I was really impressed by the first five minutes of "Fear In The Night." Then the rest of the film happened. My short take: Mood alone is never enough.
Film lovers enjoy debating whether an old movie qualifies as "film noir." No need here. From the murky circumstances to a sleepwalking main character to constant dream sequences cutting in abruptly, this is noir, alright. It even has keywords "fear" and "night" in the title.
But man does this film draaaaag.
Vince Greyson (DeForest Kelley) is a bank teller who wakes up to the gradual realization that he just killed someone. Who and where, he doesn't know. But he does know he has marks on his neck, blood on his wrist, and a strange key in his pocket that weren't there before. Enlisting the help of police detective Cliff Herlihy (Paul Kelly) who happens to be his brother in law, Greyson discovers what it is to have "an honest man's conscience... in a murderer's body."
A great premise, yes, from a short story by Cornell Woolrich (billed as "William Irish" in the credits), and with some smashing effects work. But the story wastes too much of its short running time on conversations between Greyson and Herlihy about whether he imagined it. An intrusive narration by Greyson explains what we are seeing on screen, as if director Maxwell Shane had no confidence visuals alone would do the trick. I suspect this was done in editing after the producers realized how hard the film would be to follow otherwise.
Of the leads, DeForest Kelley gives an uneven performance. At times he is effective in portraying real fear and guilt; other times he overacts badly. Much of the time he sleepwalks, because that's what the script calls for. Did they want a Kafkaesque anti-hero or more of a conventional everyman rising to a challenge? He suffers from a lack of clear direction.
Paul Kelly is much better, a studio pro who radiates some needed strength and reason. But he is saddled with some dumb moments, too. Like why does he get the bright idea of sending his shaky brother- in-law into a dangerous situation without police backup?
When Greyson tells his story, Herlihy's first response is to wave it off: "You've just been stretching your nerves thin, kid." Then, after Greyson takes him to the house where it happened, Herlihy transforms into Dirty Harry, slapping the poor kid around and calling him "lower than the lowest rat we ever brought in for knifing someone in an alley." I give Kelly credit for making his about-face play at all, but it leaves a weird aftertaste.
I don't hate this movie; the visual dynamics are strong throughout. Shane's track record was pedestrian, but that opening suggests real vision at the helm. How did they get all those mirrored-room shots without exposing the camera? We watch Greyson stumble around, looking submerged as he fights with a man who seems as asleep as he. Then the scene breaks up, and there's this fantastic swirl of light and fog that literally leaves him dumped on his bed.
After that, though, you feel Shane struggle to match the surrealism of those opening moments. Occasionally, he succeeds, like in a harrowing episode where Greyson finds himself on a ledge, fighting Herlihy to throw himself over. More often, the results are just silly, like Greyson fainting at the sight of nail polish on his wrist.
The conclusion is especially rushed and unsatisfying, featuring the most unbelievably powerful mesmerist since Dr. Caligari hung up his shingle. Everything is tidily resolved, including Greyson's ridiculously one-sided relationship with a long-suffering girlfriend.
Good film noir plays with convention, but not by discarding such things as logic and convincing motives. "Fear In The Night" does, making it a noir film only a die-hard noir lover could love.
Film lovers enjoy debating whether an old movie qualifies as "film noir." No need here. From the murky circumstances to a sleepwalking main character to constant dream sequences cutting in abruptly, this is noir, alright. It even has keywords "fear" and "night" in the title.
But man does this film draaaaag.
Vince Greyson (DeForest Kelley) is a bank teller who wakes up to the gradual realization that he just killed someone. Who and where, he doesn't know. But he does know he has marks on his neck, blood on his wrist, and a strange key in his pocket that weren't there before. Enlisting the help of police detective Cliff Herlihy (Paul Kelly) who happens to be his brother in law, Greyson discovers what it is to have "an honest man's conscience... in a murderer's body."
A great premise, yes, from a short story by Cornell Woolrich (billed as "William Irish" in the credits), and with some smashing effects work. But the story wastes too much of its short running time on conversations between Greyson and Herlihy about whether he imagined it. An intrusive narration by Greyson explains what we are seeing on screen, as if director Maxwell Shane had no confidence visuals alone would do the trick. I suspect this was done in editing after the producers realized how hard the film would be to follow otherwise.
Of the leads, DeForest Kelley gives an uneven performance. At times he is effective in portraying real fear and guilt; other times he overacts badly. Much of the time he sleepwalks, because that's what the script calls for. Did they want a Kafkaesque anti-hero or more of a conventional everyman rising to a challenge? He suffers from a lack of clear direction.
Paul Kelly is much better, a studio pro who radiates some needed strength and reason. But he is saddled with some dumb moments, too. Like why does he get the bright idea of sending his shaky brother- in-law into a dangerous situation without police backup?
When Greyson tells his story, Herlihy's first response is to wave it off: "You've just been stretching your nerves thin, kid." Then, after Greyson takes him to the house where it happened, Herlihy transforms into Dirty Harry, slapping the poor kid around and calling him "lower than the lowest rat we ever brought in for knifing someone in an alley." I give Kelly credit for making his about-face play at all, but it leaves a weird aftertaste.
I don't hate this movie; the visual dynamics are strong throughout. Shane's track record was pedestrian, but that opening suggests real vision at the helm. How did they get all those mirrored-room shots without exposing the camera? We watch Greyson stumble around, looking submerged as he fights with a man who seems as asleep as he. Then the scene breaks up, and there's this fantastic swirl of light and fog that literally leaves him dumped on his bed.
After that, though, you feel Shane struggle to match the surrealism of those opening moments. Occasionally, he succeeds, like in a harrowing episode where Greyson finds himself on a ledge, fighting Herlihy to throw himself over. More often, the results are just silly, like Greyson fainting at the sight of nail polish on his wrist.
The conclusion is especially rushed and unsatisfying, featuring the most unbelievably powerful mesmerist since Dr. Caligari hung up his shingle. Everything is tidily resolved, including Greyson's ridiculously one-sided relationship with a long-suffering girlfriend.
Good film noir plays with convention, but not by discarding such things as logic and convincing motives. "Fear In The Night" does, making it a noir film only a die-hard noir lover could love.