Dark PassageWhen the deck is stacked against you, all you can do is break the rules to stay alive. Dark Passage is a noir thriller about an escaped convict named Vincent Parry (Humphrey Bogart), who gets help from unexpected people--like the lovely and wealthy artist, Irene Jansen (Lauren Bacall)--while trying to clear his name. To keep from getting picked up by the law, Vincent has the good fortune of crossing paths with a cabbie named Sam (Tom D'Andrea), who puts him in touch with an underground plastic surgeon named Dr. Walter Coley (Houseley Stevenson), who gives Vincent a new face; but will it be enough to keep him one step ahead of the law?
|
|
Although not the first film to do so, Dark Passage uses a predominance of point-of-view shots for the first half of the film to conceal the appearance of Vincent Parry from the audience (barring the occasional newspaper clipping that shows his "original" face). While hardly subtle, it's intention is to make it so that it (somehow) makes for a bigger impact when we finally get the big reveal of Vincent's new face, as he removes his bandages in the mirror. (Kind of like the delayed appearance of Orson Welles's Harry Lime in The Third Man, I presume.) Unfortunately, it's not as effective as I think director Delmer Daves hoped it would be; remember that Humphrey Bogart was the highest paid actor in Hollywood in 1947, so movie going audiences would likely know the sound of his face...er, voice, I mean. Even when Dark Passage briefly sets aside its point-of-view perspective, Vincent's face is totally concealed in shadow, to the point where it isn't even logical. (I mean, Sam can see his face in the cab while driving, but we can't, even though we're staring right at him?!) But all of this aside, the first person perspective does have the incidental (and more importantly, interesting) advantage of putting the audience inside the headspace of this escaped convict, from the first moment when he steps out of the empty barrel he hid within while escaping San Quentin. The opening scene, where he gets picked up by a passerby named Baker (Clifton Young), includes some clever details. Consider when Baker--who knows full well that Vincent has escaped from prison yet plays dumb a bit too much for his own good--stops his car en route to San Francisco. A road sign behind him shows two arrows: one points back the way they came and says "San Quentin" and the other, "San Francisco", where Vincent has asked to be taken. These little touches help establish the setting, as do the observations Baker makes about Vincent's attire. Vincent's narration fundamentally represents his inner monologue, reinforcing the idea that the audience is walking in the shoes of a potential killer, fully inhabiting that character while we are learning who he is from moment to moment. Quite a thrilling experience, especially for film audiences in 1947!
Like many film noirs of the era, Dark Passage is a mystery. For all intents and purposes, it isn't immediately clear at first that Vincent isn't his wife's killer. Irene certainly believes in his innocence, and puts herself in harm's way to protect him. And yet, the question remains for a good part of Dark Passage: did Vincent kill his wife, even if accidentally? There are some inconsistencies in the facts concerning who struck who with an ashtray, which was apparently the murder weapon. Vincent and Irene share the idea that he was framed by a woman named Madge (Agnes Moorehead), who apparently tried to seduce Vincent at one point, only to be spurned by the married man. Madge testified that Vincent's wife's last words were that he killed her, but one wonders just how or why a jury would have given this testimony any substantial credit. As it happens, there are an awful lot of coincidences and convenient details in Dark Passage that mark it as a fairly shallow mystery. Consider how Irene and Madge appear to be friends, albeit not too close of friends. And how Irene is now seeing a man named Bob (Bruce Bennett), who Madge used to date. When Irene comes to Vincent's rescue just outside of San Quentin--after he has to subdue Baker and steal his clothes--Irene plays it off as mere coincidence, and Vincent doesn't appear to recognize her at all. Later, he remembers that she was at his trial, and came to watch every day. (How do you forget a detail like that, man?!) Additionally, it should be suspicious that Irene is so close to people like Madge, a material witness to the crime. But for Dark Passage, this is, again, just another coincidence. Furthermore, when Baker shows up again, it turns out that he's been in San Quentin a couple of times himself. Why then would he be so coy about Vincent's prison issue pants at first? The reality is that Dark Passage is more concerned with disorienting its audience by way of its point-of-view perspective, hoping that audiences will gloss over some of these inconsistencies. When the final reveal comes as to who the killer really was, it feels like a default choice, devoid of any clues or meaningful deduction. This is because the movie cares little to explore some of the more intriguing details it dangles, counting on the suspense it has built up in its audience to carry it through. That said, the ending of Dark Passage is interestingly unorthodox for a film of this type. Many others like it have predictable conclusions, where the wrongfully accused hero is exonerated. Compare that with the end of this movie, and you have to wonder if--despite the climax of the film--the idea of "justice" means anything at all.
In Dark Passage, many characters are exceedingly suspicious of Vincent to the extreme. Take, for instance, a detective in a diner (Douglas Kennedy). At the complete opposite end of the diner, he overhears a slip by Vincent about horse races. Vincent tries to make small talk with the cook, yet it backfires, and the detective is on him like a toothless pitbull. He presses him with questions so aggressively that you'd think that he knew Vincent was the escaped con, despite his completely new face. This suspicion could be justified in Baker--considering that he is himself an ex-con--but that doesn't explain why he picked him up in the first place and then pretended that he didn't know Vincent had escaped. So Baker's suspicion seems artificial in retrospect. Then there is the problem of Madge, who arrives at Irene's apartment while she is away and Vincent is showering. Vincent unwisely reveals that there is another man in Irene's apartment when he tells her to "go away"...a man that isn't Bob. For someone who just broke out of prison, this is exceedingly stupid. And when Madge later happens to come by unannounced while Irene and Vincent are having coffee, she seems overly concerned not to be found when she learns that Bob will be coming by soon. The whole scenario seems deliberately orchestrated just to heighten tension, yet in an inorganic way. And, of course, the climactic fall near the end of the film; shocking, but not likely. Dark Passage does, however, manage to feature some of that wonderful Bogie and Bacall magic, made famous in The Big Sleep, albeit a bit muted in this film. Dark Passage must have been a very attractive idea to movie fans--especially those who loved these stars in their prior movies together. But of their films, it's not as effective, relying too much on gimmicky camera trickery at the expense of a coherent story, relegating it to more of a cinematic novelty than a true noir classic.
Recommended for: Fans of one of the more unorthodox film noirs of the Forties, as well as for fans of Bogie and Bacall to an extent. Dark Passage is one of those movies that people today would call "high concept", since it's clear what the idea of the movie was meant to be. It's just that when you compare some of its clunky cinematography with better films--say, Rope, for example--the artifice is revealed to be little more than a cheap distraction, like the rash of "found footage" movies some years back.
Like many film noirs of the era, Dark Passage is a mystery. For all intents and purposes, it isn't immediately clear at first that Vincent isn't his wife's killer. Irene certainly believes in his innocence, and puts herself in harm's way to protect him. And yet, the question remains for a good part of Dark Passage: did Vincent kill his wife, even if accidentally? There are some inconsistencies in the facts concerning who struck who with an ashtray, which was apparently the murder weapon. Vincent and Irene share the idea that he was framed by a woman named Madge (Agnes Moorehead), who apparently tried to seduce Vincent at one point, only to be spurned by the married man. Madge testified that Vincent's wife's last words were that he killed her, but one wonders just how or why a jury would have given this testimony any substantial credit. As it happens, there are an awful lot of coincidences and convenient details in Dark Passage that mark it as a fairly shallow mystery. Consider how Irene and Madge appear to be friends, albeit not too close of friends. And how Irene is now seeing a man named Bob (Bruce Bennett), who Madge used to date. When Irene comes to Vincent's rescue just outside of San Quentin--after he has to subdue Baker and steal his clothes--Irene plays it off as mere coincidence, and Vincent doesn't appear to recognize her at all. Later, he remembers that she was at his trial, and came to watch every day. (How do you forget a detail like that, man?!) Additionally, it should be suspicious that Irene is so close to people like Madge, a material witness to the crime. But for Dark Passage, this is, again, just another coincidence. Furthermore, when Baker shows up again, it turns out that he's been in San Quentin a couple of times himself. Why then would he be so coy about Vincent's prison issue pants at first? The reality is that Dark Passage is more concerned with disorienting its audience by way of its point-of-view perspective, hoping that audiences will gloss over some of these inconsistencies. When the final reveal comes as to who the killer really was, it feels like a default choice, devoid of any clues or meaningful deduction. This is because the movie cares little to explore some of the more intriguing details it dangles, counting on the suspense it has built up in its audience to carry it through. That said, the ending of Dark Passage is interestingly unorthodox for a film of this type. Many others like it have predictable conclusions, where the wrongfully accused hero is exonerated. Compare that with the end of this movie, and you have to wonder if--despite the climax of the film--the idea of "justice" means anything at all.
In Dark Passage, many characters are exceedingly suspicious of Vincent to the extreme. Take, for instance, a detective in a diner (Douglas Kennedy). At the complete opposite end of the diner, he overhears a slip by Vincent about horse races. Vincent tries to make small talk with the cook, yet it backfires, and the detective is on him like a toothless pitbull. He presses him with questions so aggressively that you'd think that he knew Vincent was the escaped con, despite his completely new face. This suspicion could be justified in Baker--considering that he is himself an ex-con--but that doesn't explain why he picked him up in the first place and then pretended that he didn't know Vincent had escaped. So Baker's suspicion seems artificial in retrospect. Then there is the problem of Madge, who arrives at Irene's apartment while she is away and Vincent is showering. Vincent unwisely reveals that there is another man in Irene's apartment when he tells her to "go away"...a man that isn't Bob. For someone who just broke out of prison, this is exceedingly stupid. And when Madge later happens to come by unannounced while Irene and Vincent are having coffee, she seems overly concerned not to be found when she learns that Bob will be coming by soon. The whole scenario seems deliberately orchestrated just to heighten tension, yet in an inorganic way. And, of course, the climactic fall near the end of the film; shocking, but not likely. Dark Passage does, however, manage to feature some of that wonderful Bogie and Bacall magic, made famous in The Big Sleep, albeit a bit muted in this film. Dark Passage must have been a very attractive idea to movie fans--especially those who loved these stars in their prior movies together. But of their films, it's not as effective, relying too much on gimmicky camera trickery at the expense of a coherent story, relegating it to more of a cinematic novelty than a true noir classic.
Recommended for: Fans of one of the more unorthodox film noirs of the Forties, as well as for fans of Bogie and Bacall to an extent. Dark Passage is one of those movies that people today would call "high concept", since it's clear what the idea of the movie was meant to be. It's just that when you compare some of its clunky cinematography with better films--say, Rope, for example--the artifice is revealed to be little more than a cheap distraction, like the rash of "found footage" movies some years back.