FALL GUY (Monogram Pictures, 1947)

D: Reginald Le Borg. P: Walter Mirisch. W: Jerry Warner, John O’Dea, Cornell Woolrich [original story, Cocaine]. Ph: Mack Stengler. M: Edward J. Kay. St: Clifford Penn [Leo Penn] (Tom Cochrane), Robert Armstrong (Mac McLaine), Teala Loring (Lois Walter), Elisha Cook Jr. (Joe), Douglas Fowley (Inspector Shannon)


Throw the book at him – the book and the covers and everything in between them

Found on the street, addled by cocaine and carrying a bloodied knife, Tom Cochrane is kept under observation in hospital. After the police are unable to extract information from the delirious suspect, Tom flees and confesses to his roommate, Mac that he killed a woman the night before. Mac is a cop and, when it becomes increasingly obvious that Tom’s memories of the previous night are at best hazy, he and Tom attempt to discover what really happened.


Though impaired by the fast set-ups of its Poverty Row budget, Fall Guy is nevertheless an entertaining programmer with a crepuscular vision and a deepening mystery at its heart. It begins well enough; a deeply contrasting cityscape is obscured by plumes of smoke with light bursting through from neon signs. Le Borg breaks up the dialogue-heavy production with busy exteriors; the bustling city is represented by trams and subway platforms crowded with people. However, he breaks no new ground; the film is imitative of the better thrillers that had germinated post-war. Teala Loring as Tom’s betrothed is a less vivacious version of Rita Hayworth, while in one scene Decoy, another low-budget noir oddity, is showing at a cinema.


Despite Tom’s confession that he killed a woman and the fact that he is a heavy drinker, such is Lois’s adoration that she persuades Mac not to contact the police, thereby putting Mac’s job at risk and effectively making them all accomplices.

The flashback to Tom’s lost night is ushered in with a hazy dissolve and a voice-over. Penn, father of actors Sean and Chris, while not bursting with charisma, perfects a vacant stare and rather monotonous narration to conjure an aura of disconnectedness. After a row with Lois and the subsequent drinking session, he is shanghaied by Joe, a fellow booze hound (Elisha Cook Jr. in characteristically testy form), into attending a party where he is seduced by good-time girl Marie (Virginia Dale). As Tom reflects, “Nothing makes you forget a girl quicker than another girl.” Soon, the room tilts, beads of sweat begin to pop on his forehead and he awakens in an empty room with a dead body in the closet.



Tom and Mac’s investigation is hampered by druggy amnesia. What the production lacks in set design is made up for by De Borg’s use of montage; neon signs overlap shots of dancing girls as the duo trawl from bar to bar on the West Side. When Tom recalls that Joe is an elevator operator, a similar mechanism is used as we are bombarded with skewed shots of doormen and hotel facades, creating a disorienting effect.


Cook Jr. bonds the low budget of Fall Guy to more renowned thrillers. When Tom finally questions him, he refutes all knowledge of their meeting and becomes defensive: “Depends what kind of info you’re looking for, bud. I’m no dictionary you know.” Later, in a high-angle shot that visually references Cook Jr’s role as the gunsel in The Maltese Falcon, we see Joe stationed under a street lamp spying on Tom and Mac.


The staccato dialogue of suspects, heroes and cops adds much-needed steel to a stuttering narrative. There’s space for violence as well, though De Borg’s execution of these scenes is not particularly persuasive. During the confrontation with Joe, Tom roughhouses the elevator operator by twisting his hand behind his back, but camera positioning and editing are sloppy, a far cry from the brutality that directors such as Mann or Lang were beginning to present to audiences.


The energy with which the film began starts to deplete towards the end of its 65 minutes, but Fall Guy never completely overstays its welcome. A final revelation – a little too neat – is followed by a rooftop chase that exploits a dark, dangerous landscape of jutting chimney stacks. Never quite brave enough to plunder the psychological depths of other Poverty Row productions such as Detour, De Borg’s film is a hit-and-miss affair with just enough intrigue to transfix noir enthusiasts.
Clark Hodgkiss

No comments:

Post a Comment