Showing posts with label James Cagney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label James Cagney. Show all posts

Sunday, July 05, 2009

PERSONAL FAVES: White Heat

Again: SPOILERS. All over the shop.

Whoa! Did I say 'Angels with Dirty Faces' was eventful? That goes double for 'White Heat'!

Before we even get to plot synopsis, here's a checklist of set-pieces: train robbery; attempted police sting, escape and pursuit; undercover cop infiltrating gang; mobster's henchman plotting a take-over with the help of his boss's turncoat moll; prison break; wages heist. There are any number of crime films that have built around just one of these big dramatic conceits. 'White Heat' gives you half a dozen in one movie.

With no preamble or exposition, director Raoul Walsh opens with a clinically professional train robbery. Clinically professional, that is, except for the novice hood who blurts out gang boss Cody Jarrett (James Cagney)'s name in front of the cowering-at-gunpoint engineer and fireman. "Why don't you give him my address?" Cody snarls. He swiftly executes engineer and fireman lest they identify him later. Things escalate: two mail guards are killed, and the engineer, lurching back from the gunshot, collapses onto a steam release valve that jets a scalding blast into the face of one of Jarrett's crew. Brutal stuff and an early indication as to why a 1949 film carries a contemporary '15' certificate for home viewing.

Cut to: the gang laying low in an out-of-the-way cabin. In one scene - one scene! - it's established that Cody, not unlike Vic Dakin in 'Villain', is overly fond of his mother (Margaret Wycherly), that his neglected wife Verna (Virginia Mayo) is finding solace with Cody's ambitious right-hand-man Big Ed (Steve Cochran), that Cody is hip to Big Ed's designs, and that Cody suffers from debilitating headaches. The gang use a violent storm to quit the hideout and head for safety, but leave behind the poor unfortunately severely burned by the jet of steam. A pack of cigarettes left with him as cold comfort bear fingerprints that point the cops towards Cody.

With a tail on Ma Jarrett (the wily old gal shakes them; they only locate her through a dumb-luck wrong turn), the heat comes down on Cody. He decides to jump before he's pushed and pleads guilty to a hotel robbery (smaller take; no casualties) that occurred at the same time as the train job. Result: minimum sentence (1 - 3 years); alibi for the train robbery. The authorities don't buy it and straight-arrow copper Philip Evans (John Archer), injured by Cody during a shoot-out, arranges a plant in his cell: undercover agent Vic Pardo (Edmond O'Brien).

Vic gets nothing out of Cody, who instantly distrusts him, but is there when fellow inmate Palmer (Paul Guilfoyle) - in the pay of Big Ed - stages an assassination attempt against Cody in the prison machine shop. Vic saves Cody, who repays the favour when he busts out of prison during a transfer to a psychiatric facility and takes Vic with him. He also takes Palmer - at gunpoint - and locks him in the trunk of a car. When Palmer complains its stuffy, Cody aereates the trunk - with four bullets.

So why's Cody so keen to blow the joint? Well, it starts with a visit from Ma: she tells him she's caught Verna and Big Ed in flagrante and announces that she's going to take care of things. Cody, impotent in his inability to stop her, is left clinging to the bars that separate them in the visiting room, wailing for her to desist. Later he hears from a newly admitted con that she's dead. To say he goes beserk is like saying Oliver Reed went down the pub now and then.

Settling the score with Big Ed, but unaware that he still has two traitors in his camp, Cody puts the gang back together and plans a wages heist at a chemical plant. This time, though, the cops have the location and the inside man is about to be outed ...

'White Heat' was made eleven years after 'Angels with Dirty Faces'. Some things had changed, some things stayed the same. Gangsters still talk in rat-tat-tat bursts of smart-alec dialogue. Cops still arrive at crime scenes fully equipped with searchlights, tear gas and tommy guns. What's changed is the moralising. Who gives a fuck that Vic gets the "he made it to the top of the world and then it blew up in his face" final line? - you've spent the last half of the movie despising him as a stool pigeon anyway. Nor is there any of the human element that suffuses 'Angels with Dirty Faces'. If Rocky Sullivan is basically a decent guy who was let down by the system whilst in reform school and set on an inexorable path to a life of crime yada yada yada blah de blah de blah, then 'White Heat' makes no bones that Cody Jarrett is basically one royally fucked up psychopath.

What makes the film really interesting is that it also engages with his psychopathology. Cody's father "died kicking and screaming in the nuthouse" (it's suggested the psychosis is hereditary); he feigned headaches at a young age to gain his mother's attention away from the rest of the family; he treats his mother better than his wife; he admits to carrying on conversations with his mother after her death. I can't think of another film from this period that delves so deeply into its anti-hero's psychological make-up. James Cagney's Cody Jarrett is a precursor to decades of cinematic miscreants, from Dirk Bogarde's Tom Riley in 'The Blue Lamp' to Anthony Perkins' Norman Bates in 'Psycho' to Tom Noonan's Francis Dollarhyde in 'Manhunter'.

Raoul Walsh, a stalwart of hard-hitting film noir and crime cinema with the likes of 'They Drive by Night' and 'High Sierra', made his masterpiece with 'White Heat'. Apart from the occasional flaw (the chemical plant shoot-out, although it seems to occur in real time, begins in broad daylight and concludes at dead of night), it's a film that puts to shame most contemporary blockbusters in terms of pacy narrative and well-handled set-pieces, and - in its iconic, amoral and plausibly empathetic depiction of villainy - echoes down the years in Scorsese's 'Goodfellas' and Tarantino's 'Reservoir Dogs'. A film that, in its apocalyptic ending, was relevatory for its time. The gangster movie, perhaps more than any other genre, has produced an astounding ratio of classics ... and 'White Heat' is one of the best.

Angels with Dirty Faces

Upfront: SPOILER ALERT (pretty much the whole article)

Leaving aside for a moment its moralistic ending, 'Angels with Dirty Faces' puts me in mind of a Jim Thompson novel. Thompson's stories often peak at what would traditionally constitute a denouement fairly early on, then develop into studies of aftermath. 'Angels with Dirty Faces' conforms to a three-act structure:

Act One is the origin story, in which the juvenile Rocky Sullivan gets in trouble with the law while his pal and fellow delinquent Jerry Connelly gets away. Rather than straightening out in reform school, Rocky becomes hardened; determined to kick against the system. A few stretches in jail make this wise-ass tough-guy wiser and tougher still.

Act Two is the rise and fall of the now adult Rocky (James Cagney). A whirlwind montage of bootlegging, shoot-outs, fast cars and dancing girls sketch in the pleasures and perils of the lifestyle. An abrupt cut to Rocky about to go down for three years emphasises the punishment. But just as Rocky didn't rat out Jerry as a kid, he keeps shtum about his current partner James Frazier (Humphrey Bogart), a bent lawyer to whom he entrusts $100k of stolen money with instructions to set himself up in "business" and make contacts.

Act Three is the aftermath part: Rocky gradually uncovering Frazier's duplicity - the lawyer's now in league with old-school hood Mac Keefer (George Bancroft) and both consider Rocky a liability - while lying low in the old neighbourhood where he strikes up a tentative romance with Laury (Ann Sheridan), reacquaints with Jerry (Pat O'Brien) and becomes a mentor to a gang of street kids (the "Dead End" kids) whom Jerry, now a priest, is trying to save from a life of crime.

Director Michael Curtiz powers through Acts One and Two with such energy and economy that they occupy just the first ten minutes. The rest of the film deals with Act Three. Again, Curtiz doesn't waste a frame of film. 'Angels' abounds with incident: there's Keefer's attempt to rub out Rocky; Rocky getting the dirt on Frazier and all his political contacts and turning the tables; a crooked cop who's in Keefer's pocket harrassing Rocky only for Keefer to call him off when he realises how badly Rocky's compromised Frazier. The genre elements are punchy and well-crafted, particularly an assassination attempt in a chemist's store and a climactic shoot-out complete with searchlights, tear gas and tommy guns.

But Curtiz weaves a human story around the gunfights and double-crosses. Rocky's human side is evident in his relationships with Jerry and Laury. Jerry is initially delighted that Rocky takes an interest in the kids (he sees this as the key to Rocky's redemption), but soon begins to worry when these pocket edition gangsters begin slavishly hero-worshipping a real one. And when he implicates them in his entanglements with Frazier and Keefer, getting them to hide the money he's forcibly got back from Frazier, Jerry decides he has to take a stand against his old friend.

It's hard not to feel annoyed at the last-minute subplot the film-makers shoehorn in. We've enjoyed tough-talking gangster schtick, a twisty-turny tale of double-crosses and dangerous deals, and a decent helping of earthy humour (Rocky refereeing at a basketball game, physically beating the kids into playing by the rules, is an inspired blend of archly ironic humour and laugh-out-loud pratfalls) ... and then someone goes and turns on the morality.

Late-in-the-game scenes of Jerry spearheading a public crusade against the criminal underworld and corruption in high places are rushed; not properly developed. Frazier and Keefer seem to sit back and let the groundswell happen before it even occurs to them to have the priest bumped off. But Rocky's still too attached to Jerry to let them go ahead. He's not unlike a Michael Mann protagonist in this respect: even though he's resolved the conflict with Frazier and Keefer, even entering into an uneasy partnership, and even though all are threatened equally by Jerry's crusading, it's Jerry to whom Rocky is most loyal. He doesn't deviate from his code of honour.

Confronted with Keefer's plans to send Jerry "floating down the river", Rocky's determination to protect his friend seals his own fate.

Tried, found guilty and sentenced to death, Rocky whiles away his final hours sneering at the prison warders, talking tough and promising he'll spit in their eye before he goes to the chair. Then Jerry visits him asks him one last favour: die yellow, die like a coward, stop being a hero to the kids. Jerry has almost lost them; he fears for hundreds of others just like them. He begs Rocky not to become a martyr they'll emulate at the cost of ending up on Death Row themselves.

Forget Jerry's morally uplifting final line as he leads the kids symbolically out of the darkness of their basement hideout and up into the light; the most memorable scene has Rocky initially refuse Jerry's request, then gleefully punch out one of the guards before he's lead to the chair. Defiance is written on his face. A tight shot shows Jerry walking by his side, the guards close behind them. During the long walk, Cagney conveys, just by his eyes and the set of his mouth, the struggle going on inside Rocky; the enormity of the decision he finally makes.

James Cagney double bill

Sorting through some boxes in the garage yesterday in search of my old VHS copy of 'Thief', it came as a revelation that I still own so many films on video that I've not yet replaced on DVD. Having already put aside a good two dozen crime movies from the DVD cabinet for possible inclusion in this month's Shots on the Blog project, I came away with half that number again on tape.

Two of the titles I came across were Jimmy Cagney classics: 'Angels with Dirty Faces' and 'White Heat', the latter on the personal faves list.

It's Sunday, I'm a week off getting paid so funds are low and the pub and the cinema not an option, so I'm having me a double bill today. I'll be watching 'Angels' this morning and blogging about it after lunch, then 'White Heat' this afternoon and posting an article in the evening. It's either that or mow the lawn, and I'd rather make it to the top of the world than the bottom of the garden.