CLYDEFRO JONES ON WHILE THE CITY SLEEPS
Critic and writer Clydefro Jones reviews Fritz Lang’s noir While the City Sleeps, which is available on DVD now.
A film noir, a soapy ensemble piece and a fine newspaper picture, Fritz Lang’s While the City Sleeps manages to feel stronger as it seemingly divides its attention among these varied interests. In his penultimate American film, released by RKO in 1956, Lang broadened the focus in ways he had rarely done since arriving in Hollywood. Questions are raised about the influence of media, the many roles of sex, and strength (or lack thereof) of character, among others. The result is a picture that still works enormously well, both because it utilizes the director’s typically deft pacing and as a consequence of his willingness to explore adult, often cynical themes. Lang balances his characters, intentions and commitment to scratching around the unhealthy area where human vice merges with influence and manipulation. While the City Sleeps is a film that touches on Lang’s usual interests of guilt, and the psychology surrounding it, and the impact of individuals on society as a whole (and vice versa), but, more than anything else, it’s one about power.
As the movie begins, the power rests with dying media magnate Amos Kyne (Robert Warwick). He runs several major newspapers, a prominent wire service and a television station. He has little faith in his son Walter (Vincent Price, slimy as ever) and instead prefers his best newsman Ed Mobley (Dana Andrews), who has never shown any interest in taking over for Kyne. Walter indeed ascends to the company’s leadership after his father’s death and, recognizing he’s in over his head, creates a position that will directly oversee all news operations. He chooses three candidates for the job: wire service chief Mark Loving (George Sanders), newspaper editor John Day Griffith (Thomas Mitchell), and head photograph man Harry Kritzer (James Craig). The intertwining relationships among these principals, and the way they’re perceived by others as well as the viewer, become fairly complex, though actually a little underplayed by Lang. The characters of Mobley and columnist Mildred Donner (a perfect Ida Lupino, who was somehow overlooked by the Academy for this and every other role she ever played) are the ones who crisscross around the candidates with the most interest.
The setup, for the film and the unsubtle competition among Loving, Griffith and Kritzer, centers around a serial murderer dubbed early on as the “Lipstick Killer.” It’s assumed that whichever man gets the scoop will also receive the promotion, and all three are shown as desperately wanting it. Lang boldly begins the movie by showing the culprit (a too exaggerated John Drew Barrymore, son of John and father of Drew) as he nervously puts his plan in motion, before cutting away prior to the actual act. This seems to place the suspense with the goings-on at Kyne rather than the murder investigation. Any clues leading to the identity and capture of the killer attain importance for their place in the scheme of the promotion. Covering all of its bases, the film also introduces a police lieutenant, played by Howard Duff, who is a friend of Mobley’s and a means of establishing some semblance of procedural legitimacy. It’s here, too, that Lang conjures up a bit of tension in the hunt for the Lipstick Killer.
As shot by Ernest Laszlo, the climactic chase involving the hunted murderer and Mobley aesthetically confirms the picture’s status as a noir. Its qualifications from a narrative standpoint lie with the many levels of intrigue and deceit that float to the top of most any interaction involving the main characters. When melodrama threatens to be overpowering, Lang consistently dials things down to reveal the often sordid underbelly of what’s really going on among these people. (“I wonder what the nice people are doing tonight”, Mobley wryly wonders while in the back of a taxi with a woman who isn’t his fiancée.) It’s emphasized that Mobley has no ambitions of power, a claim that even Lang doesn’t seem to quite buy considering how he treats the character in scenes like the drunken coupling with Mildred and most every time he joins up with the lieutenant. The other principals, though, bleed and sweat for more power, using whatever strengths they perceive as having to position themselves into a better place. Mildred values her sex appeal, Loving relishes his connections, Griffith uses his reporter’s work ethic, and Harry has the boss’ wife (Rhonda Fleming) as his ace in the hole.
The larger arc of power extends to the role of the media in Lang’s film. Though it’s not an explicit point made by the picture, the pervasiveness of the Kyne empire is somewhat disconcerting and certainly reminiscent of modern news corporations. Controlling the news, which begins here with the dying Amos Kyne’s desire to see the lipstick killer story given prominent coverage, can give way to being a dangerous exercise of power, particularly when there are multiple platforms like a wire service and television station involved. Few films are as subtle yet skillful in depicting how the media can build a story up and then benefit from the invented relevance of it as While the City Sleeps. Moreover, such manipulation is presented as rather ordinary and without any ethical considerations. The one time something is quickly debated and removed, it’s out of concern for libel, a largely economic decision. Media power even reaches the Lipstick Killer, whose actions are guided by Mobley’s on-air comments and the page one announcement of his engagement to Nancy Liggett (Sally Forrest). The message throughout the film seems to be that the media, in its various incarnations, can affect societal actions, and that it’s main concern is looking out for number one.
Lang’s film has a tacked-on happy ending that is almost impossible to actually take comfort in aside from an incidental comeuppance or two. The larger picture that Lang has painted here, just as in M and his Mabuse films, is one filled with unsolved problems and the near impossibility of the individual to break free from everyday conditions. It’s not that Lang seems to be suggesting total hopelessness or defeat. His point instead can be viewed as a warning of the potential for bleakness. If you ignore the larger ills of society then some sort of happiness might be possible. But it’s likely to be temporary, paved with plenty of cracks and blind to a crumbling foundation. Even the silver linings in Fritz Lang’s movies tend to be tarnished.
This article originally appeared on TheDigitalFix. Further film reviews can be found at www.thedigitalfix.com and www.clydefro.com
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