“Out of the Past” (1947)
There’s perhaps no genre, maybe apart from screwball comedy, as closely associated with the Golden Age of Hollywood, and as heavily scrutinized as film noir. So, a film like horror maestro Jacques Tourneur‘s “Out of the Past,” which embodies every single one of noir’s expressive storytelling and filmmaking conventions, should feel at at least a little old hat. But even after repeated viewings it remains heady as catnip, its tangled storylines, stark lighting, graphic compositions and fatale-est ever femme (Jane Greer FTW every single time) never give up all their secrets. And all this fabulous coal-grit texture is anchored by Mitchum’s central turn as another noir archetype — the low-rent but honorable Private Eye whose code can withstand any temptation bar that of a faithless dame. His Jeff Bailey is essentially in the Chandler/Hammett/Spillane mold, and here Mitchum is aided by a top-notch supporting cast, from Kirk Douglas‘ early role as Bailey’s hoodlum employer/adversary, (with a higher-pitched voice than Douglas the star ever spoke in) to a touching Dickie Moore as the deaf kid loyal to him, to Greer as the irredeemable Bad Girl who’ll be his ruin, and Virginia Huston as her polar opposite — his potential savior. None of it makes much sense except on that deep, dirty, delicious level on which the best noir operates. Mitchum is so perfectly cast as the decent but self-loathing cynic betting high on one last roll of the dice, that it’s a wonder he didn’t solely occupy that role for the rest of his career.
“The Night Of The Hunter” (1955)
Over the years, “The Night Of The Hunter” has taken on an almost mythic status: the only film ever directed by the great British actor Charles Laughton.It was poorly reviewed, and flopped on release, only to discover an ever-growing audience years later, often landing on lists of the greatest movies of all time, and influencing everyone from Terrence Malick to David Lynch. It’s a great narrative, but one that often means that Robert Mitchum’s chilling central turn can be overlooked, which seems almost impossible given its undeniable brilliance. Based on a book by Davis Grubb and penned for the screen by Pulitzer Prize winner James Agee (“The African Queen”), it’s a sort of coming-of-age story about two young children, John (Billy Chapin) and Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce), whose new stepfather is the charismatic L-O-V-E/H-A-T-E tattooed, malevolent, murderous preacher Reverend Harry Powell (Mitchum), who’s chasing the hidden loot of their bank-robbing pa. Just about the last thing you’d expect to be directed by the classically trained Laughton (it’s like Kenneth Branagh making a Marvel movie or something…). The film is an elegant, terrifying slice of Southern Gothic, its photography drawing on classic expressionism, all chiaroscuro and looming atmosphere, but as immaculately made as it is, it draws much of its power from Mitchum at his most iconic. Dead-eyed and reptilian, it’s his most atypical performance and also draws on all the things he does best. Despite the film’s initial reception, it’s probably become the role he’s best known for.
“Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison” (1957)
The first of Mitchum’s three onscreen partnerships with Deborah Kerr, whose somewhat prim classiness was always a delicious foil to his laconic masculinity, “Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison” is a surprisingly gentle film, considering its hardboiled star and notorious hellion writer/director John Huston. Relying on similar chemistry to Huston’s own “The African Queen,” the film follows a marine, Allison, drifting alone on a raft in the Pacific, who comes upon a desert island whose only current occupant is Sister Angela, herself stranded there when the old priest she had accompanied died unexpectedly. As the odd couple bond over survival tactics and escape plans and then go into hiding when Japanese forces set up camp on the island, the relationship between the pretty novice (she has yet to take her final orders) and the bootstraps marine is tenderly drawn, with an almost hushed respect for the sweetness of their friendship. It was Kerr who picked up a Best Actress nomination (the screenplay also got a nod), and in fairness a woman whose vows survive a tanned, semi-naked Mitchum falling for her is a tough role to sell (srs), but in retrospect it really feels like Mitchum’s film. Allison is a wonderful creation, a rough diamond, conscious of his own luggishness compared to Sister Angela, first inarticulate about and then embarrassed by his own feelings of protectiveness toward her. So many of Mitchum’s roles relied on the menace he could project, but here his charisma serves a character of bone-deep goodness, he wears this role as lightly and naturally as any other he ever played.
