William Wyler's "Detective Story"

Sandwiched between two period dramas, The Heiress (1949) and Carrie (1952), William Wyler's contemporary Detective Story may be the famed director's grittiest drama. Based on Sidney Kingsley's Broadway play, it takes place during a single day at New York City's 21st precinct police department.

Kirk Douglas stars as Jim McLeod, an uncompromising police detective intent on waging a one-man war against crime. ("We're your army," he tells a victim. "We're here to protect you.") His personal vendetta focuses on Karl Schneider, a former physician accused of operating a "baby farm." When McLeod loses his two witnesses against Schneider--one is paid off and one dies--his anger turns to violence. He beats Schneider severely, turning the would-be criminal into a victim of police brutality. Yet, McLeod can cope with a potential assault charge hanging over his head. He is totally unprepared, however, when his actions set into motion a revelation that destroys the one thing that brings stability to his existence.

Many directors have struggled with transforming a static play to the more flexible medium of cinema. Never known as a visual stylist, Wyler avoids dramatic camera shots and elaborate editing tricks. Instead, he creates a canvas on which the performers can play out the story. Still, that's not to say that he doesn't subtly enhance the setting and performances with his use of close-ups and deep focus. 

Parker and Douglas.

Wyler conveys the chaos of the police station by employing deep focus to show three detectives in one shot, each "stacked" behind the other, talking over one another about different cases. In a key scene between McLeod and his wife Mary (Eleanor Parker), Wyler frames them so that McLeod faces the camera in the foreground while his wife (unable to see her husband's face) struggles to choose her words in the background. And, in another scene between the two, Wyler shows Mary in close-up, while McLeod's clenched fist--symbolically containing his about-to-explode emotions--lurks, barely visible, on the right side of the frame.

Even with Wyler's enhancements, Detective Story's stage origins are obvious--and that's not a bad thing. A large room where the detectives write their reports serves as the principal set as a wide array of characters enter and leave during the day: an eccentric woman who believes her neighbors are making an atomic bomb; a young man accused of embezzlement; a couple of hoods; a nice-guy reporter; and  an apologetic shoplifter (Lee Grant) who observes the proceedings while awaiting her fate. The intertwining subplots add to the film's realism (as does the lack of background music) while never distracting from the portrait of a man precariously on the edge.

Douglas with William Bendix.

The cast is uniformly fine, with several performers (e.g., Lee Grant, Horace McMahon, Joseph Wiseman) repeating their stage roles. Kirk Douglas gives one of his most compelling performances, though it helps that it's a riveting part with memorable dialogue (e.g., "Take a couple of drop-dead pills" and "I'm drowning in my juices"). Ralph Bellamy played McLeod when the play debuted on Broadway in 1949.

Wyler encountered significant censorship challenges in adapting Detective Story from stage to screen. In the play, Schneider is accused of illegal abortions, which would have violated the motion pictures industry's Production Code, which stated "abortion, sex hygiene and venereal diseases are not proper subjects for theatrical motion pictures." 

Joseph Wiseman (the future Dr.
No) with Kirk.

A more serious problem--involving the death of one of the characters--was averted when the Production Code was amended in March 1951. From 1938 to 1951, the Code stated: "There must be no scenes, at any time, showing law-enforcement officers dying at the hands of criminals." That was fortunately amended to: "There must be no scenes, at any time, showing law-enforcement officers dying at the hands of criminals unless such scenes are absolutely necessary to the development of the plot."

With its themes of forgiveness and self-righteousness in judging others, Detective Story fits nicely among Wyler's works. What makes it one of his best movies is Wyler's ability to provide a sympathetic portrait of a a violent man hanging by a thread that he cuts himself.


This review of part of the William Wyler Blogathon hosted by The Movie Projector. To read reviews of other William Wyler films, click here.

Eleanor Parker, Janet Leigh, and a Very Long Swordfight--Good Times for Stewart Granger in "Scaramouche"

MGM, the home of big splashy musicals, pretty much ignored historical adventure films in the 1930s and 1940s, leaving that genre to rivals Warner Bros. (The Adventures of Robin Hood) and 20th Century-Fox (The Mark of Zorro). That changed in 1950 when the unexpected worldwide success of King Solomon’s Mines convinced studio executives to relook the genre. They promptly cast Solomon’s Mines star Stewart Granger as the dashing hero of Scaramouche. No expense was spared on the film and it shows—Scaramouche is, simply, one of the finest swashbucklers in the history of the cinema.

Granger plays Andre Moreau, a carefree rascal who is more interested in the pretty actress Lenore (Eleanor Parker) than in the soon-to-begin French Revolution. That changes when Andre’s closest friend Phillipe (Richard Anderson), a revolutionary activist, meets his demise in a duel with the Marquis de Maynes (Mel Ferrer). Andre vows revenge, but knows he is no match for de Maynes, the most renowned swordsman in France.

Now branded a revolutionary himself, Andre takes refuge in an acting troupe. He assumes the stage role of Scaramouche, a buffoon who wears a pink-cheeked mask. To his surprise, Lenore turns out to be the small troupe’s leading lady. Her anger with him over their hot-cold romance generates laughs on the stage and Scaramouche’s fame begins to grow—but Andre’s heart is still filled with vengeance. He secretly takes fencing lessons from de Mayne’s tutor in preparation for his eventual showdown with his enemy.

There’s much more to the story. Screenwriters Ronald Millar and George Froeschel do an excellent job of condensing the rich plot of Rafael Sabatini’s entertaining bestseller (well worth reading). Sabatini loyalists may quibble with some of the key changes from the book, but I think they actually work for the best. And no one can argue with the witty dialogue. When the fencing instructor has to unexpectedly terminate the lessons, Andre inquires about the next best fencing instructor: “I can no longer be taught by the man who taught my enemy. So what is more fitting in a mad world than to be taught by the man who taught the man who taught my enemy?”

Stewart Granger is marvelous in a role that Errol Flynn would have played ten years earlier. Mel Ferrer makes a fine villain and Janet Leigh, who has never looked lovelier, exudes charming innocence as Andre’s other love. But the best supporting performance belongs to Eleanor Parker as the fiery red-headed Lenore. She and Granger have a natural chemistry that makes their scenes together sparkle.

The famous MGM production values are very much on display in Scaramouche. The colors are vivid, the costumes ornate, and the set design impeccable. You’ll swear that the thrilling climactic swordfight (possibly the longest in film history at 5:35 minutes…and my personal favorite) was filmed in a real Parisian theatre draped in gold, red, and white.

Stewart Granger followed Scaramouche with a colorful, though somewhat unnecessary, MGM remake of The Prisoner of Zenda (it may be the most faithful remake ever). I wouldn’t say Granger was a great actor, but he was an immensely likable and dependable star. And he was fortunate enough to find in Scaramouche the perfect role and in Eleanor Parker the perfect co-star. In a mad world, what more could an actor ask for?

Eleanor Parker and Charlton Heston Find Love--and a Lot of Ants--in "The Naked Jungle"

The producing-directing team of George Pal and Byron Haskin followed up their classic The War of the Worlds with The Naked Jungle (1954), a well-written character study which builds to a lively climax involving billions of soldier ants.

Eleanor Parker is ideally cast as Joanna Selby, a young woman who has traded her cultured lifestyle in New Orleans for a more challenging existence on a South American plantation buried in the jungle. She makes this sacrifice willingly for her new husband Christopher Leiningen—a man she has never met.

Her first encounter with Leiningen (Charlton Heston) does not go well. She greets him in her bedroom, looking quite fetching in a lacy nightgown. But Leiningen, his clothes soiled and dripping with sweat, coldly replies: “You're not dressed, madam. I should come back at another time.” This unexpectedly frigid greeting sets the tone for Leiningen's brusque attitude toward his young bride. Clearly, he is attracted to Joanna physically, for he watches her undress in silhouette and breaks down the door to her bedroom in a drunken state. But Leiningen is, as Joanna observes, afraid of her. She is more beautiful, more intelligent, and more courageous than he ever expected.

Leiningen eventually realizes the cause of his own behavior and decides that the best course for the newlyweds is a quick divorce. However, as he escorts Joanna to the river, he learns of a column of soldier ants approaching his plantation—thus setting the stage for a memorable, and surprising, climax.

It's easy to remember The Naked Jungle for the exciting ant attack, although it's not quite as thrilling as its build-up (the local commissioner notes that the ant column is “twenty miles long and two wide, forty miles of agonizing death—you can't stop it”). However, when placed in context of the entire film, the ant attack constitutes a subplot which serves the purpose of bringing Leiningen and Joanna together. In that sense, The Naked Jungle is no more about ants than The Birds was about birds. In both films, an “attack by nature” was used to resolve a conflict between two characters.

The Yordan-MacDougall screenplay sparkles with sharp dialogue and intriguing plot ambiguities. When Leiningen reels off his rigid daily schedule, Joanna (still wearing her enticing nightgown) quips: “What time is bedtime?” Later, Leiningen tells Joanna how he came to the jungle at the age of 19 and had not “been with a woman” for the past fifteen years. Judging from his awkward behavior around Joanna, one has to wonder if Leiningen had ever been with a woman. He could easily be a 34-year-old frustrated virgin male.

The Naked Jungle has its faults, to be sure. Leiningen's transformation from rude host to caring companion is a bit too rushed. The rear-screen projection, always a problem in color films, and the stagy sets constantly remind the viewer of the artificiality of the setting. (The poor rear-screen is a surprise since the cinematographer was the famed Ernest Laszlo.) Overall, though, The Naked Jungle is a well-written, well-played character study with an unexpected turn of events in the final stretch.