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***SPOILERS*** ***SPOILERS*** There must have been something in the air in the immediate postwar years that made night cities attractive settings for movies. A gaggle of nocturnal, urban films were made at that time, and not just in America. One of the most notable was Carol Reed's Odd Man Out, an English picture about a wounded gunman staggering through the streets of Belfast. In America it was the high noon, or more properly, high midnight, of film noir.
Crossfire isn't really film noir, but has the trappings of noir, though it uses them for its own aims, which have to do with bigotry. Directed by Edward Dmytryk, written by John Paxton, it was adapted from a novel by Richard Brooks. The book concerned the murder of a homosexual; in the movie the victim is changed to a Jew. Though filmed like a mystery there is little suspense in the film, as it is fairly obvious who the murderer is early on. What makes the film so watchable and beautiful is its evocation of a city, Washington, D.C., just after World War II, by some of the most gifted craftsmen working in films at that time. Unlike many night movies Crossfire is set mostly indoors: in police stations, rooming houses and all-night movie theaters. Soldiers are everywhere in the film, and most are itching to get back to their civilian lives. Yet one senses, from most of the men we meet, that their personalities have been so shaped by their military experience it's going to be tough for them to return to their old neighborhoods; for some maybe even impossible. They seem more bound to one another than to anything or anyone else.
Yet some men never truly bonded with anyone in the military. The murderer, Monty, is one such individual. One senses that he was never connected in his civilian life, either. He is a lone wolf who also needs people. Desperately alone, he has a sadistic streak a mile wide, and always needs someone nearby to be the butt of his jokes. The man he kills did him no harm, and was in fact a stranger to him. But once Monty figured out the man's religion, that was enough. He didn't really mean to kill the guy, as it was his intent to 'merely' humiliate him and just beat him up. But as he was quite drunk at the time, Monty's fists got the better of him. It is this act that sets the story the story in motion.
Once the movie builds up a head of steam the other characters come rapidly into focus. Monty's opposite number is Keely, another soldier, who, though introspective like Monty, and somewhat detached, harbors no resentment toward anyone and seems a reasonable, even amiable guy. Finley, the pipe-smoking homicide detective, is dandyish and a tad effete compared to the men in uniform, but proves more than a match for the various and mostly recalcitrant soldiers he deals with. The actors who plays these roles, Roberts Ryan, Mitchum and Young, give excellent performances, each in a different key. Ryan, as Monty, is tense and paranoid, always looking around for someone to pick on; and one can feel his anxiety over becoming a victim himself. As Keely, Mitchum is low-key, almost nonchalant; he never raises his voice; and he seems to have more to say, more to offer, than is permitted by the script. Young's performance has often been criticized as being too soft, but I find it deceptively strong and nicely offbeat. He cuts against the stereotype of the hardboiled cop, and makes the character of Finley a bit of a prince of crime detection.
There are few surprises in Crossfire, though the script is at times surprisingly well-written, even brilliant. Character actor Paul Kelly gives one of the best short performances in the movies as the 'boyfriend' of a woman a soldier picks up in a bar. Kelly may or may not be her husband; and he may or may not live with her, though he seems relaxed enough in her apartment. The beauty of these scenes are that nothing is made clear, and this man himself seems more than a little confused over what his role is, was or ought to be. In a way these few scenes form the thematic core of the film, which is anomie. With the exception of the detective all the men in the film are drifting, aimless and basically lost, some more seriously than others. In this respect Crossfire is, for all the preaching near the end, a film about the vagueness of identity, and how easily it can be lost or warped. Men drift from one bar to another in this film, as they engage in a sort of woozy camaraderie, their personalities merging into a kind of general American male template. Then something happens, something is nailed down. A word is mentioned, whether 'Jew' or 'hillbilly', and things suddenly turn tense, and the very notion of individuality, of an identity outside the group, of anyone not like them, becomes deeply offensive, even loathsome. Then, after tempers flare and whatever stirred them up has been resolved or forgotten, the men revert to their loose, non-personal group normality, and order is restored.


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