francis the Talking Mule!
It’s the damnedest thing I ever saw, and I loved it.

Here is a very good article on Ella Raines with an interview with her daughter.

Here is an in-depth look at the Hollywood rise and the tragic fall of Helen Walker.

I also watched the Criterion 4K release Winchester 73 (1950), one of the five great westerns James Stewart starred in that Anthony Mann directed. Mann would go on to be a specialist in grand-scale historical epics (The Fall of the Roman Empire, 1964) but came out of Poverty Row films noir, like T-Men (1947) and Raw Deal (1948). The latter films connect well with the noir-ish Stewart westerns.

Stewart is my favorite actor of his era, probably of any era. No one starred in more great films – and I mean great films – than Jimmy Stewart…from his Frank Capra classics to Philadelphia Story (1940), Harvey (1950), Rear Window (1954, Vertigo (1958), Anatomy of a Murder (1959), and The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (1962). Other gems were sprinkled here and there – Bell, Book and Candle (1958) a particular favorite of mine – but with the Anthony Mann-directed westerns a major part of Stewart’s incredible cinematic legacy.

No other actor has a list to rival James Stewart’s. He wasn’t always good – when the material was spotty, he could be hammy, as in the J. Edgar Hoover valentine, The FBI Story (1959) or if were miscast, as in The Spirit of St. Louis (1957), or was trying to elevate weak material (Thunder Bay, 1953, also Mann).

I mention all this because Winchester 73 is a revenge story, and Stewart displays his dark side, his eyes gleaming as he starts to strangle Dan Duryea. This is the side of Stewart first displayed in It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), the disturbing boiling over of his frustrations in the final quarter of that film. And it comes to a stunning head in Vertigo, which is my favorite film. Number two on my favorites list (right before Chinatown) is Kiss Me Deadly, which brings us to Mickey Spillane.
Are you surprised? Doesn’t almost everything I write about here come back around to Mickey?

Here’s why it does this time: Winchester 73, and several other Stewart/Mann westerns, are revenge tales, and most of the great post-war films among Stewart’s best depict a hero who is touched by madness and rage. The actor who came back changed, even damaged, from war service is not unlike the PTSD-ridden Mike Hammer of those five early Spillane novels. Or for that matter the WW 2 vets who made Spillane the best-selling post-war mystery writer.

Everybody talks about Spillane (when they talk about him at all these days) in terms of sex and violence; but it is the rage, the thirst for revenge, that really drives Mike Hammer in the first five novels, and that is the same engine in Winchester 73, Vertigo and other stellar Stewart (post-war) performances. Interestingly, with the possible exception of The Glenn Miller Story, most of Stewart’s positive salutes to America and the military are minor, even boring things – Thunder Bay, Strategic Air Command (1955), The FBI Story.

Even in Winchester 73, it’s clear Stewart is a (Civil) war veteran come home changed and traumatized. Circling back to Impact, Donlevy is likely a war veteran and his love interest lost her husband in the war. So many of these noirs, so many melodrama movies of the late forties into the early ‘60s, are impacted by the Second World War – the sacrifices and heroism but also the horrors.

I was born in 1948, and I grew up hearing – often in an indirect, undramatic, even nostalgic fashion – stories and indications of that war from my father and other male (and female) relatives. Gen Z has no memory of even this second-hand experience, and the Greatest Generation is mostly gone now – so why should we expect Gen Z to remember something they never experienced?

This brings me, inevitably, to my own work. We are a month away from the final Mike Hammer novel, Baby, It’s Murder, becoming available. You can order it from Amazon or Barnes & Noble or wherever you like to buy books right now. And True Noir, my ten-episode adaptation of the first Nate Heller novel, True Detective, directed by the fantastic Robert Meyer Burnett, is also available for order now (it’s in progress – the first five episodes are available and the rest will drop on a weekly basis).

So from Mike Hammer we go to Nate Heller, the detective of mine who is involved in real historical crimes and mysteries. Those of you (and this includes me) who were not alive in the early ‘30s can experience it through this immersive audio drama…and from my books, which cover most of the rest of the 20th Century.

I advise sampling some of Jimmy Stewart’s best movies, to any of you Gen Z saplings out there, as not a bad move.

M.A.C.