I Became a Criminal

source: I Became a Criminal

Ex serviceman Trevor Howard (Clem) is bored now that the war is over and agrees to join a criminal gang headed up by spiv boss Griffith Jones (Narcy) who peddles whatever contraband comes in – cigarettes, meat and even sherbet. I love sherbet. It seems a funny thing to ban, though. Anyway, Howard is enraged by the fact that this sherbet is being peddled unlawfully. He obviously feels for the sweetshop traders. His stand on sherbet causes a rift with Jones. Jones has plans for Howard. Not good ones. There are a few good things going for this film including the ending which wouldn't be allowed in Hollywood in which the dialogue as delivered by Jones is completely unexpected and standout. There is also a memorable sequence with housewife Vida Hope (Mrs Fenshaw) who wants a favour of Howard in return for sheltering him whilst he is on the run. Vida is really freaky! The cast are a mish-mash. I didn't think any of the women convinced and I couldn't relate to any of the male cast. Trevor is OK in the lead. And what is it with the names of the gang? I thought one guy was called 'Sophie' for most of the film. And the lead gangster is just one letter away from being called 'Nancy'. But I think that falls in line with British gangsters of the time – note 'Pinkie' from "Brighton Rock" made in the same year. Of course, the famous 'nancy-boy' Kray twins popped up later in 1960s London. The film is OK but watch out for the fake fights. The rubber milk bottles that are hurled about and bounce off people's heads contrast sharply with the sequence when Sally Gray (Sally) gets beaten up. The violence towards women in this film is disturbing and once again, the dialogue as delivered by Jones is menacing during these sequences. Overall, it's not quite up there with the best.

In the post-war in London, the unemployed and former RAF pilot Clem Morgan (Trevor Howard) is invited by his acquaintance Narcissus "Narcy" (Griffith Jones) to join his gang of smugglers and smalltime thieves that uses a funeral home as headquarter. When Clem sees drugs in a coffin, he decides to leave the gang after his last job looting a warehouse. However Narcy betrays him and activates an alarm, but Clem escapes from the warehouse and gets in Narcy´s car. When the gangster Soapy (Jack McNaughton) is driving the getaway car, Narcy orders him to hit and run a policeman on the street. The car crashes a post and Narcy also hits Clem´s head and flees with Soapy, leaving Clem unconscious in the car. Clem is arrested and convicted for manslaughter and sent to a prison in Dartmoor. When Clem receives the visit of Narcy´s girlfriend Sally Connor (Sally Gray) and learns that his girlfriend Ellie is with Narcy, he decides to escape from prison. Now he is a fugitive and seeks out Soapy to clear his name and Narcy to revenge is betrayal. "They Made Me a Fugitive" is a good British film-noir with themes that might have impacted the audiences in 1947. There is reference to drug; torture of woman; and wife executing the alcoholic husband. The cast is excellent and the performances are top-notch. The beauty of Sally Gray is ahead of the time. The plot is well-resolved but the woman that kills her husband is forgotten. My vote is seven. Title (Brazil): "Nas Garras da Fatalidade" ("In the Claws of the Fatality")

A year after his hit,"Brief Encounter," Trevor Howard turned to a British gangster film of the film noir genre. Falling in with a band of crooks, Howard wants out when he sees what they're really up to. The leader of the gang, Griffith Jones, has him framed for running over a police officer and the Howard character is sentenced to 15 years for manslaughter. The rest of the film deals with Howard breaking out of prison, after he is told that his girlfriend is now going with Griffith. Of course, Griffith's ex tells him all this. Griffith Jones's death scene is quite similar to that of Stephen Boyd in "Ben-Hur." The only difference is that the ending is not exactly what you want. Nevertheless, this is a taut thriller, one of the best of the film-noir genre. Sally Gray is Griffith's ex who comes to love Howard.

They Made Me a Fugitive (1947) This is a vigorous British crime noir film, a counterpart to the great Warner Bros American movies from the same period (and earlier) and to American post-war film noir. (In fact, this was released by Warner Bros.) The plot is fast and twisty and the photography is bold and dramatic with a lot of night scenes. Great stuff. If you like this sort of thing normally you'll love this. The star is one of the Howard Brothers, Trevor, playing a would-be criminal and eventually the fugitive of the title. He's mixed up with some tough criminal types (British style) and some female leads that have echoes of film noir femme fatales. There is violence, angular camera-work, even a few special effects, and a couple of sympathetic leads who eventually take the plot somewhere new. Howard's biggest role, in the best movie of his career, came two years earlier in "Brief Encounter," and he's again complex and nuanced and someone to identify with. But he's not especially sympathetic, playing a hardened, selfish type who just happens to have a conscience unlike his cohorts. The movie follows him through several phases of his brush with crime, and with an attempt to clear his name. There is a rather long and dramatic and somewhat unconvincing fight scene near the end (the throw of the milk bottle takes first prize in this one), but the very last scene is brutally pessimistic in a way American noirs are oddly not. If you like film noir this is a must see. If you appreciate a good movie for its action and drama, likewise. There may be no deep character development are larger social arc here, but that's true of a lot of American noirs, too. So just jump and and soak it all up.

Fine cast, crackling dialogue, sure-handed direction, and some lovely camera work make 'They Made Me A Fugitive' a splendid viewing experience, but the film's ripping, breathless pacing most impressed me. From the outset I just felt immersed into a cesspool of criminality, through which the pacing just dunked me again and again, deeper and deeper into the depravity of the characters. The police seem to exist in another England - the one of "bright, sunlit uplands" - while the film shoves you and binds you amid hoodlums, spivs, black marketeers, and sadistic enforcers who inhabit a claustrophobic, treacherous underworld in which violence to body and soul lurks in every shadow. At the remove of six decades some of the dialogue and action seems clichéd (although - spoiler coming here - the sequence of the fall-from-power fate of the gang leader, Narcy, socked me in my gut: it's a clever, artful, uncompromising bit of camera work); but on the whole the film still punches and lands hard blows. And, oh boy, the one character, Narcy's chief muscle-enforcer, still chills me to the bone whenever, in deliberate or unbidden recall, he lurks in and lunges from the chiaroscuro brandishing his menacing, meaty bulk, punishment-keen fists, charmless, cold, piggish face, vicious, predatory eyes, and glinting knife blade. Gives me the creeps! See 'They Made Me A Fugitive' and be swept, panting, through ninety-six minutes that seem to be counted in thunderous heartbeats that, in the underworld of this tale, may - or may not - get to go on pounding behind the thin, warm, vulnerable flesh of your chest. This one's as good as noir ever got to be.

They Made Me a Fugitive (AKA: I Became a Criminal) is directed by Alberto Cavalcanti, and adapted to screenplay by Noel Langley from the novel A Convict Has Escaped written by Jackson Budd. It stars Trevor Howard, Sally Gray, Griffith Jones, Rene Ray and Mary Merrall. Music is by Marius-Francois Gaillard and cinematography by Otto Heller. Ex-RAF man Clem Morgan (Howard) finds civilian life is dull and a struggle for him to ingratiate himself into. Searching for some excitement he is tempted into joining a black market gang fronted by ruthless Narcy (Jones). But Clem and Narcy don't exactly hit it off and when disaster strikes during a getaway, Clem finds himself set up as a fall-guy. So begins a tale of murder, beatings and revenge. Call it either Brit film noir or spiv crime melodrama, they Made Me a Fugitive is a 100% potent and important movie in the cycle of British crime films that came out in the late 1940's; films that caused quite a stir upon their release. Shifting from wartime propaganda to post-war malaise and the dubious moral conditions of the cities, "Fugitive", and films of its ilk such as Brighton Rock, baited the censors at the BBFC, where although some minor tone downs were used as a compromise, Cavalcanti refused to bow down to any requests for striping the film of its violence and grim social realistic core. His standing was such that the film was passed uncut for release in the summer of 47, thus it was able to shock the contemporary British audience. Sadly American audiences were not so lucky, instead receiving a cut minus 20 minutes, that was released under the title I Became a Criminal in 1948. Suffice to say that the only version to see these days is the one that runs at just under 100 minutes in length. Hard to believe that such a tough picture was scripted by the same guy who wrote the screenplays for the Wizard of Oz (1939) and Scrooge (1951), but that is the case. Langley's teaming with Cavalcanti and Heller proved to be a great one, ensuring that the film looked, sounded and played out as the grim tale it ultimately is. The violence, and in fact the staging of such, is of course tame when viewed nowadays, but the film has such a sense of time period it's easy to get transported into the movie and feel the unflinching nature of the beast. Besides, the violence against women and coppers used here will always carry with it a sense of nastiness. Film is also boosted by the performances of Howard (making no attempt to play Clem as likable), Jones (eloquent spiv nastiness supreme) and Gray (hot to trot). Howard was right in the middle of what would be a purple period in his career, with Brief Encounter just behind him and The Third Man on the horizon, Howard was on form. That this film warrants being mentioned in the same breath as those two movies is testament to its, and his, worth. Perhaps a little surprising given the itchy texture of the film, there's also some dark humour within. It's not for nothing that the bad guys work out of a funeral parlour, where constant reminders of death are evident via the coffins and sarcastic advertisements on the walls. This base also acts as the back drop to the big face off during the finale, tensely played out on the roof where a huge sign grimly reads R.I.P. Where the film gets its Brit film noir tag from is due to the look provided by Heller's photography and the scenes constructed by Cavalcanti in dimly lit rooms and ramshackle alleyways. While the ending, thankfully, doesn't cop out and ensures that no film noir fan will be disappointed. All in it's a classic piece of British crime film making, taking chances by not shying away from playing the drama straight and true, while revelling in a mood of bitterness. 9/10

Cavalcanti directed this excellent British film noir, "They Made Me a Fugitive," with the then new star, Trevor Howard, as well as Sally Gray, Griffith Jones, and Mary Merrall. Howard plays Clem Morgan, a war hero who joins a black market ring, headed by Narcy (Jones) that does business out of Narcy's funeral business, the contraband entering in coffins. Clem, however, draws the line when he sees them dealing in drugs. He winds up being framed for a killing of a bobby, deserted while he's unconscious in a car. The ex-girlfriend (Gray) of Narcy, the chief criminal, comes to see him in prison, sure he's not guilty. Clem escapes and goes on the run, and reconnects with Gray. She tries to find the witness who can clear him. Very ahead of its time in its graphic violence, which includes violence toward women. Also, the lead is not a hero, having turned to crime. The ending is also unexpected. My only complaint would be the hitting the audience over the head with the RIP letters on the roof, and also the phrase "It's later than you think," which was possibly the inspiration for its appearance in "Midnight Cowboy." The performances are very good, with Howard, Gray, and Griffith all in top form, and Merrall creates an interesting character. The camera-work is very good also, quite stunning. Highly recommended - it's nothing like you'd expect.

After June of 1934, one of the main thou-shalt-nots of the USA production code (PCA)and Joseph Breen's storm troopers was the total banishment of the mention of "dope" in any form in any film that hoped to get the PCA seal of approval. Couldn't take it, sell it,give it away, talk about it, sing about it, smoke it, ingest or digest it or even let it creep in the film via implication. There would be no more of Gertrude Michael singing "Sweet Marijuana" in films from the mainline...uh, major or minor Hollywood companies and studios whose survival was dependent on gettiing a PCA seal of approval on their films. Any movie-goer needing a fix, between 1934 and 1947, had to seek out the side-street grind houses where the likes of exploitation producers Dwain Esper, J. D. Kendis and Willis Kent were four-walling or road-showing films such as "Marihuana", "Tell Your Children/Reefer Madness" and "Gambling With Souls,", or in some all-black cast films produced for the all-black only theatres across the USA. The attitude of the makers of these films in regards to a PCA seal was much like that of Alfonso Bedoya in "Treasure of the Sierra Madre" regarding badges; he didn't have no bawdge and he didn't need no bawdge, and these producers didn't have no seal and they didn't need no seal. Anyway, thirteen years pass and it comes up that the public had had it up to here with films about psychiatry since one thousand, three hundred and thirty-six films had been made on that subject in the past few years---it may have been only a dozen or so but it sure seemed like 1,336---and Hollywood was looking for a new subject and some of the money people and big-wigs of the industry started crying around to the Breen Office that it was way too restrictive regarding subject matter and it might help everybody in the industry if they would just lighten up a little, so the Breens made a few amendments to the "no-dope" clause, or something like that. So, the next 1,336 (or maybe a dozen or so) films from Hollywood had somebody smuggling dope---"To the Ends of the Earth" or slipping dope to a wife via her nightly fix of hot chocolate---"Sleep, My Love", which also threw in some psychiatry and showed that Hollywood was never good at going cold turkey. England, through an ancient version of E-mail known as the telephone, got wind of what was going on and they quickly made "They Made Me a Fugitive" which basically is about the selling of dope. Yes, it is. RAF vet is restless in post-war life, joins a crime gang and gets all out of sorts when he discovers his new associates are engaged in peddling dope.

A British noir as good as the definitive ones being turned out in the States by such consensus masters as Mann, Dassin, and Lewis, to name three. And what about that great ending that still leaves me flabbergasted. Three cheers for a British cinema that apparently was able to operate without the albatross of a Production Code and still not wreck the nation's moral fiber. Needless to say, those final few minutes would never have been allowed Stateside where the scales of justice always triumphed, no matter how the world really works. Then too, consider the household Howard stumbles into by accident, where the zoned out housewife is only too eager to perforate her boozy hubby. One look at that demented visage and she's a lot scarier than any of the professionals. No wonder Howard flees back to the safety of London's underworld. This may also be the cheapest electricity bill on record since the brightest sound-stage bulb checks in at about 60 watts—they don't call it "noir" for nothing. And keep an ear cocked for some of the snappiest dialogue this side of Dashiel Hammett, especially from that old crone Aggie, who, I shudder to think, might actually be somebody's grandmother. Not that everything is roses. Some of the set-ups operate only at a stretch. For example, Howard's aim with a milk bottle should have him pitching for the Yankees. And he does it with such casual flair, you'd never guess his life is on the line. Nonetheless, the movie's a real sleeper and should have been exported to our shores a lot sooner. I expect, that daring finale would have inspired our own filmmakers to greater sneaky lengths in subverting the dead hand of Hollywood censorship.