The Raging Tide

Moviecut—The Raging Tide

Bruno (Richard Conte) is a career criminal and early in the film, he kills one of his rivals. Not surprisingly, he is soon on the run from the law...and he hides out on a fishing boat. And, for some time, he manages to evade the police by hopping aboard a fishing boat. Soon, he manages to impress the skipper and he becomes a trusted member of the crew. In the meantime, the police are pressuring Bruno's girlfriend (Shelley Winters), but she's a tough character and manages to hold them at bay. What's to become of the pair? The best thing about this film is watching Shelley Winters and she's an excellent femme fatale. In one scene, a guy is getting fresh with her and she lets him have it! Overall, an enjoyable noir movie...mostly because of her. Winters great as a tough dame.

I cannot say that I know a great deal about Director George Sherman. He did more A than B pics but he never became a household name. He does a credible job in THE RAGING TIDE, extracting superior performances from Conte, an interesting villain who begins by committing murder and ends up redeeming himself by saving his love rival's life; Shellwy Winters, the woman who loves Conte but steadily realizes that he is not on the right side of the law and is all wrong for her; Charles Bickford, playing a Swedish fishing boat skipper with a broad if less than convincing accent; Stephen McNally, in a small but recurrent part as a police detective; and, above all, John McIntire, a largely unsung supporting actor from whom I have never watched anything but high quality performances. Albeit small, his role is truly memorable as an old sailor down on his luck. Alex Nicol amounts to the weaker link in the cast but he does not compromise the overall product. Competent cinematography with great action sequences at sea. The script has some credibility holes but on the whole it rates better than average and keeps you riveted throughout. Definitely worth watching!

This is a likable but significantly frail B noir offering, made for Universal, directed by George Sherman, starring Richard Conte, Shirley Winters, Charles Bickford, John McIntyre, and Stephen McNally. Conte fairs better than usual in the role of a fugitive murderer, Bruno, that hides in a fishing boat, ultimately settling in the boat and becoming of one of the fishermen. Sherley Winters looks OK as the heartbroken girl of Bruno. John McIntyre as the penniless old beggar looks really creepy. Bickford with his unusual Swedish accent is fun to watch. The narrative moves back and forth between the chaotic urban city and the quiet serene setting on the shores, where learning something about fishing becomes more fascinating than crime itself. The opening scenes of "Raging Tide" are outstanding, filled with suspense and intrigue. It opens with a long shot of a nocturnal street and then the camera pans to the right and stops at a window in a secluded building, where Bruno is gunning down a man. We don't see who is being murdered but only Bruno as he looks at his victim. And then he tips the police about his crime and runs away. As he runs and runs, his voice-over enters the soundtrack, speaking about his condition and circumstances, but then oddly the voice-over vanishes when the film settles in the nearby sea. "Raging Tide" has a warm, appealing moments, complemented by an enjoyable black-and-white photography (by Russell Metty), but it ultimately wafts into the air when it is over. You get the impression that it could have been better.

... which is disappointing since this is allegedly a film noir. It starts off with a bang - literally - as small time collection racket hood Bruno Felkin (Richard Conte) shoots and kills Marty Prince. Then he does an odd thing. Bruno calls the police to say that Marty has just been murdered. Why? He is going to run to his girlfriend Connie's (Shelley Winters) place, be there in seven minutes, and thus have an alibi for the murder. The reasoning behind this being that Bruno had a motive to kill Prince so the police will come looking for him pretty much out of the gate. But Connie isn't at home, and her building is the kind you need to be "buzzed" into by a resident. Bruno didn't think this out very well ahead of time, did he? So now he's on the run and there are roadblocks on every avenue leading out of San Francisco. The police could do these things 70 years ago when there was a murder a month. So Bruno hides out on a fishing boat. When he is discovered by the owner, Hamill Linder (Charles Bickford), Bruno claims to be a salesman who was walking by, got overpoweringly sleepy, fell asleep aboard the vessel, and only woke up once they were at sea. So now this film transitions into something like Captains Courageous where the bad guy ( not that bad in Courageous!) finds honest hard work and the father figure he never had at sea. But it is not all smooth sailing, because Hamill has his own problems. Primarily his problem is that his son is a hood in the making, and he is not nearly as smooth or smart as he thinks that he is. Meanwhile, back in San Francisco, Detective Kelsey is investigating this murder and looking for Bruno, all the while spouting dialogue that sounds like it was written for Detective Frank Drebin of Police Squad, but sounding obnoxious versus having Drebin's clueless adorable presence. Shelley Winters doesn't have lots of screen time as Bruno's cynical girlfriend, but she makes that time count. There are a couple of goofs/odd things going on. For one, that door buzzer, a key plot point, disappears after Bruno is foiled by the thing as people wander effortlessly into Connie's building and right up to her door. Also, there is a group of perpetually drunk fishermen on the wharf, to what end I have no idea. Fishermen are a hard working lot and don't have time for such loitering. On the bright side, there are lots of good shots of mid 20th century San Francisco to the point I'm surprised Eddie Muller, film noir aficionado and native of that city, hasn't had this one restored for old times sake. There are also lots of shots of what working on a fishing boat at that time looked like without it turning into a documentary. I'd mildly recommend this one if only for the performances from Bickford, Conte, and Winters. Just realize going in that it is much too sentimental for a noir.

Another excellent little film I'd never heard of, which popped up in YouTube's film noir section. As so often that's not an accurate description, though it starts in fine noirish style, with a thin-lipped, stony-faced Richard Conte shooting someone . Knowing he'll be the prime suspect he reports the crime to the police, then hot-foots it to his girlfriend Shelley Winters's apartment so he'll have an alibi, only to find she's out. Clearly he's not the smartest crook in San Francisco: surely he would have made absolutely sure she'd be there. With SF locked down he finds himself at Fisherman's Wharf, hides on a small trawler and once it puts to sea comes out of hiding, claiming to have been drunk and fallen asleep on the boat. The kindly skipper, Hamil Linder (Charles Bickford) is a Swedish immigrant whose only crew is his son (Alex Nicol), for whom work is a dirty four-letter word. Bruno offers to work, and finds he rather enjoys it. He also becomes very fond of Linder, respecting him as the father figure and good role model he (like so many criminals) never had. He's angry that Alex Nicol, as Linder's son, doesn't show his father the respect he deserves. Eventually both Conte and Nicol redeem themselves in different ways. The idea of redemption is very important to Catholics, though I doubt the writer, Ernest K. Gann, was a Catholic. For some reason Shelley Winters is top-billed. She has some good, snappy dialogue with Stephen McNally as the cop who's trying to get her to betray Bruno, but obviously Conte (who'd starred in the same director's "The Sleeping City" the year before) has the central role. All the acting is good, as is the photography by Russell Metty and the music by Frank Skinner, both top Hollywood craftsmen. There's location shooting in SF and convincing backdrops in the sea scenes: too many directors, including Hitchcock, tolerated ridiculously phoney backdrops. John McIntire has a delightful cameo as Corky, a fisherman desperate to avoid marriage to the woman who owns his boat, and Bickford may well have (as bmacv says) the heaviest Swedish accent since Greta Garbo in "Anna Christie", but as Garbo was Swedish I'd say he nailed the accent. He and McIntire were character actors who never let you down. It all adds up to an engrossing and satisfying film.

Clumsily directed by B-picture veteran George Sherman from a confusing script by Ernest K. Gann, based on his own novel, this film suffers from having no focus, despite some first-rate actors like Richard Conte, Shelley Winters, and Charles Bickford doing their best to make their scenes work. The weakest link is wooden Alex Nicol, handsome but inadequate as either the unhappy son of the sea captain or as the sometime love interest. This might have been a decent redemption story-small time SF gangster finds surrogate father at sea-but the factory owners at Universal obviously did not think that was enough to hold an audience's interest so that emotional thread is constantly being interrupted by a police story, a love subplot, and some heavy-handed comedy. This is one of those justifiably forgotten programmers that someone with talent should try to remake with a better script.

I like Conte in this film, but the entertainment comes from the supporting actors....McIntyre & Bickford. Also, I wouldn't call this Film Noire, just a good old B&W. The SF and Fisherman's Wharf shots are historically interesting, if you know the City.

The name Charles Bickford made me interested in this film, because I knew from experience he is never a disappointment. Richard Conte is as he always is, a steel skeleton of a noir gangster, but here he develops into something more interesting. The film begins with his escape from a murder he has committed, which escape goes wrong, and he ends up on a fishing boat, on which Charles Bickford is the skipper. His only crew is his son Carl, who isn't good as a crew, hates the job and is no good for a son. Richard Conte's dame is Shelley Winters, who is also invariably good in often delicate roles of exposed sensitivity on a downhill course, and the police is in contact with her. However, Richard Conte goes fishing and becomes a fisherman, taught the profession by Bickford, who dominates the film and makes it a positive experience. This is not really any noir but an interesting study in the development of characters when exposed to sore trials and thorough tests of character. In this test everyone in the film is a winner. To this comes an impressing score by Frank Skinner, George Sherman's direction is as impressing as the cinematography, and the storm concluding the drama is for real. This is one of those films which are easy to have some premature ideas of, because of Richard Conte and Shelley Winters, but you should never have any expectations, and if it turns out different than you thought, the more will be your reward for having known nothing about it.

An odd fish of a movie, The Raging Tide spins a yarn of crime and redemption, of the city and the sea. It opens as though it's going to be another installment in the noir cycle, with Richard Conte gunning down a rival in cold blood, phoning in a tip to the police, and fleeing to his meticulously planned alibi. Well, maybe not so meticulously, as his girlfriend (Shelly Winters) isn't where he expected her to be. So he stows away on a boat moored at Fisherman's Wharf and is well out to sea when he's discovered by skipper Charles Bickford and his son (Alex Nichol). The bounding main proves a convenient hideout, so he signs on and, improbably, comes to relish the seafaring life. Meanwhile, back in San Francisco, police detective Steven McNally grills Winters about Conte's whereabouts. (He's one tough cop, telling her `You're an old-looking 23.') But she keeps mum, while go-between Nichol brings her messages from Conte, who won't set foot on land. Relationships among the principals intertwine: Bickford, having problems with his unruly son, takes a shine to Conte, while Nichol falls for Winters. Then Conte hatches a scheme to frame Nichol for the murder he's wanted for, using Winters as his cat's paw. But a big storm blows in.... The Raging Tide boasts solid, if slightly hammy, performances; even Bickford manages to crawl out from under the heaviest Svedish accent since Anna Christie. The picture's all but stolen by John McIntyre as a penniless old salt trying to escape the attentions of Minerva Urecal, though his function in the story never becomes clear. And that story, sentimental and a bit old-fashioned, stays strong enough to compel interest, surviving even the inevitable disappointment that comes when its noir elements go full fathom five.