This story of an FBI undercover agent (Mark Stevens) who infiltrates the gang headed by Alec Stiles (Richard Widmark) is introduced by a lengthy warning about how, unless the new gangsterism is stopped, three out of four of us will become its victims. This teletype message is signed simply "Hoover," meaning J. Edgar Hoover, President-for-Life of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Everybody knew who he was at the time. He was an anti-crime icon. This immediately raises the question, "Instead of signing it Hoover, why not just H"? After all, a simple "N" was good enough for Napoleon. A second question, not nearly so interesting, is how the hell Hoover knew that 75 percent of us would become victims of the new gangsterism? A third question, of no importance whatever, is what IS the new gangsterism? The film seems to tell us that it has something to do with organized criminals using modern methods of technology but history hasn't demonstrated the case.
Anyway, this is a pretty good combination of the kinds of docudramas popular in the later 1940s, usually directed by Henry Hathaway and narrated by the stentorian Reed Hadley, and the equally popular noir films of the time, all wet streets at night and corrupt cops and blond molls and the secret government undercover agent always nudging up against the possibility of being outed somehow. Still relevant when you come right down to it.
Loyd Nolan carries over his character of Inspector Briggs from "The House on 92nd Street." Ed Begley provides a red herring. Barbara Lawrence is 19 years old, slender, and beautiful as Widmark's wife. Widmark is sort of like his Tommy Udo character from "Kiss of Death," but more organized, less psychopathic, and without the wolf man hairpiece. John MacIntire is Steven's FBI contact in the seedy slums of "Center City." Mark Stevens is actually not too bad. His technique is a little stiff in the boxing ring, but it's Stevens, not a double, who's doing the dancing around. Stevens also does his own flying leap onto the deck of a departing ferry. This is unusual if for no other reason than that, had he twisted an ankle or broken a leg, it would have cost this mid-budget production a fortune. One thing that can be said about these kinds of films: they had great character actors, and they were good at what they did.
The crew were good as well. The photography here, by Joe McDonald, is outstanding, full of distorted shadows and phantom menace, and it's matched by the set dressing. Check out the basement of the gym, and the room where the armament is stashed. It looks positively USED, except maybe for the superfluity of cobwebs that reminds one of a Halloween display in a supermarket.
Most of the plot is as suspenseful as the ending is unbelievable. The thugs prop up the unconscious Stevens so that he can be riddled by the police who believe they are interrupting a burglary. But Stevens' body slides off the safe door and slumps to the floor. That's a pretty stupid way to prop up an unconscious man. Then too, why should the cops riddle the first thug they catch sight of at a break-in? Without a word of warning? And why, later, do they do the same thing to Widmark's character? No wonder they called it "Center City" instead of "Los Angeles" or "San Pedro." But, whatever it's called, the location shooting is just fine. The chief city street -- Main Street in downtown L.A. -- is really shabby. Stores sell old clothing and leather jackets. There are gymnasiums and penny arcades and hamburger joints and flop houses. Stevens rents a room in one of these joints and when he enters it for the first time and sees how dilapidated it is, he smiles -- because it's perfect cover for him. I vaguely remember some of the dialog from the first time I saw this. Corrupt cop on phone to Widmark, outing Stevens: "Do you know a fighter named George Manly?" Widmark: "Yeah." Cop: "You shouldn't." I remembered too the wordless, deliberate pursuit of Stevens by Widmark through the darkened gym, after Stevens has fired Widmark's Luger to get the slug. It's long, and it's utterly silent, except for a heavy bag in the gym, swinging a little and creaking slightly. Nice job.
Anyway, this is a pretty good combination of the kinds of docudramas popular in the later 1940s, usually directed by Henry Hathaway and narrated by the stentorian Reed Hadley, and the equally popular noir films of the time, all wet streets at night and corrupt cops and blond molls and the secret government undercover agent always nudging up against the possibility of being outed somehow. Still relevant when you come right down to it.
Loyd Nolan carries over his character of Inspector Briggs from "The House on 92nd Street." Ed Begley provides a red herring. Barbara Lawrence is 19 years old, slender, and beautiful as Widmark's wife. Widmark is sort of like his Tommy Udo character from "Kiss of Death," but more organized, less psychopathic, and without the wolf man hairpiece. John MacIntire is Steven's FBI contact in the seedy slums of "Center City." Mark Stevens is actually not too bad. His technique is a little stiff in the boxing ring, but it's Stevens, not a double, who's doing the dancing around. Stevens also does his own flying leap onto the deck of a departing ferry. This is unusual if for no other reason than that, had he twisted an ankle or broken a leg, it would have cost this mid-budget production a fortune. One thing that can be said about these kinds of films: they had great character actors, and they were good at what they did.
The crew were good as well. The photography here, by Joe McDonald, is outstanding, full of distorted shadows and phantom menace, and it's matched by the set dressing. Check out the basement of the gym, and the room where the armament is stashed. It looks positively USED, except maybe for the superfluity of cobwebs that reminds one of a Halloween display in a supermarket.
Most of the plot is as suspenseful as the ending is unbelievable. The thugs prop up the unconscious Stevens so that he can be riddled by the police who believe they are interrupting a burglary. But Stevens' body slides off the safe door and slumps to the floor. That's a pretty stupid way to prop up an unconscious man. Then too, why should the cops riddle the first thug they catch sight of at a break-in? Without a word of warning? And why, later, do they do the same thing to Widmark's character? No wonder they called it "Center City" instead of "Los Angeles" or "San Pedro." But, whatever it's called, the location shooting is just fine. The chief city street -- Main Street in downtown L.A. -- is really shabby. Stores sell old clothing and leather jackets. There are gymnasiums and penny arcades and hamburger joints and flop houses. Stevens rents a room in one of these joints and when he enters it for the first time and sees how dilapidated it is, he smiles -- because it's perfect cover for him. I vaguely remember some of the dialog from the first time I saw this. Corrupt cop on phone to Widmark, outing Stevens: "Do you know a fighter named George Manly?" Widmark: "Yeah." Cop: "You shouldn't." I remembered too the wordless, deliberate pursuit of Stevens by Widmark through the darkened gym, after Stevens has fired Widmark's Luger to get the slug. It's long, and it's utterly silent, except for a heavy bag in the gym, swinging a little and creaking slightly. Nice job.