The old blues song “Motherless Children” rattles off one family member after another who can’t properly fill the void left when a mother dies. 1950 noir Gun Crazy shows us something the song fails to mention and that is, while an older sister tries to do the best she can, she can’t keep a kid obsessed with guns from smashing a store window so as to steal a pistol and some boxes of ammunition. Admittedly, that would have made for a strange song, but I’d love to hear how somebody could make that fit the meter.
A young Russ Tamblyn is that kid, and a judge takes him away from older sister Anabel Shaw and puts him in a reform school. He matures into John Dall and does a stint in the army training soldiers how to shoot. After tiring of that, he returns to his hometown of Cashville, a town seemingly named ironically as it looks like it could use a large infusion of the green stuff. It is there he becomes reacquainted with childhood friends who have gone on to become a deputy (Harry Lewis) and a newspaper reporter (Nedrick Young).
It is only natural that men in those professions would figure into Dall’s life again when he finds himself at the tail end of an eventual crime spree. What is interesting is they also play a role in initiating that spree, ponying up the dough for him to accept a challenge to outshoot travelling carnival performer Peggy Cummins.
The diminutive actress immediately locks the viewer’s attention from the first frame she’s in. Her confidence and swagger is intense and quite sexy. She looks almost bored as she effortlessly shoots targets an assistant holds or places in her mouth or over her head. Then Dall steps up to accept the challenge and they circle each other like wild animals.
The way they size each other up is sexier than anything a movie could show us with even fully naked people. Their instantaneous chemistry feels genuine and exciting. As he sums it up, they’re “like how guns and ammunition go together.” This bad girl expresses an uneasy temptation to go good, and the sultry way she says this is like it’s the dirtiest thing a person could do. In a line I’m surprised went by the censors, she is stunned by his insistence they get married before getting horizontal.
There’s a little bit of conflict with the carnival top man (Berry Kroeger), who is apparently blackmailing Cummins for sexual favors, holding over her head a man she killed in St. Louis for reasons I don’t think are ever revealed. Still, that previous death is a hint of the danger to come.
This film was re-released under the alternate title of Deadly Is the Female, and that’s an accurate title for this. As much as Dall may love guns and shooting them, he is paralyzed with fear of actually killing a man. In an earlier flashback, we see germ of that fear planted when he kills a baby chick with a BB gun in a moment of childhood mischief. She, on the other hand, can’t wait for the next opportunity to snuff a life.
One of the many things I’m surprised a film of this vintage gets away with is shooting being such an obvious metaphor for sex. One example is in a stunning heist sequence, where she is obviously very excited during the getaway. We see this in her face as she looks back into the camera, as the camera is in the back seat of the car.
This is at the end of an innovative sequence which is one, long unbroken take from that perspective. We start with Dall hoping to find a parking spot in front of a bank, then going in to rob it. While he’s inside, a cop comes up to the car and Cummins gets out to try to distract him. She’s dressed in her outfit from her carnival days. I’m not sure exactly what this says about her, but I find that intriguing. We’re still in the back seat as the bank’s alarm is tripped, Dall runs out and she incapacitates the cop. Then we’re behind the couple as they make their getaway in the car.
This sequence is an amazing technical achievement, all the more so because it does not call attention to itself. There are other moments shot in this manner later in the film, all of which would normally have been done using a rear projection screen, but filming in the real world makes the film more substantial. One interesting shot towards the conclusion is from overhead, and it pulls out from the duo on the floor as they diagram a planned payroll heist. Even minor shots throughout the runtime are composed with the eye of an artist.
That final heist is interesting, as the couple gets hired by the company they intend to rob. A sign of bygone times is the bitter woman running the department chastising Cummins for wearing slacks to work. I have a feeling that, after Cummins shoots that woman, there’s an office full of people who wish they’d had the opportunity to do that themselves.
Typical of such films, the dialogue often has a real spark, with unrealistic lines that are how I wish people talked in real life. Even the most minor characters like a carnival clown get great lines, such as when he gives the lowdown on the concessions being the real profit maker (just like the theaters!): “We’ve got more ways of making suckers than we got suckers.”
But our femme fatale gets the majority of the best lines, regularly spouting such dialogue as: “I’ve been kicked around all my life. From now on, I’m going to be kicking back.”
There is much to love about Gun Crazy, and it is one of the films I would recommend as an initiation to those are who unfamiliar with noir. It is a solid B-movie, but one with great photography and performances, not to mention smart dialogue and the obligatory femme fatale.
Dir: Joseph H. Lewis
Starring John Dall, Peggy Cummins
Watched on Warner Archive blu-ray