Film noir is generally rich in moral ambiguity: flawed heroes are doomed by their own greed, lust, or past mistakes. DESPERATE, however, is a black-and-white film in more ways than one, a strict clash between innocent goodness and senseless evil. Don't look for nuance or complexity in the story. This is a simple, beautifully made B movie, and if it doesn't leave you much to think about, it certainly fills 75 minutes with enjoyable suspense.
From the beginning the film presents a stark contrast between the wholesome and sordid sides of life. We see Steve Randall (Steve Brodie), a fresh-faced young truck-driver, celebrating his four-month wedding anniversary with his beautiful blonde wife Anne, who has baked her first cake for the occasion and plans to tell her husband she's pregnant. Meanwhile, a gang of thugs led by Walt Radak (Raymond Burr) have picked Randall to be their unwitting getaway driver for a heist. Forced to participate against his will, Randall alerts the cops by blinking his lights while they're loading the stolen goods, and in the ensuing melee Radak's kid brother is captured and a cop is killed. The gang still has Randall, and they threaten to disfigure his wife unless he confesses to the crime to save the kid brother. Pretending to comply, Randall escapes ("You must have studied to get that stupid!" Radak berates the henchman who let him get away.) The rest of the film is a game of cat and mouse, as Randall and his wife flee both the police and the gangsters: on a train, on a bus, in a succession of "borrowed" cars and in the back of a truck, hidden among some eerie, over-sized carnival masks.
They make it to a farm belonging to Anne's aunt and uncle, a warm-hearted immigrant couple. Horrified to hear that Steve and Anne were married by a judge, they give them a traditional Czech wedding, at which the women wear lacy caps and everyone dances the schottische. Meanwhile a sleazy private detective hired by Radak is tracking them down. So it goes. The story becomes increasingly implausible as Radak's plan to save his brother from the electric chair gives way to pointless, obsessive revenge against the innocent Randall. (If he's so upset about his kid brother, why doesn't he turn himself or one of his goons in?) But if you're willing to suspend disbelief, I promise you won't be bored. The movie succeeds in making you care very much about the virtuous couple, and want very much to see the sadistic Radak get his comeuppance. There was never a creepier heavy than Raymond Burr, with his looming bulk, oily dark face, and solemn, maniacal eyes.
I always associated Steve Brodie with shifty, shady little weasels like the characters he plays in OUT OF THE PAST and CROSSFIRE. But he's extremely likable as the hapless hero devoted to saving his wife and child. She is a typical forties Perfect Wife, who is constantly told by her husband to do as he says and not ask any questions, and who wants nothing but to wear an apron and keep his dinner warm. Nonetheless, you can't help but root for her. This is a rare noir that inspires no sympathy whatsoever for criminals: these guys are vile brutes devoid of any redeeming value.
Like all of Anthony Mann's B noirs, DESPERATE has great visual flair, using such stylish effects as a single swinging lamp in a dark room and a pursuit up a shadowy spiral staircase. These noirish touches adorn what is essentially a suspense melodrama as D.W. Griffith invented it: a race against the clock to save innocents from harm, milked for all it's worth. It worked in 1917 and it worked in 1947, and it still works as long as you're in the mood for some unpretentious entertainment.
From the beginning the film presents a stark contrast between the wholesome and sordid sides of life. We see Steve Randall (Steve Brodie), a fresh-faced young truck-driver, celebrating his four-month wedding anniversary with his beautiful blonde wife Anne, who has baked her first cake for the occasion and plans to tell her husband she's pregnant. Meanwhile, a gang of thugs led by Walt Radak (Raymond Burr) have picked Randall to be their unwitting getaway driver for a heist. Forced to participate against his will, Randall alerts the cops by blinking his lights while they're loading the stolen goods, and in the ensuing melee Radak's kid brother is captured and a cop is killed. The gang still has Randall, and they threaten to disfigure his wife unless he confesses to the crime to save the kid brother. Pretending to comply, Randall escapes ("You must have studied to get that stupid!" Radak berates the henchman who let him get away.) The rest of the film is a game of cat and mouse, as Randall and his wife flee both the police and the gangsters: on a train, on a bus, in a succession of "borrowed" cars and in the back of a truck, hidden among some eerie, over-sized carnival masks.
They make it to a farm belonging to Anne's aunt and uncle, a warm-hearted immigrant couple. Horrified to hear that Steve and Anne were married by a judge, they give them a traditional Czech wedding, at which the women wear lacy caps and everyone dances the schottische. Meanwhile a sleazy private detective hired by Radak is tracking them down. So it goes. The story becomes increasingly implausible as Radak's plan to save his brother from the electric chair gives way to pointless, obsessive revenge against the innocent Randall. (If he's so upset about his kid brother, why doesn't he turn himself or one of his goons in?) But if you're willing to suspend disbelief, I promise you won't be bored. The movie succeeds in making you care very much about the virtuous couple, and want very much to see the sadistic Radak get his comeuppance. There was never a creepier heavy than Raymond Burr, with his looming bulk, oily dark face, and solemn, maniacal eyes.
I always associated Steve Brodie with shifty, shady little weasels like the characters he plays in OUT OF THE PAST and CROSSFIRE. But he's extremely likable as the hapless hero devoted to saving his wife and child. She is a typical forties Perfect Wife, who is constantly told by her husband to do as he says and not ask any questions, and who wants nothing but to wear an apron and keep his dinner warm. Nonetheless, you can't help but root for her. This is a rare noir that inspires no sympathy whatsoever for criminals: these guys are vile brutes devoid of any redeeming value.
Like all of Anthony Mann's B noirs, DESPERATE has great visual flair, using such stylish effects as a single swinging lamp in a dark room and a pursuit up a shadowy spiral staircase. These noirish touches adorn what is essentially a suspense melodrama as D.W. Griffith invented it: a race against the clock to save innocents from harm, milked for all it's worth. It worked in 1917 and it worked in 1947, and it still works as long as you're in the mood for some unpretentious entertainment.