Reviewed by Glenn Erickson
L'Amour fou got a shot in the arm with Joseph H. Lewis' Gun Crazy. It's one of the most
popular films noir because, like
Kiss Me Deadly, it's just so much
fun. This tale of Romeo and Juliet as armed robbers flaunted Hollywood taboos written
and unwritten, and came with a tawdry appeal that begins with the anatomically exaggerated poster
illustration (the DVD cover, above). Guns play an important role but they're not fetishized; the
fatalistic game of our two lover-criminals is taken to delirious extremes. Noted for a realistic,
riveting robbery sequence shot all in one take, Gun Crazy is for the most part a highly
Out of reform school and the army, gun-lover Bart Tare (John Dall of
Rope) meets his destiny
in the shape of lovely trick-shot artiste Annie Laurie Starr (Peggy Cummins of
Curse of the Demon). After a
whirlwind courtship, Laurie breaks down Bart's resistance to crime with the threat that she
might leave him. They become armed robbers especially adept at evading the law. But Bart harbors
a secret from his childhood: He's constitutionally incapable of shooting any living thing.
Gun Crazy is a cinematic sketch book of good techniques used with perfect precision. Director
Joseph H. Lewis worked with a motivated crew on this low-budget independent picture and it
made his reputation as an extremely creative moviemaker. Shots are splendidly designed down to the
last detail. When Lewis frames young Rusty Tamblyn half off-screen to accentuate his instability,
or places his two female characters to maximize their contrast, he has complete control of the
Dalton Trumbo's credit was restored to Gun Crazy long after he died; credited Millard Kaufman
was a front writer who dealt with the studios when Trumbo was blacklisted. The story utilizes a rapid
set of flashbacks in a judicial hearing to explain the source of Bart Tare's phobia against killing;
it never explains why he (sigh) just likes guns a lot. We read plenty into his obsession without
further symbolism. His fate is sealed when he links up with the cold-blooded, manipulative Annie Laurie
Starr. They make terrific music together on the sideshow (bang - bang - bang!) but Laurie is one
of the strongest teases in films to date. Cooly explaining that she needs a guy can go all the way,
she entices him with an exposed leg while giving him an ultimatum: help her do armed robberies, or scram.
The film is chock full of hardboiled dialogue delivered at just the right sordid pitch. "You'll always
be nothing but a two-bit guy!" Laurie snarls at Packy, her previous lover-patsy (Berry Kroeger). It
also has one of the best anxious/despairing noir speeches, where Bart talks of life becoming an
unending nightmare. But Bart and Laurie are so thoroughly dedicated to each other that they'd rather die
than separate, a fact that somehow elevates them to classic status.
There's a detailed location caper in the second half of the film, but the most written-about scene
in the movie is the Hampton robbery sequence, shot all in one take from the back seat of the getaway
car. Single take sequences are nothing now,
especially when CGI manipulation can join shots seamlessly or soar around the action as a camera never
could. But in 1949 the you-are-there thrill of experiencing the holdup in real time was quite a thrill.
Even though he never climbed into the higher ranks of filmmakers, Joseph H. Lewis was highly
respected within the industry for this kind of innovation.
Peggy Cummins is perfect as Laurie, a character much different than her other genteel or less
assertive roles. The movie smooths over her unlikely English background and she's far too compelling
for us to doubt her. When it's time to sneak through a roadblock, she changes from hardbitten
determination to sweet-talking local girl without losing a beat. John Dall is less a good actor than
perfectly cast; when faced with the girl of his dreams his giant grin for once seems appropriate.
There's only one awkward interruption to the story, a flatly directed and clumsily written scene where
Laurie and Bart whine about their predicament with the law, state their guilt and admit the basic
immorality of what they're doing. "Why do you have to kill people? Why can't you let them live?"
says John Dall, reminding us of just how marginal an actor he is. "We go together, like guns and
ammunition!" It's almost as if one of the producer's kids wrote the dialogue, it's so poor - this looks,
sounds and smells like a scene mandated to get Gun Crazy past the censors.
The film soon shakes itself out of that scene for a frantic conclusion that begins with a romantic
dance on the Santa Monica pier. Their career in crime traces a pitiful arc that gives them time for
just one embrace on the dance floor before they're running again. Like panicked animals, they make
and drop things. Holing up in Bart's sister's house, we get a good noir comparison between
possible female characters in film noir: Laurie trims her nails in a black dress like an irate
panther, and Bart's sister Ruby works like a sweating mule in the hard role of housewife. The movie
doesn't show us many more career choices.
Bart's childhood trauma at killing a chick (a very effective scene) prepares us for the insanity of
Laurie's bursts of violence, shooting a woman in the face just because it feels good. Bart is so
sympathetic that we're totally on his side as he tries to cool down Laurie's wild temper. At the
end he finally breaks his own rule, fighting his nature to protect others from Laurie. Naturally,
it means the end for Bart as well.
Gun Crazy was originally released
through United Artists. It had an aborted release under another title and as such was never fully
distributed. Its reputation beyond Hollywood and Paris circles didn't emerge until the popularization
of film noir in the 70s; it was already a core inspiration for Jean-Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut
Warners' DVD of Gun Crazy presents the independent film beautifully. The picture is mostly
sharp and detailed, bringing out every flaw in the brief stock shot sequences. Victor Young's score
and the two pop songs used in the film sound great.
The only extra is an audio commentary ... by me, an odd case of turnabout. The commentary seeks
to summarize the published facts about the film, compare it with the 1940 MacKinlay Kantor short
story and to venture some opinions about what it all means. It was a good experience. 1
On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor,
Gun Crazy rates:
Packaging: Keep case
Reviewed: July 1, 2004
1. Since reviewing my own
commentary track isn't appropriate, let me describe the experience instead. It was the result of a
week's effort. After reading
the short story and making notes, I found that trying to speak extemporaneously on the movie was
hopeless. So I instead wrote myself a timed script and rehearsed with the film to try to make it sound
as natural as possible.
I've edited a number of commentaries and was pleased with New Wave's job
on this one (I wasn't
involved after the recording). They dropped a few superfluous comments here and there and put it
together fairly well. When the commentary was being recorded, I saved myself at the last minute -
I wrote that Ruby's husband may have deserted her, and just as I was recording that line, I looked up
at the monitor and saw the husband at Ruby's dinette table!
Luckily the editors cut it out. I
now have a heightened respect for radio-type talents who can think on their feet without stumbling
over their words.
DVD Savant Text © Copyright 2004 Glenn Erickson
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