For what seemed the bulk of his career Victor Mature was regarded as something of an acting joke not least by himself and he developed a nice line in self-deprecation. In the nineteen forties however he made a handful of films in which he turned in decent performances - Kiss of Death, Moss Rose, I Wake Up Screaming and this entry, Robert Siodmak's Cry Of The City which co-stars him with Richard Conte in our old chestnut friend, the one about the two guys from the same tough neighbourhood one who takes the easy way out and becomes a hood (see Jimmy Cagney) and one who becomes one of the good guys (see Pat O'Brien). This time around it's Richard Conte who remains a hood and Victor Mature who becomes a cop. Robert Siodmak was, of course, a German émigré who fled from the Nazis, would up in Hollywood and brought with him a highly developed feel for 'noir' and a touch of the expressionism so that his movies were always worth watching. This is no exception and if Fred Clark makes an unlikely cop the Mature-Conte psychological dual more than compensates. Vastly underrated it remains a first-class example of film noir.

Robert Siodmak never failed when it came to Film Noir ("Criss Cross", "Phantom Lady", etc) and doesn't disappoint here with "Cry Of The City", which is as tough and as gritty a noir as you will find. Tense and taut from beginning to finish, this picture has no dead spots and no 'down' time as Siodmak keeps the story moving at breakneck speed. The plot centers on two Hollywood second-stringers in Victor Mature and Richard Conte, who give excellent performances and put the story over in a convincing manner.Mature is the cop, Conte the hoodlum, who has murdered a cop and escapes from a hospital. Mature and his partner, Fred Clark, must find him before he leaves the country. Also in the cast are Berry Kroeger as a slimy lawyer, Shelley Winters as (what else?) a bimbo/ floozy and Hope Emerson as a 'contact' to help Conte in his getaway. Emerson was terrific, and her sinister presence makes you think she should have made more movies.They don't make 'em like this anymore, movies or directors. I thought Victor Mature was perfect as a straight cop with a sensitive side, better even than he was in "I Wake Up Screaming" or "Kiss Of Death". I would put this one right behind "Out Of The Past", which is my favorite of the noir genre.

This is film-noir at its best. In fact, this is the way they used to make great films.Victor Mature, as the cop, and Richard Conte, the criminal, star in this terrific film.The film shows that despite an excellent upbringing by a Conservative Italian Catholic family, Conte chose a life of crime and he is about to be joined by his kid brother who idolizes him.When Conte breaks out of jail, the fun really begins with everyone in hot pursuit for him.The picture is aided by a fine supporting cast. Hope Emerson, who was Oscar nominated in 1951 for "Caged," shows her mettle here as a hard-boiled tough lady involved in a jewel heist. This must have been Shelley Winters' first film and she makes the most out of it as one of the many Conte girls who drives him around. Debra Paget, who is only 15 years of age here, plays a sweet, innocent thing involved with Conte. She is the love of his life. Bette Garde, so memorable as Wanda Skutnik in "Call Northside 777" plays a nurse who shields Paget. We have Fred Clark as a fellow cop in a pretty serious role for him.What makes this film so good is that it shows how innocent, decent people could be drawn into Conte's web. The bullets may fly in this film but they're well on target.

With his silky manners and glittering eyes, Richard Conte was a prince among hoodlums: elegant, magnetic and sharp as a shiv. As the mugs and roughnecks of the early thirties evolved into more sophisticated postwar gangsters, Conte's regal bearing gloved the gangster's raw aggression in smooth style. (Significantly, he was one of the first Italian-American leading men in Hollywood.) Conte always looks like he's plugged into some private source of electricity, like you could get a shock from touching him. He needs that intensity here, since he plays a wounded criminal who spends most of the movie lying in bed or limping around, dragging a gunshot-riddled leg and crumpling with pain. He still manages to radiate menace and charisma, threatening or seducing everyone who comes near him.Plot-wise, CRY OF THE CITY is that old chestnut about two boys from the same neighborhood (New York's Little Italy, presented with far more nuance and authenticity than Hollywood's usual spaghetti-with-meatballs style) who grow up on opposite sides of the law. Lieutenant Candella (Victor Mature) pursues Martin Rome (Conte) relentlessly after he escapes from a prison hospital; Rome is determined to clear his girlfriend of suspicion in a jewel theft by finding the real culprits. The plot is just a scaffolding to support a series of scenes in which Rome and Candella alternately vie for leverage and influence over an eclectic parade of supporting characters, all of whom seem driven by fear or greed. Desperation inhabits the city like weather. Director Siodmak, one of the masters of film noir, suffuses the film with a dark mood, atmospheric locations, and those corrupted personal transactions that define the genre.In a hospital in the middle of the night a priest murmurs and family-members weep quietly over a dying man who is chained to his bed—Martin Rome has just killed a cop in a shoot-out. Later, after he has escaped and collapsed again, his girl (Shelley Winters in a leopard-print coat) enlists an unlicensed foreign doctor to treat him in the back seat while they drive around damp city streets, using neon signs for light. Stolen jewels get stashed in a locker in a subway station. Marty almost meets his match in a massive, burly masseuse (Hope Emerson), who looms over him as he works his bright-eyed, caressing charm. Their scene together is funny, scary and perversely titillating all at once, as the mountainous woman starts to massage his back and then gets her hands around his throat. Sadder is Marty's seduction of a plain, middle-aged hospital nurse who is burdened, we later find out, with a nasty, selfish, annoying old mother. At one point Candella reads off to Marty a list of all the former girlfriends the cop has had to look up, and Marty amusingly reacts to each name with regret, embarrassment or fondness. For this tough guy, sex appeal is as powerful a weapon as a gun or a knife—sometimes it's the only one he has.All the time we're rooting for Marty—at least I was. CRY OF THE CITY perfectly demonstrates how easily movies can mess with one's moral compass. Marty is a killer and a selfish, remorseless crook, but his élan and vulnerability make him an irresistible underdog. His adversary, Candella, is a self-righteous moralizer, a monomaniacal Javert whose hatred seems inspired more by his enemy's charisma than by his crimes. Victor Mature's heavy, stolid presence sharply contrasts with Conte's proud, dazzling quickness. Someone once described Mature as an intelligent actor cursed with the face and physique of a dissipated life guard; I forget who wrote that, but it hits the nail on the head. The poor guy *looked* like a bad actor—all beef and no brains—even though he wasn't. Here his scenes with the Rome family are intended to soften his character, and he does have likable moments, but the way he turns them all—finally even the kid brother—against Marty only increased my sympathy for the endangered outcast. His accusation that Marty uses people is fair enough, but he lays it on too thick; it wasn't Marty's idea to enlist the illegal doctor or the "trusty" who helps him break out of jail. Booming, "Stop in the name of the law!" Candella embodies implacable authority, and who could root for that?I like to think that in real life superficial concerns like these wouldn't get in the way of my knowing right from wrong, but this is a movie; style is bound to trump substance. Are films like this one—made under the Hays Code, when movies were not allowed to openly glorify criminals—deliberately subversive? The script says one thing, but the casting says another. In a way, that hypocrisy is essential to noir, an under-the-radar phenomenon that made caustic comments about human nature while ostensibly endorsing the Ten Commandments. For Martin Rome, a premature death isn't too high a price to pay for all the fun he had breaking the rules. And a clichéd ending is not too high a price for the pleasure of this movie.