Dead Reckoning (1947)

Strong and Moving!

Plot so thin, it passes unnoticed.

Good , But It Is Overrated By Some

Clever and entertaining enough to recommend even to members of the 1%

Rip Murdock (Humphrey Bogart) seeks the help of Father Logan as he recounts the last few days. Paratroopers Rip and Johnny Drake are sent to Washington to receive the Medal of Honor. Johnny seems concerned upon hearing the news and goes AWOL when the newspapers come to take his picture. Rip starts investigating and follows him to Gulf City. He discovers that Johnny's real name is John Joseph Preston and he's accused of murdering wealthy Chandler. There's a charred body with a melted ring that's probably Johnny. He talks to witness bartender Louis Ord, and Chandler's wife Coral. Coral keeps losing when the dice keep coming up 7 and 11. Rip takes over and wins back everything plus $16k more. The club owner Martinelli drugs his drink and he wakes up in his room with the dead body of Louis Ord.This does have Humphrey Bogart in his natural hard-boiled noirish thriller. Lizabeth Scott is a second rate siren. She has a tendency to smile which takes away from the tension. She also needs to control her hair. There are a couple funny moments when it flies in her face. Her chemistry with Bogie isn't great. The directing is not great. This lays out a fine setup but the story drags along in expositions. The writing has plenty of hard dialogue but the story struggles to pick up steam after a nice first act. There are a few too many twists in the end. This is mostly for Bogie aficionados only after finishing off his classics.

. . . MALTESE FALCON wannabe, with Humphrey Bogart co-star Lizabeth Scott an equally silly and cheap Lauren Bacall knock-off. She's not even a Mary Astor, not meriting the hangman's noose (an anachronism in FALCON, as Sam Spade's California had moved on to gas already). Scott's "Coral" or "Dusty" or "Mike" or whomever is a sleaze from Detroit, a dive known as much for its muscle women (think Aretha Franklin or Madonna) as its muscle cars. An alluring magnet for brain-damaged guys, most viewers will care very little what happens to Coral. If you can imagine FALCON without the black bird, Astor, Peter Lorre, and Sidney Greenstreet, you still won't be picturing how wrong-headed DEAD RECKONING is. It's full of dead ends--a coded letter, a jumping padre, a Congressional Medal of Honor winner are all dropped like hot potatoes in favor of a soap opera love yarn that all but the most obtuse know will lead nowhere. DEAD RECKONING is not unlike a patchwork quilt hastily sewn together by a blind-folded gent with one hand tied behind his back who's never take home economics. Poor Bogie is left grasping at straws here.

Superb film noir incorporates the poetic, metaphoric dialogue that Bogart delivers so well, and the husky brogue of femme fatale Lizabeth Scott, as a sad-eyed singer and magnet for murder. Bogart is a returned serviceman who, along with GI buddy Prince, are about to receive medals for gallantry in the field of combat. But before they can be awarded, Prince does a runner, concealing a sinister background that ultimately leads Bogart to follow his trail. Along the way, he encounters the enigmatic Dusty (Scott - very Bacall 'esque) a reluctant acquaintance of corrupt casino owner Martinelli (Carnovsky) and his ape 'friend' Krause (Miller). Several plot twists later, Bogart finds himself a target, surrounded by villains, desperate to identify the puppet master.Great use of lighting, genuine-looking sets, and sympathetic supporting performances (Charles Cane as the beleaguered Lt Kincaid is a likable adversary) complement the might of Bogart and Scott, their screen presence all consuming. The scene in which Bogart and Scott take their last ride is a cracker, but unfortunately, the theatrical death scene that follows, isn't so engaging.Carnovsky and Miller make an odd couple of villains, but both equally memorable in their own brand - Carnovsky, the reluctant aggressor, composed and calculated, Miller, the antithesis of composure, ready to crack at the first opportunity. His penchant for 'music' when delivering beatings is a novel twist and the hiding he unleashes is slow and sadistic. As with a number of other film noir, director Cromwell has employed offbeat, unique aspects for distinction; here, most of the narrative is delivered by way of Bogart relaying a retrospective to a priest, as he desperately searches for an escape strategy. It's riveting stuff all the way, perhaps only denied greatness by a (in relative terms) weak conclusion.Classic film noir, not as well appreciated as "Dark Passage" or "The Big Sleep" (a couple of my other favourites), but highly entertaining.

Don't you just love those film noir titles that just reach out and grab your interest, despite having no direct relevance to the movie content...? Obviously, like the pulp fiction book-source, it's a device to attract casual interest from passers-by looking at cinema-hoardings or book displays. This is definitely one of those and moreover director John Cromwell, not one I'd regard as being in the Hollywood pantheon, somehow manages to get his name above the title too.Good for him, because this is a cracking and mostly pulsating film noir, led by the inimitable Bogart again immersing himself in a meaty role, ostensibly a demobbed army captain but evidentially a sub-Sam Spade type adventurer who gets up to his neck in danger as he attempts to track down his army-buddy-with-a-secret Johnny and taking in encounters with a gambling-den boss, his hired muscle who gets up close and personal in a far from pleasant way with Bogart's face and Lizabeth Scott as the femme fatale playing both ends as you would expect.The movie starts with a straight-away drop-in to the action leading up, you just know it, to a lengthy flashback from Bogie, involving a fairly contrived unburdening of not quite his soul to an ex-forces padre. The background story is raw and pacy enough to hold your interest pretty much all the way through with taut and edgy dialogue, natch, only lapsing a little when Scott & Bogart apparently hitch their wagons together and get all starry-eyed. Not to worry, a quick look at your watch tells you there are still 20 minutes or so to go and you know you're in for an exciting guns (and fires) - blazing finish.Bogart's great as per...and Scott is just fine for the most part in her Bacall-clone part, all smoky eyes and voice, even getting into a noir-trademark white outfit (a la Stanwyck & Turner) for the second half, although she acts a pretty poor deathbed scene in the final reel and can't lip-synch her early-on torch song for toffee. The villains don't exactly come across as villainous however, which lightens the tension a tad, the henchman in particular wimping out when Bogart sets fire to the boss's apartment - you'll laugh out loud (as I did) at his pathetic scream as he exits through a window.Nevertheless, the movie crackles along satisfactorily until its downbeat er... reckoning and employs and respects enough noir conventions to keep aficionados happy...including me.