I don't know where the comparisons to "The Third Man" come from. This movie and Carol Reed's masterpiece have little in common except the use of smuggling as a crime. This movie is a little slow at first but engages the viewer after the first ten minutes or so. Nothing much more than that.
A diverting post-war tale of a gang of British criminals led by Narcy. Something to do with smuggling and robberies. Returned and demobilized RAF hero Trevor Howard joins them out of desperation. Narcy doesn't like "amateurs" and frames Howard for a murder. Howard escapes and, aided by another "amateur", the pouty and sensual blond, Sally Grey, he spends the rest of his time trying to track the gang members down and get them to spill the beans about his innocence. They, in turn, are anxious for him to be silenced. There is a climactic brawl between Howard and the gang members in the Valhalla Casket Company. The wind up is that Narcy falls off a roof and is killed without confessing to Howard's innocence. Howard is sent off to jail again and Grey shouts that she'll wait for him.
Man, these settings are seedy and so are the people. They're cynical, greedy, totally lacking in compassion. The dialog is -- I hope -- intentionally and amusingly overblown. Cop to Narcy, referring to Narcy's bodyguard: "I see you brought Frankenstein along." Narcy: "He's working his way through college." And, later, Narcy to a sobbing young woman: "Shut your trap. There's a draft." And Howard's refrain: "I believe you; thousands wouldn't." And then there are the names, Soapy, Aggie, Curly, Fidgety Phil. It's as if the writer and director were doing a semi-serious parody of American films noir, except that when this was shot there were no such things as films noir. They may have had the earlier gangster movies in mind -- "Little Caesar" and the like -- or it may have been a case of independent invention.
I will now point out two differences between "I Became a Fugitive" and American crime dramas of the period. One -- and I find this morally offensive -- is that the British movie makes use of the word "damn" -- twice. It made my hackles rise. How would the Brits have felt if we upright, God-fearing, Americans had thrown "bloody" about in a recklessly adjectival manner, eh? "Bloody" -- now there's a silly taboo word if I ever heard one. And don't even get me started on "bum" and "bottom" and "Bristol." Here's another difference. In this dark British crime drama, hardly anybody has a gun! When the gang is together, planning to murder Howard, Narcy has to ask who's carrying a piece. You, Curly? "Nah, I always use me toothpick." (Switchblade knife.) Finally Narcy manages to locate a gun -- not even a snub-nosed .38 -- and hands it to one of the gang who, get this, refuses to promise he'll use it. The gun is fired during the climactic fight, but only once deliberately, and it misses. When Howard is holding the loaded automatic and the knife wielder is charging him, Howard flings the pistol at his assailant and it bounces from his forehead. In a good, old-fashioned, honest American movie, that climactic fight would end up with a warehouse awash in blood, with Uzis puncturing every puncturable object within miles, with dead bodies hanging from meat hooks, eyeballs rolling around on the floor like marbles.
I'm kidding about all that, but what really was something of a surprise at the end was when Scotland Yard carts Howard off to the slams and he's saying good-bye to the dewy eyed blond who loves him. Since no one has admitted that Howard was framed, he's off to serve out his original sentence -- and more. The Inspector gives only a hint that he might escape this punishment. It was surprising because, after all, Howard has killed no one, is guilty of nothing more than small-time smuggling, and has been willingly instrumental in helping the police capture the gang. On top of that, he's presumably willing to testify against them in court, which will close a few open cases. It's believable but a touch grim.
The director handles everything pretty deftly but has a tendency to have the actor stare directly into the camera when making a pronouncement. And these aren't point-of-view shots. They're just people speaking to a lens. Howard is good, Gray is bland, and Griffith Jones, who plays Narcy, is reduced to a stereotype with his gangsta talk. He always sneers, orders helpless women to be beaten with heavy belts, never says thanks, and shows no affection or unusual habits. He has no redeeming features and no interesting ones either. I don't think he was meant to play the role clownishly but that's how it comes across.
It isn't badly done but it's unjust to compare it to "The Third Man" or even noirs like "Cry of the City."
A diverting post-war tale of a gang of British criminals led by Narcy. Something to do with smuggling and robberies. Returned and demobilized RAF hero Trevor Howard joins them out of desperation. Narcy doesn't like "amateurs" and frames Howard for a murder. Howard escapes and, aided by another "amateur", the pouty and sensual blond, Sally Grey, he spends the rest of his time trying to track the gang members down and get them to spill the beans about his innocence. They, in turn, are anxious for him to be silenced. There is a climactic brawl between Howard and the gang members in the Valhalla Casket Company. The wind up is that Narcy falls off a roof and is killed without confessing to Howard's innocence. Howard is sent off to jail again and Grey shouts that she'll wait for him.
Man, these settings are seedy and so are the people. They're cynical, greedy, totally lacking in compassion. The dialog is -- I hope -- intentionally and amusingly overblown. Cop to Narcy, referring to Narcy's bodyguard: "I see you brought Frankenstein along." Narcy: "He's working his way through college." And, later, Narcy to a sobbing young woman: "Shut your trap. There's a draft." And Howard's refrain: "I believe you; thousands wouldn't." And then there are the names, Soapy, Aggie, Curly, Fidgety Phil. It's as if the writer and director were doing a semi-serious parody of American films noir, except that when this was shot there were no such things as films noir. They may have had the earlier gangster movies in mind -- "Little Caesar" and the like -- or it may have been a case of independent invention.
I will now point out two differences between "I Became a Fugitive" and American crime dramas of the period. One -- and I find this morally offensive -- is that the British movie makes use of the word "damn" -- twice. It made my hackles rise. How would the Brits have felt if we upright, God-fearing, Americans had thrown "bloody" about in a recklessly adjectival manner, eh? "Bloody" -- now there's a silly taboo word if I ever heard one. And don't even get me started on "bum" and "bottom" and "Bristol." Here's another difference. In this dark British crime drama, hardly anybody has a gun! When the gang is together, planning to murder Howard, Narcy has to ask who's carrying a piece. You, Curly? "Nah, I always use me toothpick." (Switchblade knife.) Finally Narcy manages to locate a gun -- not even a snub-nosed .38 -- and hands it to one of the gang who, get this, refuses to promise he'll use it. The gun is fired during the climactic fight, but only once deliberately, and it misses. When Howard is holding the loaded automatic and the knife wielder is charging him, Howard flings the pistol at his assailant and it bounces from his forehead. In a good, old-fashioned, honest American movie, that climactic fight would end up with a warehouse awash in blood, with Uzis puncturing every puncturable object within miles, with dead bodies hanging from meat hooks, eyeballs rolling around on the floor like marbles.
I'm kidding about all that, but what really was something of a surprise at the end was when Scotland Yard carts Howard off to the slams and he's saying good-bye to the dewy eyed blond who loves him. Since no one has admitted that Howard was framed, he's off to serve out his original sentence -- and more. The Inspector gives only a hint that he might escape this punishment. It was surprising because, after all, Howard has killed no one, is guilty of nothing more than small-time smuggling, and has been willingly instrumental in helping the police capture the gang. On top of that, he's presumably willing to testify against them in court, which will close a few open cases. It's believable but a touch grim.
The director handles everything pretty deftly but has a tendency to have the actor stare directly into the camera when making a pronouncement. And these aren't point-of-view shots. They're just people speaking to a lens. Howard is good, Gray is bland, and Griffith Jones, who plays Narcy, is reduced to a stereotype with his gangsta talk. He always sneers, orders helpless women to be beaten with heavy belts, never says thanks, and shows no affection or unusual habits. He has no redeeming features and no interesting ones either. I don't think he was meant to play the role clownishly but that's how it comes across.
It isn't badly done but it's unjust to compare it to "The Third Man" or even noirs like "Cry of the City."