Underrated Gem: "Criss Cross"

When I was on my initial voyage of noir discovery in the 1990s, Robert Siodmak's near perfect Criss Cross was nowhere near the top of the food chain, and that puzzled me. Here was a tremendously affecting story: Burt Lancaster plays Steve, a guy who returns to his hometown of Los Angeles still pining for ex (Yvonne "Lily Munster" DeCarlo) and gets mixed up in a armored car heist.

Lancaster was essentially discovered by director Siodmak three years earlier when he was cast in 1946's The Killers, based on Ernest Hemingway's short story. That film, Lancaster's debut, made him a star instantly. By 1949, Lancaster had begun to feel his oats and had just expanded his cinematic horizons with his own production company, one of the first independents in Hollywood, and the noir-ish Kiss the Blood Off My Hands. However, still under contract to Hal Wallis and Paramount, Lancaster was loaned to Universal Studios for Criss Cross, his eighth film.

One of the benefits of the film is its extensive location work in and around Bunker Hill near downtown Los Angeles. All of these locations were destroyed in the 1960s to make way for the new Los Angeles Courthouse and other federal buildings. (With the refurbishment, the city also lost the fabled "Angels Flight," a tramcar that connected Hill Street and Olive Street, and can be seen in the film.)

Like all the best noir films, Criss Cross has a tremendous sense of atmosphere.

It's interesting to note that in the New York Times review, Criss Cross was labeled "a suspenseful action picture," when today's critics and scholars refer to it as a film noir. Star Lancaster was not pleased with the liberties Siodmak and screenwriter Daniel Fuchs made to the story after producer Mark Hellinger suddenly died of a heart attack prior to filming. The director and screenwriter slanted the story, which was originally a basic robbery yarn, to emphasize scenes and dialogue between Steve, Anna (DeCarlo), and Slim Dundee (Dan Duryea), and the poisonous threesome they have developed. Steve's passion and love for Anna becomes his sole motivation for participating in the robbery with Slim and his gang. Lancaster's Steve is one of the most passive, love-struck saps of all films noir. His love for the opportunistic Anna blinds him to the trouble and double cross ahead, and I'm assuming Lancaster wasn't crazy about playing such a passive guy. Nevertheless, I feel his performance is one of Lancaster's most effective, with his vulnerability making Steve more sympathetic and much better than his "Swede" character in The Killers, who just seemed stupid. That film had a great critical and box office reputation from the time it premiered, yet Criss Cross has struggled for over sixty years to make it to the top of critics' and scholars' lists. (Criss Cross currently sits at number two on "noir czar" Eddie Muller's list of all-time noirs right behind 1950's great In a Lonely Place.)

 

Tension is mounting: DeCarlo's Anna, Duryea as Slim, Tom Pedi's Vincent, Lancaster as Steve (left to right).

One of the benefits of the film is its marvelous cast. DeCarlo, who I previously tagged as Lily Munster from the 1960's sitcom, The Munsters, had one of her greatest roles as Anna, Steve's two-timing ex and current wife of Duryea's Slim. DeCarlo's beauty staggers everyone she comes into contact with. While maybe not quite on par with Ava Gardner's femme fatale in The Killers, DeCarlo more than holds her own. For me, who had only been in contact with her through her sitcom character and the old chestnut, Band of Angels with Clark Gable, DeCarlo's turn in Criss Cross was an eye opener. 

Not enough can be said of Dan Duryea, one of cinema's great bad guys. His Slim Dundee is creepy, slimy, scary, and oddly sympathetic. Slim, too, is in love with Anna, and it drives him crazy with jealousy, never trusting her or letting her out of his sight (if Slim isn't around, one of his flunkies escorts her with rides and so forth). In fact, although the basic plot is an armored car heist, the actual tension comes from the triangle these three develop. 

Saving the best for last is Burt Lancaster as Steve, a poor sap if ever there was one. Steve believes all the sweet talk Anna gives him about hating Slim, and Steve being the only one she ever wanted. Steve believes it because he wants to more than anything. From Steve's opening scene, all he thinks about is Anna, although he denies it to anyone who asks. If you've ever had a break-up with a dame and then thought only about ways of getting her back, then Steve is your go-to guy. 

Criss Cross also benefits from a tremendous supporting cast, some familiar, some not. Starting with Steve's pal, Detective Pete Ramirez, played by Stephen McNalley; Tom Pedi's Vincent ("That's the ticket! That's the way to be!!!"); Alan Napier (best known as Alfred from the 1960s Batman TV show) as Finchley; Richard Long as Steve's brother, Slade; and, best of all, Percy Helton as bartender, Frank. Also, I have to give a shout out to an actress I haven't seen in a movie since, Joan Miller as The Lush, as she's credited on IMDB. 

Yvonne DeCarlo in Criss Cross, at the height of her beauty.
Steve and Slim battle over her the entire film. Come on, wouldn't you?

Director Robert Siodmak, a German refugee, was a noir expert. Coming to America in the late 1930s, he made 23 films in Tinseltown, but he started slow and near the bottom. After a few minor features, Siodmak signed with Universal Pictures where his first job came in the form of Son of Dracula, featuring a robust Lon Chaney, Jr., as Count Alucard (get it? "Dracula" spelled backwards). According to Wikipedia, Son of Dracula is the first Dracula film to show the Count turning into a bat. Although a B-picture, the film is drenched in a smoky atmosphere suitable to its Southern setting. From there, Siodmak went on to make several of the best noirs ever, including Phantom Lady in 1944; Christmas Holiday with singing star Deanna Durbin giving her pipes a rest and shedding her wholesome image opposite a menacing against-type Gene Kelly, also in 1944; 1945's The Spiral Staircase; The Killers (for which he received an Oscar nomination for Best Director) and The Dark Mirror, both in 1946. After finishing his work in American movies with the rousing, very un-noir-like The Crimson Pirate with an acrobatic Burt Lancaster, Siodmak returned to Europe to continue his career. He died in 1973 without ever really getting the recognition he deserved.

The end is nigh.

For my money, the best part of Criss Cross is the ending. The robbery goes horribly wrong, leaving Steve in the hospital after being shot in the shoulder during the heist. He's taken by one of Slim's henchmen and driven to the beach house where he told Anna to meet him. Once there, Anna shows her true colors: she is leaving Steve, bad shoulder and all, telling him that what has happened is not her fault, that people "gotta look out for themselves." Crushed, Steve quietly tells her of his never-ending love and obsession. "I never wanted the money," he tells her. "I only wanted you." Then, just before Anna hits the road with a suitcase full of dough, Slim shows up. Shot in the hold-up as well, Slim comes limping in with cane for help. Catching Anna with Steve is the ultimate betrayal. Slim pulls out a gun. . . . It's one of the saddest, most heartbreaking conclusions in film history. Along with the finale to another noir classic, Chinatown, the last five minutes of Criss Cross haunt the viewer long after the movie ends.

What a cast of characters! That's Percy Helton top left.

Sources : IMDB
                Wikipedia
                TCM (film viewing)