Note: September 21, 1957 was the date of the first episode of the classic Perry Mason TV series. To mark the happiest day in the history of television, paradoxically, this week we celebrate Raymond Burr’s performances in film noir before the role that made him immortal. Burr was a demon for work, appearing in more than 50 feature films between 1946 and 1957. He was typecast as the villain because his stoutness gave him a commanding menacing presence.
Raw Deal
1948 / 1:19
Tagline: “Bullets! Women! -- Can't Hold a Man Like This!”
[internet
archive]
“Would any dame wait three years for a guy to get out of prison,” incarcerated individual Dennis O’Keefe asks Marsha Hunt, a social worker who is convinced he has some good in him. She read once that when a teen he saved kids from drowning at risk to his own young life. He shrugs off her faith in his better angels, and tells her not to wear perfume the next time she visits lest he ruin his run of good behavior. O’Keefe is realistic but hard-hearted and not real smart.
Meanwhile, Raymond Burr, who crossed O’Keefe and landed him in state prison, works an escape plot so that O’Keefe will be killed during the sneak-out. Minion John Ireland sarcastically sticks it to cowardly Burr by saying he’s good at getting the cops to pull the trigger for him. Bully and sneak Burr doesn’t like that and warns in a cold voice that he’s saving up something special, really special for Ireland. Burr is lensed from an angle that that makes him look massive and imposing but he also has a doughiness that minions and movie-goers don’t feel a need to respect.
O’Keefe beats the odds insofar as he escapes the pen with the help of his old GF Claire Trevor. She, in fact, provides important insights in voice-overs such as “Waiting…waiting… All my life it seems as if I’ve been waiting for Joe.” This narrative is spiced with theremin music, which gives an other-worldly sense that is not always suitable for a gritty crime drama directed by film noir demigod Anthony Mann. In a couple of scenes the music from the late swing era comes from a radio, giving a carefree contrast to the dramatic situation.
But staying alive while breaking out of prison exhausts his fortune. Bad luck and the inability to plan dog O’Keefe and Trevor as they drive around and find places to hide out. Bad luck takes the form of car trouble. Then, bureaucracy, which reaches into every corner of modern life, represented by a lone horseman, demands camping permits. Luck also determines if cops are going to be more or less prone to cognitive distortions like jumping to conclusions, mental filters, over-generalizing, and inability to see the forest for the trees. The cops are brought down on our fugitives by the bad luck of a runaway killer in a crime of passion running to the same remote hide-out as O’Keefe and Trevor flee to.
The cinematography, beautifully shot by John Alton, features amazing shadows, shots from various angles and striking images like pale faces surrounded by darkness; the climax is of San Francisco in fog and crackling fire. Also attention-grabbing are the sounds of the modern world such as train whistles, sirens, bells, and foghorns. As for indirect social critique, O’Keefe is not terribly bright though he's brave and resourceful. He understands in a dim way that he would be happier if he just lived an honest life supported with modest ranch or small business. But he’s still angry that he had to hock the bravery medal he won at sixteen to buy food because he lives in a society where teens go hungry from food insecurity.
Besides the empty promise of a society whose youth go hungry, betrayal is all over this drama. Claire Trevor’s moll realizes that O’Keefe has never told her clearly that he loves her. He does not listen to her when he gets lost in his own thoughts. He doesn’t listen to her advice or ultimatums either. The many slaps to the face in the movie signal a moment of revelation to the characters that they have been lied to or betrayed or they have been kidding themselves. For instance, Claire Trevor slaps Marsha Hunt, who replies, “Thanks, I probably deserved that” when she realizes she’s been working under an illusion.
It is indeed hard to feel sympathy for O’Keefe or Trevor since they are ready to kill people to get out from under the cops and they kidnap the social worker Marsha Hunt. The social worker loses her illusions about O’Keefe when she sees how ready he is to kill the park ranger on horseback. She later remonstrates with him when he accuses her of living her life in fear, only seeking safety and security. She tells him that living life straight is what everybody does to get food on the table and maintain self-respect, that she doesn’t need safety so much as she thinks that she is living a life of decency. Ideas like “living an excellent life is the most important thing” are much more substantial than I was expecting from a noir crime drama.
All the acting here is plausible. Appearing in only three scenes as the mobster Rick, Raymond Burr dresses sharply in a pin-stripe suit but clothes don’t take away the cold remote look of a shark, especially in his eyes. Burr is shot from below to look very imposing, but his words, manner and actions are motivated by cowardice and wishful thinking. In a shocking scene famous among film noir buffs, he brings puerile acting-out to his sadism when he burns a waitress because he is angry at his minion John Ireland. Ireland is always persuasive as a heavy. He is later lambasted in the one of the three amazing fight scenes in this movie. The fog and fire of the climax with Burr’s deception is incredible. The crackles of the fire really pop.
This review grows long – I have only to finish by saying this gripping movie, directed by luminary Anthony Mann, is an example of perfect film noir, up there with The Maltese Falcon, Touch of Evil and Sorry Wrong Number. Keep an out for a keen 1948 Willys Jeep Station Wagon.
As for the connection to the classic Perry Mason TV series, Whit Bissel plays the killer on the run that brings legions of cops down on our runaways. Bissel was in four episodes, only once as an upstanding citizen. In one he was an embezzler and an office lecher-corporate spy in another, and in two he was the perp.
Please Murder Me (1956) [internet archive] [my review]
I Love Trouble (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Sleep My Love (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Ruthless (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Pitfall (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
Walk a Crooked Mile (1948) [internet archive] [my review]
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