Although shot in 24 days for a measly $250K, this B-movie nonetheless got its director, Edward Dmytryk, a best picture nomination, and Robert Ryan and Gloria Grahame best supporting nominations. This movie has a reputation as a classic Noir (and we watched it on the Criterion Channel as part of the "Blackout Noir" collection), and Dmytryk is a name I keep seeing cropping up among lists of great Noir directors, so it's surprising that this was our first Dmytryk. And false, I discover, because we'd already seen his next film, which in England was called Obsession, and in the US the more prosaic, but descriptive, The Hidden Room, which is an excellent little number starring Robert Newton. It's also filmed in England with an English cast, which is why I was surprised to find out that Dmytryk directed it, but apparently it's because in the 2 years between the filming of Crossfire and Obsession, Dmytryk got into hot water with the House Unamerican Activities Committee (because he'd actually been a member of the Communist Party during the war) and was even briefly imprisoned, after which he pulled an Elia Kazan and Named Names, and that really tanked his career. Shame, because this film, while I wouldn't put it up there with Obsession, definitely looks gorgeous (certainly considering how quicky and cheaply it was made) with several very striking shots (usually involving Robert Ryan, the despicable bad guy), as well as having exactly the right values, albeit expressed a little preachily, which is forgivable, considering the time, but which almost certainly got him targeted.
I don't really know why it's thought of as a Noir, except that it's certainly filmed like one, with lots of stark lighting and long shadows
(it's not uncommon for us to see a character's shadow on the wall before we see them), but, although there are a couple of fairly tortured souls, there is a pretty clear divide between good and evil, and the good end happily, the bad unhappily (cue Miss Prism quote). Also, the main cop is the most decent of all the characters, and gets to deliver a speech about ethnic tolerance that MAGA could stand to hear today (because of course that's all that's needed to bring them round). I also don't know why it's called "Crossfire." One gets the impression with a lot of these B movies that the name and the film have different sources, perhaps there were a couple of people tasked with coming up with all the names, like those people who invent new drug names, presumably by drawing letters from a Scrabble bag.
Anyway: the film begins with a struggle in a darkened room, through which light is shot, but not enough for us to see any faces. A man is clearly beaten to death
and then his assailant drags another man out of the door of the room. It emerges that the man is an ex-soldier called Samuels who, it emerges, was Jewish. While the detective is on the scene a soldier tries to enter the room and says that he's coming back to look for another soldier. The present soldier is Robert Ryan's Montgomery, and he's looking for a soldier called Mitchell, who immediately becomes a suspect in the killing, even though Montgomery swears he's a good kid. The military police go to the room in a nearby hotel where Mitchell is staying (this confused me - why are soldiers staying in hotels? Apparently it's because they've been demobbed. But why are they still being ordered around, then? And why is only one of them, the doomed Floyd, out of uniform?). Mitchell is not at the card game that is happening in his room, but his roommate, Keeley, is. Keeley is played by the ever-laconic Robert Mitchum (gee but I thought she'd never ketch'em), whose voice is extra sing-song here (it might come as no surprised that he released a croony album). Completing the trilogy of Roberts
is Robert Young, who plays the thoroughly decent older detective Finlay, a little worn down by the iniquity of the world, but held together by his trusty pipe and herringbone suit.
We're never quite sure we're getting the full story, and there's a touch of the Rashomon in the telling of events from at least two different points of view, but basically Montgomery, Mitchell, Floyd and another soldier, the Tennessean Leroy are at a bar, and Leroy is jogged so that he spills beer on Samuels' lady friend. Montgomery makes a huge show of being solicitous, in the process so shaming and ridiculing Leroy that he leaves. Meanwhile Mitchell and Samuels get to talking and drift to a different part of the bar while Montgomery and Floyd exchange desultory conversation, and Montgomery eyes the other party with some ill-feeling. Mitchell, Samuels and Samuels' girl exit, and Montgomery and Floyd follow. Samuels is not that pleased to see Montgomery and Floyd arrive, especially as Mitchell, who appears to be completely hammered (this is why this was included under "Blackout Noirs"), staggers out, saying he's just getting some air and will shortly return. This supports Montgomery's claim when we first see him come back to look for Mitchell - he claims to have left shortly after Mitchell, before Mitchell had a chance to return. But Mitchell doesn't return, he wanders in something of a stupor until he stumbles into a bar where he meets Gloria Grahame's Ginny,
who is initially sulky and standoffish, but warms to him and even gives him her apartment key and says she'll meet him there when she gets off her job (which is to dance with the customers). Mitchell goes there, passes out, and is awoken by the weirdest character in the movie,
who is a man who first claims to be Ginny's husband, then says he's lying, he's just a customer, then later claims to be the husband again when talking to Finlay. We never do learn his real deal, which lends a realistic randomness to the whole affair. Anyway, Mitchell's army buddies, led by Keeley, try to keep him away from arrest until a better candidate for the murderer can be found. In the meantime, Floyd is in hiding, but calls Leroy, who alerts Keeley, who goes to visit Floyd to ask him what's what. This enrages Montgomery to an, shall we say, murderous extent. Anyway, it all leads up to a plan cooked up by Finlay and Keeley to entrap Montgomery with Leroy's help. Leroy really doesn't want to help (he's understandably terrified of Montgomery
(remember, Robert Ryan is about 6'5")) and has to be talked into it with the aforementioned lecture (Montgomery's motivation for killing Samuels turns out to be simple antisemitism). Oh, and meanwhile Mitchell's wife is in town and seems incredibly willing to forgive Mitchell for his almost-transgression with Ginny, even going with Finlay to try to get her to provide Mitchell with an alibi
(in the end it's Ginny's "husband" who does so). Mitchell is the closest to the tortured soul common in Noir, and Samuels was the guy who talked him out of it, by explaining that his problem is that the end of the war has robbed him of his purpose, if not the artistic talent that provided him with employment before the war. Well, let's just say that the closest the film comes to living up to its title is at the end, and antisemitism does not go unpunished.
As I said, a bit heavy-handed, but timely. I have found that Twelve Angry Men is surprisingly popular among the TikTok set, and this seems due for a similar revival, for similar reasons. Mitchum is a little wasted (no, not in the sense he used to get arrested for) in this film, but Ryan is effectively loathsome, and Grahame walks away with the film with her scenes. And I like Robert Young - he was a solid presence. I'd watch him as a detective in a series any time.
