# 3 ACT OF VIOLENCE
"Do I have to spell it out for you? Do I have to draw you a picture? I was an informer... I betrayed my men...They were dead and I was eating, and maybe that's all I did it for to save one man-me!"
Joe Parkson (Robert Ryan) hurriedly limps down a dark Syracuse, New York street to his cheap hotel room with a newspaper under his arm. On the front page is a story where former Syracuse businessman and war hero Frank Enley (Van Heflin) is now a successful building contractor in California. Parkson takes his Colt M1911 from a cabinet drawer and boards a bus to California. He has justice on his mind; others might call it murder.
Frank Enley is a success story. He is a pillar of his community with a lovely young wife Edith (Janet Leigh) and a toddler son. He heads his own construction company that has broken ground on another housing development. The community knows him as a decorated bomber pilot and former P.O.W. They do not know that he is a coward responsible for the deaths of ten fellow P.O.W.s.
Act of Violence is heavy on essential noir tropes. It also has a familiar Western plot of a stranger coming to a town seeking revenge and administering personal justice. The stranger is Enley's co-pilot Joe Parkson. Whereas Enley's post-war life has flourished Parkson is permanently crippled and lives alone in a cheap hotel room. He does however have the undying love of his understanding girl-friend Ann (Phyliss Thaxter).
Parkson and Enley have a symbiotic relationship formed by a shared horrific war time incident, compounded by bitterness, anger, hatred by one and self-delusion, rationalization and denial by the other. Enley informed the Germans that Parkson and nine other P.O.W's had planned a prison escape. The Germans let the escape proceed and then save for Parkson all were either killed in their failed attempt or caught and executed.
Frank Enley is a success story. He is a pillar of his community with a lovely young wife Edith (Janet Leigh) and a toddler son. He heads his own construction company that has broken ground on another housing development. The community knows him as a decorated bomber pilot and former P.O.W. They do not know that he is a coward responsible for the deaths of ten fellow P.O.W.s.
Act of Violence is heavy on essential noir tropes. It also has a familiar Western plot of a stranger coming to a town seeking revenge and administering personal justice. The stranger is Enley's co-pilot Joe Parkson. Whereas Enley's post-war life has flourished Parkson is permanently crippled and lives alone in a cheap hotel room. He does however have the undying love of his understanding girl-friend Ann (Phyliss Thaxter).
Parkson and Enley have a symbiotic relationship formed by a shared horrific war time incident, compounded by bitterness, anger, hatred by one and self-delusion, rationalization and denial by the other. Enley informed the Germans that Parkson and nine other P.O.W's had planned a prison escape. The Germans let the escape proceed and then save for Parkson all were either killed in their failed attempt or caught and executed.
Post-war trauma is cited as one of film noir's most significant tropes. Act of Violence far more than any film noir emphasizes the stress of returning veterans.
Post-war America has often described by critics as a nation rife with fear, desperation, loneliness, and alienation. Those traits are the heart and soul of noir yet those characteristics can be found in different genres and after every war.
Post war America was as an opportunity for hope; a hope relatively absent during the Depression years that began with the Stock Market Crash of October 29, 1929 until light was seen a the end of the tunnel with the Jimmy Doolittle raid on Tokyo, of April 16, 1942. The years between those two events were likely the most depressing, devastating and defining period of the 20th Century. Post war America, on the other hand, was a new beginning; the ending of twenty years of depression, deprivation, and sacrifice communally shared. Post-war America showed that there was indeed light at the end of the tunnel.
Post-war America has often described by critics as a nation rife with fear, desperation, loneliness, and alienation. Those traits are the heart and soul of noir yet those characteristics can be found in different genres and after every war.
Post war America was as an opportunity for hope; a hope relatively absent during the Depression years that began with the Stock Market Crash of October 29, 1929 until light was seen a the end of the tunnel with the Jimmy Doolittle raid on Tokyo, of April 16, 1942. The years between those two events were likely the most depressing, devastating and defining period of the 20th Century. Post war America, on the other hand, was a new beginning; the ending of twenty years of depression, deprivation, and sacrifice communally shared. Post-war America showed that there was indeed light at the end of the tunnel.
The attempt to portray America as a country in a state of malaise might be a case of critics projecting their own feelings of hopelessness, desperation and pessimism. One just has to compare European post-war films to American films and look no further than Roberto Rossellini's Germany Year Zero (1948). It is the epitome of nihilism; a film of no hope, no humanity, burned out and destroyed buildings inhabited by broken, desperate, self-serving individuals with a future that consists of living from literally minute to next minute.
Diametrically opposed is Impact (1950). It's a film that doesn't get enough consideration in it's portrayal of post-war America. Marsha Peters (Ella Raines) is a war widow who runs the local garage and cares for her Dad. She also helps wealthy industrialist Walter Williams (Brian Donlevy) regain his memory and beat a bogus murder rap. This is an excellent film with murder, double-crosses and a last minute rush to save an innocent man from the gas chamber. It is also a film of hope.
There is a sub-plot of an engaged young couple. Their relationship symbolizes an American future built on optimism, growth and opportunity. A year sooner the young man would more than likely have been sent to the Pacific or Europe. But now they can raise a family and rebuild America for they, along with tens of thousands of other couples, are the immediate beneficiaries of the sacrifices of their countrymen. Donlevy plays a wealthy industrialist who as the film starts was buying three factories. One doesn't buy factories or build factories unless one sees a burgeoning economy and a stable work force. Walter Williams, Marsha Peters and the young couple in Impact are the future of America, just as are Frank Enley and his wife and child. their child are also the future builders of the country.
Act of Violence along with Impact, even Shield For Murder gives us an America that has progressed from a chicken in every pot to every family with its own home.
Diametrically opposed is Impact (1950). It's a film that doesn't get enough consideration in it's portrayal of post-war America. Marsha Peters (Ella Raines) is a war widow who runs the local garage and cares for her Dad. She also helps wealthy industrialist Walter Williams (Brian Donlevy) regain his memory and beat a bogus murder rap. This is an excellent film with murder, double-crosses and a last minute rush to save an innocent man from the gas chamber. It is also a film of hope.
There is a sub-plot of an engaged young couple. Their relationship symbolizes an American future built on optimism, growth and opportunity. A year sooner the young man would more than likely have been sent to the Pacific or Europe. But now they can raise a family and rebuild America for they, along with tens of thousands of other couples, are the immediate beneficiaries of the sacrifices of their countrymen. Donlevy plays a wealthy industrialist who as the film starts was buying three factories. One doesn't buy factories or build factories unless one sees a burgeoning economy and a stable work force. Walter Williams, Marsha Peters and the young couple in Impact are the future of America, just as are Frank Enley and his wife and child. their child are also the future builders of the country.
Act of Violence along with Impact, even Shield For Murder gives us an America that has progressed from a chicken in every pot to every family with its own home.
Joe Parkson is the America that the Government and Military hid for years. America lauded its veterans held parades, put them pedestals, but no one wanted to know about the horrors behind the victories; to see how the sausage is made so to speak. The United States learned from the mistakes made after WW1. The country did not want another Bonus March and put together The G.I. Bill that history has proven to be the most efficient and beneficial government program in our nation's history. It was passed in June of 1944 and over 7.6 million veterans used the bill for education job training and housing loans. Enley is in many ways representative of America's future. He and his company are doing more than building more homes but also bringing hope. A hope brought about by the sacrifice of over 400,000 American servicemen.
There's no finer film about the returning veteran than The Best Years of Our Lives. Frederick March returns to his job at the bank and to the chagrin of his superior approves a loan for a returning vet whose only collateral is the life he put on the line for his country. Dana Andrews finds himself in the bombardier's cockpit of a B-17 at a plane graveyard. A flashback is interrupted by the foreman who offers a job along with some tough love. These are two vets who served in enclosed, virtually entombed, in their respective machines of war (tank and bomber).
Homer Parrish (Harold Russell) who lost his hands returns to the girl who loves him as much as when he left. In a film with great scenes perhaps none is more memorable than when see him using the two hooks to button his own shirt before the wistful eyes of his father.
The point of this digression is that I haven't haven't seen the ballyhooed noir trope of the angst ridden vet driven mad and frightened into impotence and irrelevance in many, if any noirs. Their problems and issues are found in any war. I do not see it as so unique to be a major characteristic of film noir.
There's no finer film about the returning veteran than The Best Years of Our Lives. Frederick March returns to his job at the bank and to the chagrin of his superior approves a loan for a returning vet whose only collateral is the life he put on the line for his country. Dana Andrews finds himself in the bombardier's cockpit of a B-17 at a plane graveyard. A flashback is interrupted by the foreman who offers a job along with some tough love. These are two vets who served in enclosed, virtually entombed, in their respective machines of war (tank and bomber).
Homer Parrish (Harold Russell) who lost his hands returns to the girl who loves him as much as when he left. In a film with great scenes perhaps none is more memorable than when see him using the two hooks to button his own shirt before the wistful eyes of his father.
The point of this digression is that I haven't haven't seen the ballyhooed noir trope of the angst ridden vet driven mad and frightened into impotence and irrelevance in many, if any noirs. Their problems and issues are found in any war. I do not see it as so unique to be a major characteristic of film noir.
When it comes to controversial issues film noir often goes boldly where major studios fear to tread. They Live By Night had sub themes of abortion and, along with Tomorrow Is Another Day, harsh prison confinements for minors. There is drug and pornography in The Big Sleep, homosexuality in The Maltese Falcon and The Big Combo. Act of Violence breaks ground as it addresses cowardice, betrayal and combat stress among American front line troops and their officers.
The G.I. Bill was designed to financially assist returning vets but there was nothing similar to assist for their internal struggles. Audie Murphy writes: “After the war they took Army dogs and rehabilitated them for civilian life. But, they turned soldiers into civilians immediately and let them sink or swim." You won't find this as the major theme in any noir but Act of Violence.
There are examples of incompetence and arrogance by the officer class in Attack (1956) and Paths of Glory (1958). The respective incidents of those films are also an indictment of class structure and political ambition. Act of Violence is personal. This is not some General sacrificing men to take the appropriately named Ant Hill for personal glory in Paths of Glory, nor is it a Colonel (Lee Marvin) eyeing on a political position at home baby sitting the district Judge's son in Attack.
I think it's more than coincidental that the number of men in a B-17 crew (ten) is the same number of men lost in the prison break. Enley says he did it (inform the Germans) so he could eat. I wondered about the motivation behind Enley's betrayal. It was no bed of roses for P.O.W.'s but nothing as bad as the treatment of P.O.W.s by the Japanese. Still, The Third Reich was coming to an end and food was hard to come by for their own military much less for P.O.W.s I think that after twenty-three missions Enley had neared his breaking point and by the time they were taken prisoner food deprivation was the final straw.
There are several films where Hollywood addressed combat stress. Twelve O'clock High (1949) Command Decision (1948) both had in common with Act of Violence the bombing campaign in Europe. In The Story of G.I. Joe a soldier (Fred Steele) cracks up after hearing his son's first words on a record sent by his wife. A platoon Sergeant (Herbert Rudley) who has seen combat from North Africa to Italy lays on the ground unable to go a step further in A Walk In The Sun (1945). From an article on John Huston's documentary Let There Be Light that was with held from the public for decades. William Manchester writes of a personal experience on Okinawa. He tells of seeing a sergeant major spread-eagled outside his fighting hole after an artillery barrage. The sergeant major, writes Manchester was, "... shaking uncontrollably, first shrieking as I once heard a horse shriek, then blubbering and uttering incomprehensible elementary animal sounds.”
In 1943 The Commander of a Naval Hospital in California had this to say after hearing Commander Edwin Smith who treated evacuees from Guadalcanal: “a group neurosis that has not been seen before and may never be seen again that occurred after prolonged warfare on Guadalcanal. He [Smith] had treated over five hundred Marines...and described their physical and mental strain... Rain, heat, insects, dysentery, malaria all contributed – but the end result was not bloodstream infection nor gastrointestinal disease, but a disturbance of the whole organism, a disorder of thinking and living, of even wanting to live."
A personal anecdote: I had a barber who saw action on Guam and Guadalcanal. He told of a young Marine at Guadalcanal who blew his brains out one night. It got to a point he said where you didn't care if you lived or died. It's hard to think of any returning veteran who did not experience combat related trauma in some degree.
It was those traumas and combat experiences that returning veterans found most pressing; not a domineering woman threatening his manhood by working outside the home. Classic film noir has many characteristics. I don't think fear or backlash against women in the workplace or readjusting to civilian life are unique to classic film
The G.I. Bill was designed to financially assist returning vets but there was nothing similar to assist for their internal struggles. Audie Murphy writes: “After the war they took Army dogs and rehabilitated them for civilian life. But, they turned soldiers into civilians immediately and let them sink or swim." You won't find this as the major theme in any noir but Act of Violence.
There are examples of incompetence and arrogance by the officer class in Attack (1956) and Paths of Glory (1958). The respective incidents of those films are also an indictment of class structure and political ambition. Act of Violence is personal. This is not some General sacrificing men to take the appropriately named Ant Hill for personal glory in Paths of Glory, nor is it a Colonel (Lee Marvin) eyeing on a political position at home baby sitting the district Judge's son in Attack.
I think it's more than coincidental that the number of men in a B-17 crew (ten) is the same number of men lost in the prison break. Enley says he did it (inform the Germans) so he could eat. I wondered about the motivation behind Enley's betrayal. It was no bed of roses for P.O.W.'s but nothing as bad as the treatment of P.O.W.s by the Japanese. Still, The Third Reich was coming to an end and food was hard to come by for their own military much less for P.O.W.s I think that after twenty-three missions Enley had neared his breaking point and by the time they were taken prisoner food deprivation was the final straw.
There are several films where Hollywood addressed combat stress. Twelve O'clock High (1949) Command Decision (1948) both had in common with Act of Violence the bombing campaign in Europe. In The Story of G.I. Joe a soldier (Fred Steele) cracks up after hearing his son's first words on a record sent by his wife. A platoon Sergeant (Herbert Rudley) who has seen combat from North Africa to Italy lays on the ground unable to go a step further in A Walk In The Sun (1945). From an article on John Huston's documentary Let There Be Light that was with held from the public for decades. William Manchester writes of a personal experience on Okinawa. He tells of seeing a sergeant major spread-eagled outside his fighting hole after an artillery barrage. The sergeant major, writes Manchester was, "... shaking uncontrollably, first shrieking as I once heard a horse shriek, then blubbering and uttering incomprehensible elementary animal sounds.”
In 1943 The Commander of a Naval Hospital in California had this to say after hearing Commander Edwin Smith who treated evacuees from Guadalcanal: “a group neurosis that has not been seen before and may never be seen again that occurred after prolonged warfare on Guadalcanal. He [Smith] had treated over five hundred Marines...and described their physical and mental strain... Rain, heat, insects, dysentery, malaria all contributed – but the end result was not bloodstream infection nor gastrointestinal disease, but a disturbance of the whole organism, a disorder of thinking and living, of even wanting to live."
A personal anecdote: I had a barber who saw action on Guam and Guadalcanal. He told of a young Marine at Guadalcanal who blew his brains out one night. It got to a point he said where you didn't care if you lived or died. It's hard to think of any returning veteran who did not experience combat related trauma in some degree.
It was those traumas and combat experiences that returning veterans found most pressing; not a domineering woman threatening his manhood by working outside the home. Classic film noir has many characteristics. I don't think fear or backlash against women in the workplace or readjusting to civilian life are unique to classic film
The shadows, darkness and the pervasive sense of claustrophobia evident in Joe Parkson's world contrasts dramatically with Frank Enley's. We see it early in the film when Parkson leaves Syracuse and arrives in Enley's home town on Memorial Day Weekend.
Enley is seen as a hero in his new town. When called on to make a speech the Mayor jokes: "On the double, Captain. First chance I ever had to give orders to a Captain." Edith later reminds him to bring his bombardier's jacket on his fishing trip.
Parkson almost catches up with him while Enley is fishing. Once back at the dock Enley is told a stranger who walks with a limp is looking for him. Let me digress a bit: Much of our appreciation for black and white films is the glimpse it gives us into once popular idioms, social practices and lexicon of the past. An example of this is the term 'bread and butter.' When Van Heflin and his fishing buddy walk side by side they separate for a second to avoid hitting a pole. Once past the pole Enley’s friend says, ’bread and butter.” This is a term “..."typically said by young couples or friends walking together when they are forced to separate by an obstacle, such as a pole or another person. By saying the phrase, the bad luck of letting something come between them is thought to be averted...Both walkers must say the phrase."
Perhaps I am reading too much into this but Enley did not reply with the perfunctory ‘bread and butter.’ Is this omission a portent of bad luck? It's certainly possible if taken in the context of the common vernacular of 1949. Certainly it would have elicited a few people to comment, 'he forgot to say 'bread and butter'. Whatever. I found it an interesting look at a once popular idiom of the 40s.
Once Enley returns home he turns off the lights, shuts the blinds and his home is shroud in darkness as it will be for nearly the entirety of the film. Parkson has infiltrated Enley's world. Frank flees to a builder's convention in Los Angeles where the band plays, Happy Days Are Here Again. But as they say you always bring yourself no matter where you go. In Frank’s case it’s one claustrophobic sequence after to another.
Edith tracks him down to the convention hall. Frank reveals the truth about the incident at the P.O.W. camp, and that is why he's being hunted. Edith wants to call the police or a veteran's hospital. He tells her she can't do it. If she does the truth will come out and they will have to live with his shame and betrayal. "This (his betrayal) will be a nice legacy for our children." When she persists he shouts at her; "Do I have to spell it out for you? Do I have to draw a picture? I was an informer. I betrayed my men. They were dead and I was eating, and maybe that's all I did it for to save one man-me!"
When Frank is done with his confession, she turns her back and leaves for home. Ann, (who has followed Joe to California) has waited for her. She tells Edith that Joe knows Frank's location. It turns out Joe knows more than Frank's location; he's already there and has found him . They fight; Enley escapes and flees for safety.
Enley is seen as a hero in his new town. When called on to make a speech the Mayor jokes: "On the double, Captain. First chance I ever had to give orders to a Captain." Edith later reminds him to bring his bombardier's jacket on his fishing trip.
Parkson almost catches up with him while Enley is fishing. Once back at the dock Enley is told a stranger who walks with a limp is looking for him. Let me digress a bit: Much of our appreciation for black and white films is the glimpse it gives us into once popular idioms, social practices and lexicon of the past. An example of this is the term 'bread and butter.' When Van Heflin and his fishing buddy walk side by side they separate for a second to avoid hitting a pole. Once past the pole Enley’s friend says, ’bread and butter.” This is a term “..."typically said by young couples or friends walking together when they are forced to separate by an obstacle, such as a pole or another person. By saying the phrase, the bad luck of letting something come between them is thought to be averted...Both walkers must say the phrase."
Perhaps I am reading too much into this but Enley did not reply with the perfunctory ‘bread and butter.’ Is this omission a portent of bad luck? It's certainly possible if taken in the context of the common vernacular of 1949. Certainly it would have elicited a few people to comment, 'he forgot to say 'bread and butter'. Whatever. I found it an interesting look at a once popular idiom of the 40s.
Once Enley returns home he turns off the lights, shuts the blinds and his home is shroud in darkness as it will be for nearly the entirety of the film. Parkson has infiltrated Enley's world. Frank flees to a builder's convention in Los Angeles where the band plays, Happy Days Are Here Again. But as they say you always bring yourself no matter where you go. In Frank’s case it’s one claustrophobic sequence after to another.
Edith tracks him down to the convention hall. Frank reveals the truth about the incident at the P.O.W. camp, and that is why he's being hunted. Edith wants to call the police or a veteran's hospital. He tells her she can't do it. If she does the truth will come out and they will have to live with his shame and betrayal. "This (his betrayal) will be a nice legacy for our children." When she persists he shouts at her; "Do I have to spell it out for you? Do I have to draw a picture? I was an informer. I betrayed my men. They were dead and I was eating, and maybe that's all I did it for to save one man-me!"
When Frank is done with his confession, she turns her back and leaves for home. Ann, (who has followed Joe to California) has waited for her. She tells Edith that Joe knows Frank's location. It turns out Joe knows more than Frank's location; he's already there and has found him . They fight; Enley escapes and flees for safety.
Frank flees into the bowels of the Bunker Hill section of Los Angeles. With its steep stairs and iconic Angel's Flight Bunker Hill has been featured in many noirs. In Act of Violence it is more than a backdrop but rather a major character in the film. Frank enters a bar and meets Pat (Mary Astor) an aging prostitute who thinks she has found a date.
She takes him to her room. Enley's despondency is evident. To his tale of woe she says, "There's no law saying you gotta be happy". To Pat, Enley's problems can be either women trouble or money problems. Money's not a problem he tells her, and her eyes light up; "With money you can buy anything". Enley tells her to call Parkson and offer him the business worth $20,000 ( $217,000 today). Parkson's response has a chilling effect on this woman who's been around a few blocks in her life. "He's laughing." she tells him and for Frank it's like a judge passing a death sentence.
Frank's descent into the depths of despair is not done. She takes him to an after hours bar and introduces him to Gavery (Taylor Holmes), a lawyer (probably disbarred). She lets him know the 'mark' has money and not to forget who brought him. Gavery will help him but would like to know the problem. Pat is taken aback when she learns what Enley has done but as with all the female characters, and in stark contrast to the men, is sympathetic. "He didn't mean it what happened over there. He just made a mistake. One mistake in his whole life. Everybody makes mistakes."
Gavery has a solution. Enley doesn't immediately catch on but Pat does.
"Frank, you don't want any part of this. You don't want murder."
"No," (and to Gavery) "what do you think I am?"
Gavery's answer is brutal.
"You're the same man you were in Germany. You did it once you can do it again. What do you care about one more man. You've sent ten men already."
It's as if Enley is back at the P.O.W. camp being interrogated by his captors and offered a way to end his suffering. He runs from the bar. Astor and hit man Johnny (Barry Kroger) chase after him.
She takes him to her room. Enley's despondency is evident. To his tale of woe she says, "There's no law saying you gotta be happy". To Pat, Enley's problems can be either women trouble or money problems. Money's not a problem he tells her, and her eyes light up; "With money you can buy anything". Enley tells her to call Parkson and offer him the business worth $20,000 ( $217,000 today). Parkson's response has a chilling effect on this woman who's been around a few blocks in her life. "He's laughing." she tells him and for Frank it's like a judge passing a death sentence.
Frank's descent into the depths of despair is not done. She takes him to an after hours bar and introduces him to Gavery (Taylor Holmes), a lawyer (probably disbarred). She lets him know the 'mark' has money and not to forget who brought him. Gavery will help him but would like to know the problem. Pat is taken aback when she learns what Enley has done but as with all the female characters, and in stark contrast to the men, is sympathetic. "He didn't mean it what happened over there. He just made a mistake. One mistake in his whole life. Everybody makes mistakes."
Gavery has a solution. Enley doesn't immediately catch on but Pat does.
"Frank, you don't want any part of this. You don't want murder."
"No," (and to Gavery) "what do you think I am?"
Gavery's answer is brutal.
"You're the same man you were in Germany. You did it once you can do it again. What do you care about one more man. You've sent ten men already."
It's as if Enley is back at the P.O.W. camp being interrogated by his captors and offered a way to end his suffering. He runs from the bar. Astor and hit man Johnny (Barry Kroger) chase after him.
Enley stops at the entrance of a tunnel. There is no light at the end. It leads only to a world of more despair. The top left photo at the end of this section brings to mind "When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at you." What stares back at Enley him is the abject emptiness, frailty and his lack of inner strength.
A post-war life with a young beautiful wife who adores him, a young child and probably more to come a successful business and respect among his community have salved whatever nightmares or misgivings he may have had from his war-time experiences. They were all for nothing when Parkson arrived in town.
Flash backs are a common film noir trope. As he runs down the tunnel he recalls his betrayal and yells "NO! NO!" at the top of his lungs. And since I may be going overboard with this review let me continue as I say there is a closeup of Van Heflin that brings to mind Edvard Munch's "The Scream."
The tunnel is the gateway from his Earthly purgatory to his Earthly hell. The tunnel leads to a railroad yard. He stands on the tracks and faces an onrushing train. At the last second he jumps off then drops to his knees and cries. At this point Enley is more than broken. He is a pathetic human being without dignity; is this how it was at the prison camp? Perhaps it is at this point he fears his marriage, his family, his job were only facades and he really is the same man he was in Germany.
A post-war life with a young beautiful wife who adores him, a young child and probably more to come a successful business and respect among his community have salved whatever nightmares or misgivings he may have had from his war-time experiences. They were all for nothing when Parkson arrived in town.
Flash backs are a common film noir trope. As he runs down the tunnel he recalls his betrayal and yells "NO! NO!" at the top of his lungs. And since I may be going overboard with this review let me continue as I say there is a closeup of Van Heflin that brings to mind Edvard Munch's "The Scream."
The tunnel is the gateway from his Earthly purgatory to his Earthly hell. The tunnel leads to a railroad yard. He stands on the tracks and faces an onrushing train. At the last second he jumps off then drops to his knees and cries. At this point Enley is more than broken. He is a pathetic human being without dignity; is this how it was at the prison camp? Perhaps it is at this point he fears his marriage, his family, his job were only facades and he really is the same man he was in Germany.
Pat and Johnny bring him to her room. He is weak, broken, not hungry but drunk. Johnny sets up a meeting between Enley and Parkinson. Johnny will wait in ambush.
The next morning Enley wakes from his alcoholic blackout. Pat has had her share of kicks and packs to leave as quickly as she can. She tells him about the scheme to send the last of his men to death.
Enley has led a good productive life so why should that be nullified by a moment of weakness? If he does nothing to stop Johnny he can continue to live his life as a bright and shining lie. He also knows Parkson’s death could not erase what happened in the camp. Parkson's murder will only prove him to be, as Gavery said, the same man he was in Germany. Ironically that same moment of weakness in Pat's room where he agreed to an assassination has also given him an opportunity for redemption.
The next morning Enley wakes from his alcoholic blackout. Pat has had her share of kicks and packs to leave as quickly as she can. She tells him about the scheme to send the last of his men to death.
Enley has led a good productive life so why should that be nullified by a moment of weakness? If he does nothing to stop Johnny he can continue to live his life as a bright and shining lie. He also knows Parkson’s death could not erase what happened in the camp. Parkson's murder will only prove him to be, as Gavery said, the same man he was in Germany. Ironically that same moment of weakness in Pat's room where he agreed to an assassination has also given him an opportunity for redemption.
The often used noir trope of the female harridan and the insecure post-war male are not found in this film. The veterans, knowingly or not, depended upon the strength, comfort, support and nurture of the women. "The Best Years of Our Lives." is ostensibly about three returning vets adjusting to civilian life. It is equally about the women in their lives; Myrna Loy, Teresa Wright and Cathy O'Donnell.
Janet Leigh was 21 years old, 19 years Heflin's junior when the film was made. This obvious age difference works well in the movie. She is the youngest and least worldly of all the characters. Frank is still her romantic hero. When Frank reveals what happened she tells him how she thought he was the greatest man ever and adds:
"Now I know you're like everybody else. You've got your faults, weaknesses."
Edith says, "You can't suffer all your life for one mistake." Which, coincidentally or not, is essentially what Pat tells Gavery.
She's wrong of course. It's a common assumption made by the hopelessly naïve or the very young and of it's especially not the case in the world of noir. When she persists for a reason he tells her:
"There's a lot of things that happen in a war that you wouldn't understand. I don't understand them my self."
Edith's hero has shown himself to have feet of clay. She admits things will be different but she still loves loves him and still wants to be his wife. It will be more of a co-dependency than of her accepting the practice of that period of the wife in sub-ordinating herself to her husband. There is something similar to this in the final scene of Pitfall.
Janet Leigh was 21 years old, 19 years Heflin's junior when the film was made. This obvious age difference works well in the movie. She is the youngest and least worldly of all the characters. Frank is still her romantic hero. When Frank reveals what happened she tells him how she thought he was the greatest man ever and adds:
"Now I know you're like everybody else. You've got your faults, weaknesses."
Edith says, "You can't suffer all your life for one mistake." Which, coincidentally or not, is essentially what Pat tells Gavery.
She's wrong of course. It's a common assumption made by the hopelessly naïve or the very young and of it's especially not the case in the world of noir. When she persists for a reason he tells her:
"There's a lot of things that happen in a war that you wouldn't understand. I don't understand them my self."
Edith's hero has shown himself to have feet of clay. She admits things will be different but she still loves loves him and still wants to be his wife. It will be more of a co-dependency than of her accepting the practice of that period of the wife in sub-ordinating herself to her husband. There is something similar to this in the final scene of Pitfall.
Phyliss Thaxter is Ann, Parkson's girl friend. Ms. Thaxter was often cast as the dutiful, attractive, though not stunningly beautiful, wife or girl friend. There is a scene when she goes to his hotel room and finds him sitting with a gun at his hand. She pleads with him not to go through with his plan.
Ann insists that his hatred has crippled his mind as well as-she does not finish-but Parkson looks up at her. There is a look of bitterness but then acknowledgement that she has spoken the truth. We see the flicker of a facial gesture that he might be changing his mind. Then the phone rings. Ryan almost imperceptibly shifts focus from Ann to the phone. And on the second ring gives a slight smile. It is the phone call he's been waiting for; Enley is going to meet him at the station. Parkson's hate for Enley has triumphed over his love for Ann. He said so as much when he boarded the bus for California. She reminds him of how he said her loved, and Parkson replied, "I guess I don't love you enough."
In that hotel room when he had a choice between love and hate he chose hate. This is a scene of brilliant non-verbal acting by Robert Ryan. It's hard to find an actor who says and evokes so much emotion without saying a word than Robert Ryan.
The final scenes could have been taken straight from a Western. Van Heflin sits pensively at home while his wife knits. He watches the clock tick off the minutes then the seconds until he has to leave.
At the railway station Heflin walks past a railroad baggage wagon. The wind blows away leaves and loose papers. Ryan waits from the corner of a building. He calls out to Heflin and like two gunfighters they face each other at a distance. Enley says he came to warn Parkson about Johnny and then Parkson can do what he wants. They walk towards each other. Johnny is parked a short distance away and watches Parkson approach. As Parkson nears he shoots but Enley jumps in front and takes the bullet with Parkson's name on it. Though wounded he fights with Johnny over control of the car. It crashes into a street lamp and both are killed.
A policeman checks for vital signs and pronounces him dead. Parkson wants to be sure. He bends on one knee and feels for a pulse and we see a very slight smile on his face. As people rush to the scene Parkson tells Ann, "I didn't' do it," he says, "I didn't do it." The war is over for Enley, but for Parkson?
Redemption is often cited as a noir trait, and Enley's redemption began in a moment of drunken weakness when he set up another of his crew for death. It also afforded him the opportunity to answer if he was the same person he was in Germany. He chose self-sacrifice. Enley found closure but Parkson?
Ann insists that his hatred has crippled his mind as well as-she does not finish-but Parkson looks up at her. There is a look of bitterness but then acknowledgement that she has spoken the truth. We see the flicker of a facial gesture that he might be changing his mind. Then the phone rings. Ryan almost imperceptibly shifts focus from Ann to the phone. And on the second ring gives a slight smile. It is the phone call he's been waiting for; Enley is going to meet him at the station. Parkson's hate for Enley has triumphed over his love for Ann. He said so as much when he boarded the bus for California. She reminds him of how he said her loved, and Parkson replied, "I guess I don't love you enough."
In that hotel room when he had a choice between love and hate he chose hate. This is a scene of brilliant non-verbal acting by Robert Ryan. It's hard to find an actor who says and evokes so much emotion without saying a word than Robert Ryan.
The final scenes could have been taken straight from a Western. Van Heflin sits pensively at home while his wife knits. He watches the clock tick off the minutes then the seconds until he has to leave.
At the railway station Heflin walks past a railroad baggage wagon. The wind blows away leaves and loose papers. Ryan waits from the corner of a building. He calls out to Heflin and like two gunfighters they face each other at a distance. Enley says he came to warn Parkson about Johnny and then Parkson can do what he wants. They walk towards each other. Johnny is parked a short distance away and watches Parkson approach. As Parkson nears he shoots but Enley jumps in front and takes the bullet with Parkson's name on it. Though wounded he fights with Johnny over control of the car. It crashes into a street lamp and both are killed.
A policeman checks for vital signs and pronounces him dead. Parkson wants to be sure. He bends on one knee and feels for a pulse and we see a very slight smile on his face. As people rush to the scene Parkson tells Ann, "I didn't' do it," he says, "I didn't do it." The war is over for Enley, but for Parkson?
Redemption is often cited as a noir trait, and Enley's redemption began in a moment of drunken weakness when he set up another of his crew for death. It also afforded him the opportunity to answer if he was the same person he was in Germany. He chose self-sacrifice. Enley found closure but Parkson?
Van Heflin does a magnificent job in a very difficult role. He makes Enley an empathetic and sympathetic figure. His great performance makes it easy for us to feel Enley's torment, anguish and fatalism. Up unto his confession, that dispels any extenuating circumstances for his actions, we still hope there might be a way out for him.
In this photo Enley holds on to the hand rails for literally dear life. He cannot go back with Edith and once she leaves he can only follow the steps downward to where it takes him.
In this photo Enley holds on to the hand rails for literally dear life. He cannot go back with Edith and once she leaves he can only follow the steps downward to where it takes him.
As masterful as Heflin's tormented hunted Frank Enley more so was Robert Ryan as the tormented hunter. I cannot think of an actor who projects menace more effectively than Robert Ryan. Joe Parkson is not a giggling psychopath, a deranged gangster or sadistic murderer but rather a person imbued with an unshakeable zealousness that his cause is morally right and any actions done for that cause is justifiable.
We see this in "On Dangerous Ground" and "Crossfire." In the former he plays Jim Wilson a bitter cop with an ends justify the means methodology of law enforcement. In the latter he plays Montgomery the Jew-hater. Montgomery is not content to hate but feels it necessary to convert others to his cause. Montgomery is as assured of the righteousness of his cause as Jim Wilson is of his. There are a couple of roles that were tailor made for Ryan. I've no problem with Raymond Massey as the abolitionist/domestic terrorist John Brown, nor Gregory Peck as Ahab. But in my opinion Ryan would have been perfect in both roles. John Brown and Captain Ahab were well educated learned men who crossed over from passion to zealousness with dehumanizing results.
Robert Ryan was well educated, learned, passionate and steadfast in his beliefs. One gets the feeling he did not suffer fools lightly and conversely could have seen the dark side to those admirable traits. Jim Wilson and Joe Parkson come across as the first person you'd like to have on your side and the last you'd like to have against you. I don't think this is a far stretch from the actor Robert Ryan.
We see this in "On Dangerous Ground" and "Crossfire." In the former he plays Jim Wilson a bitter cop with an ends justify the means methodology of law enforcement. In the latter he plays Montgomery the Jew-hater. Montgomery is not content to hate but feels it necessary to convert others to his cause. Montgomery is as assured of the righteousness of his cause as Jim Wilson is of his. There are a couple of roles that were tailor made for Ryan. I've no problem with Raymond Massey as the abolitionist/domestic terrorist John Brown, nor Gregory Peck as Ahab. But in my opinion Ryan would have been perfect in both roles. John Brown and Captain Ahab were well educated learned men who crossed over from passion to zealousness with dehumanizing results.
Robert Ryan was well educated, learned, passionate and steadfast in his beliefs. One gets the feeling he did not suffer fools lightly and conversely could have seen the dark side to those admirable traits. Jim Wilson and Joe Parkson come across as the first person you'd like to have on your side and the last you'd like to have against you. I don't think this is a far stretch from the actor Robert Ryan.
Enley has found closure but what of Parkson? He quickly volunteers to tell Edith Enley the news. But why? Does anyone actually believe Edith wants Parkson to tell her that her husband is dead? He had told her he wasn't worth worrying about and she'd be better off without him. He's probably the last person on Earth she'd want to see.
It might have been a sense of military duty. It was Parkson's job as an officer and the only survivor of the aborted escape to bring the bad news to the bereaved, just as it had been Enley's when he had to write to the loved ones of those lost in combat under his command.
Will Parkson be able to live his own life now that his duties are complete? Unbridled hatred had blinded him to almost everything decent except for Ann's love. Will Enley's death allow him to love? Ryan's subtle, remarkable performance doesn't give much to go on either way. In my opinion Enley's death has given him only a momentarily respite of peace.
When we think of the problems faced by men returning from the war, look no further than Act of Violence. Enley and Parkson are two examples of what Audie Murphy meant when he said, "No soldier ever really survives a war."
It might have been a sense of military duty. It was Parkson's job as an officer and the only survivor of the aborted escape to bring the bad news to the bereaved, just as it had been Enley's when he had to write to the loved ones of those lost in combat under his command.
Will Parkson be able to live his own life now that his duties are complete? Unbridled hatred had blinded him to almost everything decent except for Ann's love. Will Enley's death allow him to love? Ryan's subtle, remarkable performance doesn't give much to go on either way. In my opinion Enley's death has given him only a momentarily respite of peace.
When we think of the problems faced by men returning from the war, look no further than Act of Violence. Enley and Parkson are two examples of what Audie Murphy meant when he said, "No soldier ever really survives a war."