"Mrs. Kirk Bennett – so you're the one he left sitting at home. Some guys are never satisfied."
They say that an innocent man doesn't run. And while the motives of Kirk Bennett (John Phillips) in visiting singer Mavis Marlowe (Constance Dowling) were surely anything but innocent, he certainly didn't murder her. We know that, yes, but Kirk never got around to finishing that phone call to the police, interrupted by clatter in the other room. He left his fingerprints all over the crime scene. Startled by Mavis' returning secretary, he darted down a stairwell in a failed attempt to flee. Detectives check out his story, but nothing else sticks. Before you have time to blink twice, a jury has sentenced him to the electric chair.
Nick's wife Catherine (June Vincent) is dead certain that he isn't guilty. She sets out on her own investigation, which brings her to the door of Mavis' estranged husband, pianist and songwriter Martin Blair (Dan Duryea). Nevermind that Catherine confronted Marty in the hopes of revealing this unhinged, heartbroken alcoholic as the true killer; they're soon partners. They know that if they can find Mavis' heart-shaped brooch that was stolen from her apartment, they'll have found her murderer. They can't shake the feeling that sleazy nightclub owner Marko (Peter Lorre) is somehow wrapped up in this, and to get closer to him – and whatever's locked in his safe – Catherine and Marty sign on as the club's new musical act. The closer the two of them come to the truth, the closer they are to being discovered...
The story goes that Cornell Woolrich hated this adaptation of his 1943 novel of – give or take an article – the same name. I can't say that Black Angel inspired such a strong reaction one way or the other from me. The murder mystery itself isn't terribly involving, as Catherine and Marty aim their sights so squarely at a single suspect once they've joined forces. Along the way, there aren't any fistfights in shadowy back alleys or threats of gunplay; the primary menace is instead the growing attraction between the pianist and his newfound singer. The sparks between them are in stark contrast to their mission, with Martin having so brutally lost the noxious woman he believed to be the love of his life, while Catherine strives to free her husband from an untimely, undeserved end. Starcrossed, they can't be together yet can't be apart. Worse still, one of them feels far more passionately about this than the other.
The ticking clock of Nick's execution does ratchet up the intensity and urgency of Black Angel. There's a particularly suspenseful sequence with Catherine skulking about Marko's office, searching for some clue as to his connection with Mavis while Nick keeps a watchful eye below as best he can, perched at his piano. And while the killer's true identity comes as no great shock, the twist isn't really the point; it's about convincing the right people as to what really happened that night before they flip the switch. That seemingly futile desperation makes for some of Black Angel's most powerful moments.
Though I wouldn't argue that Black Angel has long been an underappreciated noir – if pressed, I don't think I'd classify it as noir at all, to whatever extent such a label matters – it's hardly without its strengths. The film benefits from a marvelous cast, including Dan Duryea playing rather against type as a sympathetic lead who finds a redemption he didn't think he deserved, Constance Dowling as a venomous heartbreaker who makes a hell of a lasting impression despite her limited screentime, and June Vincent's transformation into an investigative chanteuse, along with the always reliable likes of Peter Lorre and Broderick Crawford. The film features several incredibly memorable songs by Edgar Fairchild and Jack Brooks. And though Black Angel would be the last film directed by the hyper-prolific Roy William Neill, a visual eye this stylish ensures that he went out on a high note. An early shot with the camera soaring up the brick exterior of the Wilshire House, through the blinds, and into Mavis' ritzy apartment in particular is nothing less than dazzling. What could've been just another B-murder/mystery in lesser hands is instead elevated into something worth seeking out. Recommended.
With as fine-grained and richly detailed as this presentation of Black Angel so often is, it comes as somewhat of a surprise that it's been pieced together from two different elements – neither of which is the OCN – and scanned at "just" 2K. This Blu-ray release frequently impresses more than some 4K scans of comparable elements that I've come across from other labels. I can't help but marvel at the clarity and detail showcased in the screenshot below, for instance, particularly the exceptionally fine patterns in the leads' clothing:
I'm not left with any concerns about Black Angel's AVC encode, which effectively gets one of the layers of this BD-50 disc all to itself, and whatever wear or damage remained in Universal's scans have been skillfully addressed during Arrow Films' remastering.
The most curious facet of Black Angel's visuals is its aspect ratio. The expectation is that a film of this vintage would be presented at a ratio at or at least near 1.37:1. Black Angel is instead delivered at the unconventional ratio of 1.28:1 – a difference of some 6.5%. Though I'll confess that the image didn't strike me as distorted during an initial viewing, it does seem to be a bit pinched upon closer inspection. One example is presented below. The image on the left is directly from the disc – with the pillarboxing removed from the thumbnail – and the one on the right has been rescaled to the expected aspect ratio. The resized image, at least to my eyes, better reflects the proportions of Dan Duryea and June Vincent's faces in production stills:
Below is another comparison, this time with a specific production still to use as reference:
I have to admit that the more comparisons I do, the more it seems that the presentation is compromised, to however limited an extent. I won't succumb to hyperbole and rant about how Black Angel has been ravaged on Blu-ray – again, this escaped my attention entirely until I started capturing screenshots – but I do still believe that it's worth pointing out. I haven't yet seen a comment from Arrow Academy about this issue, but I'll update this review accordingly when I do.
Update: Arrow Academy confirmed on Facebook that this is indeed a mistake and that a replacement program is in the works. Future pressings won't suffer from this distortion. Revised screenshots and an updated score will follow as soon as I have a replacement disc in hand.
Don't fret; I don't have nearly as much to drone on about when it comes to Black Angel's monaural audio. The 24-bit uncompressed track more or less hits the marks I'd hoped to hear, devoid of any particularly intrusive flaws. What hiss is lurking in the background is readily shrugged off. There aren't any issues whatsoever with discerning dialogue, however edgy it may sound at times. The musical numbers uniformly acquit themselves well, and Black Angel's sound effects – even something as minor as Marko lightly swatting Lucky's shoulder – are reproduced brilliantly. I've recorded one brief sample below in case anyone's aching for a taste:
Perfectly respectable. No complaints or concerns worth noting. Also included are an audio commentary and a set of English (SDH) subtitles.
Original poster art is showcased on the flipside of this reversible cover. The sizeable booklet features Philip Kemp's "Black Angel: Swansong of a Neglected Filmmaker" alongside three contemporaneous reviews. Though the primary focus of Kemp's essay is the life and career of director Roy William Neill, Black Angel is still discussed at some length, in particular offering the most detailed look at some of the differences between Woolrich's novel and this film adaptation.
The Final Word
Though its murder mystery isn't as remarkable as I would've liked to have seen, Black Angel is heightened by such a terrific cast, stylish direction, and memorable musical numbers that it remains very much worth seeking out for devotees of '40s crime pictures. Recommended, at least once the corrected run of discs is ready to go.