Under SciFiHistory.Net’s ‘Monsters Of A Sort’ category, I take a look at more conventional productions that kinda/sorta dabble in sensibilities very close to (if not downright demonstrative of) Film Noir and/or the silver screen mystery. Despite maintaining a heavy (and near constant) diet of genre projects, I’m not always satiated by just SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror; so I do like – from time-to-time – to add a little substance from these other realms. It helps widen my perspective. It helps cleanse my palate. It keeps me fresh … and a ‘fresh me’ is good for all of you, my faithful readers.
Today’s distraction is 1949’s Follow Me Quietly.
The film was directed by Richard Fleischer from a screenplay attributed to Lillie Hayward, Anthony Mann, and Francis Rosenwald. I’d come across Hayward’s name before in my reading on such genre entries as The Walking Dead (1936), The Undying Monster (1942), and The Shaggy Dog (1959); while I can’t say all that much else about her overall career, I can say a quick glance at her resume suggests she at some point developed a fondness for spinning yarns with animals featured prominently in them. Rosenwald shows attached (via IMDB.com) to such properties as an episode of Rocky Jones Space Ranger, The Magnetic Moon (1956), a few episodes of Men Into Space, and The Leech Woman (1960). Though Mann’s profile shows a few writing credits, his real background was in directing; and – unless I’m confused – he had a rather storied time bringing some of the better black-and-white crime B-Movies to life. Follow Me Quietly starred William Lundigan, Dorothy Patrick, Jeff Corey, Nestor Paiva, Charles D. Brown, and others.
As per my usual format, the film’s synopsis appears below. My two cents on its construction follows.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An obsessed cop tracks an elusive serial killer who strangles his victims on rainy nights.”
On the DVD slipcase for Follow Me Quietly, director Fleischer admits that this film – not his theatrical debut but definitely one of his earliest efforts – taught him the foundation of how to go about constructing screen stories. Having now watched it and knowing full well that his talent is associated with a great number of prominent genre flicks throughout storied time in the business, I’ve no doubt of the skills he tapped here. Follow moves with an incredible efficiency, some of which could be argued is owed to its lean and meaning running length (59 minutes). Montages are meaningful and brisk, and scenes capably focus on key players without ignoring that bit of flavor present in the background to give a location its required authenticity. Sequences flow organically one to the next throughout the picture, so much so that he likely saw little need to pack in anything that might’ve hijacked or slowed the venture.
Essentially, the sterling mecca of New York City, New York is being terrorized by a self-made serial killer who calls himself ‘The Judge.’ The only link between these various murders is the fact that The Judge apparently likes to conduct his nasty business on days when its raining, so the police – namely Lt. Harry Grant (played by William Lundigan) – has few leads. Crack reporter Ann Gorman (Dorothy Patrick) has been assigned by her magazine to shine a little light on the campaign of horror for the readers, so she finagles a way into Grant’s inner circle by eventually pointing out that the assassin might very well have a fondness for previously published pulp-style magazines and may be perusing them for prospective targets. In somewhat predictable fashion, this is the clue the officer has been searching for; and – before all is said and done – he’ll nab not only the guilty culprit but the heart of the comely journalist as well.
In case you missed it, Follow isn’t all that deep as screen stories go; and neither are any of its characters. The serial killer Charlie Roy (Edwin Max) elaborates upon no major manifesto as to why he’s taken it upon himself to clean up what he sees as New York’s dirty streets, nor do the police assigned to the case offer up any compelling theories as to why they believe the man may’ve descended into this campaign of bloody retribution (if that’s what it is). In typical whodunnit fashion, the cops discover a few ominous notes written with cut-out letters; but not even this amounts to much more than a gimmick put to respectable use. In fact, Grant and his fellow lawmen spend the bulk of the investigation without any usable description of the culprit, a fact that has them assembling a faceless, life-sized dummy to – ahem – use in line-ups and the like. It’s all a bit contrived – not in a good way – but it does give these LEOs something with which to fill their time waiting for the next big break.
That bit of lunacy aside, the only other thing missing from Follow are characters that stretch beyond stock players. Lundigan plays the prototypical hunky cop like a ladies’ man when it’s needed; and Gorman is obviously smitten with him as a prospective mate from the get-go. Their eventual pairing in the closing scenes is the kind of moment 1940’s features threw in to suggest love was written in the stars; and, yes, it mostly cheapens an otherwise pedestrian caper. Even actor Jeff Corey as Sergeant Art Collins never amounts to anything greater than the other half of an amiable ‘buddy cop’ feature, though the man manages to rather effortlessly rise above what little characterization the script affords.
Follow Me Quietly (1949) was produced by RKO Radio Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at the Warner Archive Collection. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are likely the best they’ll ever be; and, yes, Follow has some good visuals but what it gets pitch perfect is the effective seamlessly across the entire affair. Some older flicks are a bit choppily editing: this one isn’t, and it’s a fabulous demonstration of film editing done right. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Sigh. Well, there are a few theatrical shorts common to the era and the theatrical trailer, but that’s all there is. Disappointing.
Recommended.
As a Film Noir, Follow Me Quietly really only resonates in a few spots, with director Fleischer really choosing a more conventional cinematographically approach to the classic screen whodunnit. (Mind you: there’s no way to solve this while watching, so its mystery elements are also a bit light.) With a run-time of a mere 59 minutes (gasp!), one might question whether or not there’s enough story in here … and, yet, it actually all works quite swimmingly from start-to-finish. What’s missing – to any measurable degree – is any character development: the cast is basically ‘what you see is what you get,’ and – especially with Noirs – I do like a bit more. This one won’t be any favorites, but it’s still quite good.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at the Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Follow Me Quietly (1949) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Today’s distraction is 1949’s Follow Me Quietly.
The film was directed by Richard Fleischer from a screenplay attributed to Lillie Hayward, Anthony Mann, and Francis Rosenwald. I’d come across Hayward’s name before in my reading on such genre entries as The Walking Dead (1936), The Undying Monster (1942), and The Shaggy Dog (1959); while I can’t say all that much else about her overall career, I can say a quick glance at her resume suggests she at some point developed a fondness for spinning yarns with animals featured prominently in them. Rosenwald shows attached (via IMDB.com) to such properties as an episode of Rocky Jones Space Ranger, The Magnetic Moon (1956), a few episodes of Men Into Space, and The Leech Woman (1960). Though Mann’s profile shows a few writing credits, his real background was in directing; and – unless I’m confused – he had a rather storied time bringing some of the better black-and-white crime B-Movies to life. Follow Me Quietly starred William Lundigan, Dorothy Patrick, Jeff Corey, Nestor Paiva, Charles D. Brown, and others.
As per my usual format, the film’s synopsis appears below. My two cents on its construction follows.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“An obsessed cop tracks an elusive serial killer who strangles his victims on rainy nights.”
On the DVD slipcase for Follow Me Quietly, director Fleischer admits that this film – not his theatrical debut but definitely one of his earliest efforts – taught him the foundation of how to go about constructing screen stories. Having now watched it and knowing full well that his talent is associated with a great number of prominent genre flicks throughout storied time in the business, I’ve no doubt of the skills he tapped here. Follow moves with an incredible efficiency, some of which could be argued is owed to its lean and meaning running length (59 minutes). Montages are meaningful and brisk, and scenes capably focus on key players without ignoring that bit of flavor present in the background to give a location its required authenticity. Sequences flow organically one to the next throughout the picture, so much so that he likely saw little need to pack in anything that might’ve hijacked or slowed the venture.
Essentially, the sterling mecca of New York City, New York is being terrorized by a self-made serial killer who calls himself ‘The Judge.’ The only link between these various murders is the fact that The Judge apparently likes to conduct his nasty business on days when its raining, so the police – namely Lt. Harry Grant (played by William Lundigan) – has few leads. Crack reporter Ann Gorman (Dorothy Patrick) has been assigned by her magazine to shine a little light on the campaign of horror for the readers, so she finagles a way into Grant’s inner circle by eventually pointing out that the assassin might very well have a fondness for previously published pulp-style magazines and may be perusing them for prospective targets. In somewhat predictable fashion, this is the clue the officer has been searching for; and – before all is said and done – he’ll nab not only the guilty culprit but the heart of the comely journalist as well.
In case you missed it, Follow isn’t all that deep as screen stories go; and neither are any of its characters. The serial killer Charlie Roy (Edwin Max) elaborates upon no major manifesto as to why he’s taken it upon himself to clean up what he sees as New York’s dirty streets, nor do the police assigned to the case offer up any compelling theories as to why they believe the man may’ve descended into this campaign of bloody retribution (if that’s what it is). In typical whodunnit fashion, the cops discover a few ominous notes written with cut-out letters; but not even this amounts to much more than a gimmick put to respectable use. In fact, Grant and his fellow lawmen spend the bulk of the investigation without any usable description of the culprit, a fact that has them assembling a faceless, life-sized dummy to – ahem – use in line-ups and the like. It’s all a bit contrived – not in a good way – but it does give these LEOs something with which to fill their time waiting for the next big break.
That bit of lunacy aside, the only other thing missing from Follow are characters that stretch beyond stock players. Lundigan plays the prototypical hunky cop like a ladies’ man when it’s needed; and Gorman is obviously smitten with him as a prospective mate from the get-go. Their eventual pairing in the closing scenes is the kind of moment 1940’s features threw in to suggest love was written in the stars; and, yes, it mostly cheapens an otherwise pedestrian caper. Even actor Jeff Corey as Sergeant Art Collins never amounts to anything greater than the other half of an amiable ‘buddy cop’ feature, though the man manages to rather effortlessly rise above what little characterization the script affords.
Follow Me Quietly (1949) was produced by RKO Radio Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at the Warner Archive Collection. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are likely the best they’ll ever be; and, yes, Follow has some good visuals but what it gets pitch perfect is the effective seamlessly across the entire affair. Some older flicks are a bit choppily editing: this one isn’t, and it’s a fabulous demonstration of film editing done right. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Sigh. Well, there are a few theatrical shorts common to the era and the theatrical trailer, but that’s all there is. Disappointing.
Recommended.
As a Film Noir, Follow Me Quietly really only resonates in a few spots, with director Fleischer really choosing a more conventional cinematographically approach to the classic screen whodunnit. (Mind you: there’s no way to solve this while watching, so its mystery elements are also a bit light.) With a run-time of a mere 59 minutes (gasp!), one might question whether or not there’s enough story in here … and, yet, it actually all works quite swimmingly from start-to-finish. What’s missing – to any measurable degree – is any character development: the cast is basically ‘what you see is what you get,’ and – especially with Noirs – I do like a bit more. This one won’t be any favorites, but it’s still quite good.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at the Warner Archive (via Allied Vaughn) provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Follow Me Quietly (1949) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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