Category: Jean Hagen

THE ASPHALT JUNGLE (1950)

by Miguel E. Rodriguez

DIRECTOR: John Huston
CAST: Sterling Hayden, Louis Calhern, Jean Hagen, James Whitmore, Sam Jaffe, Marilyn Monroe
MY RATING: 8/10
ROTTEN TOMATOMETER: 97% Fresh

PLOT: A major heist goes off as planned (almost), but then double crosses, bad luck, and solid police work cause everything to unravel.


On the Criterion Blu Ray of John Huston’s The Asphalt Jungle, noir historian Eddie Muller says you can draw a straight line from Jungle to the French heist film Rififi on through to the Tom Cruise Mission: Impossible franchise and Three Kings.  To that list I would add the crime films of David Mamet.  At the moment, I can’t think of another movie in Asphalt Jungle’s era in which the dialogue is so flat, menacing, and uncluttered.  The story is exciting without being flashy, the characters are sharply drawn, and the cinematography creates the underbelly of a city almost Blade Runner­-ish in its gloom.  Even the planned jewelry heist, while detailed, is almost like a Hitchcock MacGuffin: the heist itself hardly matters, only the results…like Reservoir Dogs.  Another descendant.

Doc Erwin Riedenschneider (Sam Jaffe) has just gotten out of prison.  After evading a police tail, he visits a local clip joint looking for help in putting together a heist he had worked on before he was imprisoned.  (I like how Doc and his colleagues rarely refer to “jail” or “prison”; it’s always “behind the walls.”)  He eventually enlists Gus, the wheel man (James Whitmore); Louis, the safecracker (Anthony Caruso); and Dix Handley, the muscle (Sterling Hayden, as shambling as ever, even in 1950).  Doc dismisses Handley as a hooligan.  “Violence is all they know, but they are, unfortunately, necessary.”  Throughout the film, Handley will do nothing to prove them wrong.

They need a bankroll for the heist, so the team goes to a crooked lawyer, Alonzo Emmerich (Louis Calhern), who agrees to their terms, but eventually reveals himself to be even more crooked than they are.  (Emmerich has a mistress, Angela, played by a young, gorgeous Marilyn Monroe in the role that made her a star.  She calls Alonzo “Uncle Lon” and steals every scene she’s in.  John Huston reportedly said Monroe was “one of the few actresses who could make an entrance by leaving the room.”)

The Asphalt Jungle is not so much about the heist as it is about the characters and their behaviors.  We watch how Dix Handley treats the one woman in his life, the appropriately named Doll (Jean Hagen).  She shows up on his doorstep the day after he’s released from a police lineup.  He grudgingly acknowledges her existence and allows her to crash at his place for a couple of nights, “but don’t you go getting any ideas, Doll.”  We see the money man, Emmerich, as he sweats about his planned double-cross, but still has to find the time to placate his bedridden wife.  There’s a great scene with Gus, the wheel man, who also owns a greasy spoon.  A rude cabbie takes cruel jabs at Gus’s hunched back, crippled gait, and scrawny pet cat; Gus reveals his true colors when he handily throws the cabby out of his restaurant while Dix looks on, amused.

Everyone gets their character-driven spotlight, even a crooked cop, Lt. Ditrich, who is assigned the task of finding Doc Riedenschneider, but when he does see him inside a clip joint, he simply turns around and walks away.  Later, Ditrich has a brutal scene with the weak-willed owner of the clip joint where he slaps him around several times to get him to spill his guts.  Watch the scene carefully, and it certainly looks as if Ditrich is really slapping this guy around.

Behavior is everything in this movie, not necessarily the plot.  Without giving too much away, behavior is what gets two characters killed, gets one arrested, drives another to suicide, and leads one to meet his fate in a horse pasture.  Nothing feels artificial or melodramatic.  There is an inevitability to what happens, a tragic undercurrent, that causes us to empathize with these hardened criminals.  These are not nice people.  But when one character unwisely stays seated in a diner when he really should have left, we are disappointed.  When one character’s lies to the police come back to haunt him, we shake our heads in resignation.  Their nature got the best of them.

Sterling Hayden is the headliner of The Asphalt Jungle, and he does get one or two scenes that are “juicier” than the rest, but this is a true ensemble piece.  It takes its time to make us familiar with each key player, with who they are, so we will understand why they do what they do at every turn.  That may seem like Storytelling 101, but you’d be surprised how many movies get that wrong.  Here’s one that gets it right in spades.

SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN

By Marc S. Sanders

Reader, I’ve been having a hard week.  My beloved puppy dog, Falcon, has not been feeling well and my family and I are so worried for him.  It’s just been a long week having to deal with reality.  Nevertheless, when I watch a classic musical like Singin’ In The Rain, it’s impossible not to smile and catch on to the energy that drives the film from the talents of Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor.  This trio are not just sensational dancers and singers.  They’re adoring comedians that set a standard for facial expressions and endless entertainment variety. 

A simple, but informative story sets the spine of the picture.  Talking films like Al Jolson’s The Jazz Singer are catching on in Hollywood movie houses and the silent pictures are quickly becoming archaic.  Established talents like Don Lockwood (Kelly) and Lina Lamont (a scene stealing Jean Hagen) are being threatened with becoming extinct unless they can adapt to the use of their voices in the romantic cinematic roles they are known for.  Don will adjust.  Lina is another story.  Her alluring blond bombshell looks are recognized everywhere.  However, none of that will line up with her natural, squeaky, ear piercing vocals.  She’s a hopeless case for the best vocal coaches that money can buy.  Don and Lina are star attractions with contracts to guarantee them work, but Lina’s voice could put the movie studio out of business. 

Fortunately, Don just happens to land smack dab into the passenger seat of Kathy Selden’s (Reynolds) car.  Kathy has the voice, and soon Don and his trusty songwriting companion and pal, Cosmo Brown (O’Connor), will realize the acting talent to boot.  In the meantime, though, Kathy’s voice will dub in for Lina’s on screen.  There are great gags at Lina’s expense as she tries to work with a microphone for the first time.  This is Lucille Ball material of the finest, comedic polish.

In between all these story developments reside some of the greatest musical song and dance numbers to ever grace a screen.  Few, if any, films have matched the rubber faced hyperactive quick steps of Donald O’Connor during his rendition of “Make ‘em Laugh!” What he does with this cutaway scene looks like a superpower of marvelous agility.  Jim Carrey could never stand next to Donald O’Connor.

Gene Kelly’s accompaniment with O’Connor and their silly, tongue twisting “Moses Supposes” is magnificent to watch.  You could be on your death bed, looking at this scene, and I truly believe you’ll think nothing is so bad in life while you watch this moment.  The pair are masters with their physicality of jumping on and off desks and chairs, while they toss around a stuffy, glass eyed linguist caught in the middle of their shenanigans.  Every prop and set piece are given functionality, be it a lamp shade, office supplies or stacks of paper.  Then there are the lyrics.  How do you so fluently utter words like “Moses” and “supposes” and every other imaginable piece of vocabulary that phonetically sound like them to seem like it is as natural as saying grace? And they do it all while bouncing all over the place with two stepping in perfect sync.  It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.  These guys are functioning on one motor.

To add further compliment, I must emphasize that the camera pointed at these magnificent players hardly ever cuts away.  There are long sequences where the guys are literally walking up walls and back flipping over.  It’s all done in one shot.  There’s only frequent edits away for a close up or another angle.  Otherwise, Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor are defying the impossible to show breathless choreography.  They seem to defy physics, and the props they use cooperate with every step, leap, run or jump taken.

The same goes for when Debbie Reynolds makes it a trio during another unforgettable number called “Good Morning.”  The furniture pieces are choregraphed to work with the three dancers.  All three race towards a sofa, step on to the seat cushions in unison and then walk onto the back of the sofa, allowing it to flawlessly tip over so they can continue their stride.  Just writing about this, I think about how amazing and wondrous this scene is.  Lightning in a bottle!

All of the material contained within Singin’ In The Rain is incredibly cheerful, full of color and humor and tremendously likable characters.  Yet, it does not ever teeter on being hokey or cheesy.  The musical doesn’t feel dated.  This film transcends generations like The Wizard Of Oz or Star Wars.  No matter the age, anyone should be able to like this movie. 

I love the irony of the number “Singin’ In The Rain” that lends to the title of the picture.  Just think about the word “rain.”  Often it is associated with gloominess and sorrow and mood.  However, the tempo of Singin’ In The Rain as a full length film invites happiness and glee no matter the situation.  Gene Kelly’s clownish activity with an umbrella, a large smile and a rain soaked street corner becomes one of the most delightful moments ever to grace a screen. He stomps, skips and splashes in the large puddles while taking a leap on to a streetlamp just to express all of Don Lockwood’s glorious bliss and adoration for his new love Kathy Selden.  A hat becomes its own character as gushing rain drains out of a storm pipe soaking Don’s head.  The brim of the hat seems to develop its own form of jubilation.

I’ve read that Gene Kelly was a viciously strict co-director (with Stanley Donen) and choreographer on this film.  Debbie Reynolds has testified to long sessions of endless starts and stops.  It was tortuous at times.  If just a toe or a hand was out of place in any of the choreography, Kelly would not stand for it.  It had to be perfect.  I can’t imagine Kelly in a demanding or authoritative capacity.  He is just so cheerful and lovable on screen and so is the entire company of performers.  I guess the contrast with his character lends to how impressed I am with the final product.  However, to make a picture like Singin’ In The Rain this exact and eye popping requires astute examination.  The assembled rhythm of the three dancers and the chorus behind them at least matches some of the most refined military assembly marches I’ve ever seen. 

Watch Singin’ In The Rain for a glimpse into the evolution of Hollywood and cinema.  Watch it for a simple, yet funny story.  Watch it for the characters and set pieces.  Most of all, watch Singin’ In The Rain to discover how grand and wonderful life can be.  It’s likely that none of my readers can do what Kelly, Reynolds or O’Connor accomplish in this film, but I can guarantee that you’ll feel just as joyous as they do while they are putting the show on for you.

Singin’ In The Rain is why movies are so important for our emotional lexicon of escapism.  It lends to good health to watch Singin’ In The Rain.  It’s a film we all need.

Singin’ In The Rain is a reason to live.