Under SciFiHistory.Net’s ‘Monsters Of A Sort’ category, I take a look at features that kinda/sorta dabble in sensibilities very close to (if not downright demonstrative of) Film Noir, Neo-Noir, and/or the conventional or unconventional 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 titled Hollow Triumph (1948) or – as it might be known under its alternate title – The Scar. I’ve also seen it referenced by some online under the name of The Man Who Murdered Himself but I believe that was only the film’s name while in production. Sadly, information is a bit sketchy as it’s a project that fell into public domain; and a good many cuts apparently exist online as a result.
Based on the 1946 novel by Murray Forbes, the story was adapted for the silver screen by Daniel Fuchs and directed by Steve Sekely, though apparently Sekely was eventually dismissed, and star Paul Henreid took control of the reins. Alongside Henreid, the picture starred Joan Bennett, Eduard Franz, Leslie Brooks, John Qualen, and others. Essentially, it’s the tale of one man who steals another’s identity only to find that his troubled past has still caught up with him in ways he couldn’t possibly have foreseen.
(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 …)
Today’s distraction is titled Hollow Triumph (1948) or – as it might be known under its alternate title – The Scar. I’ve also seen it referenced by some online under the name of The Man Who Murdered Himself but I believe that was only the film’s name while in production. Sadly, information is a bit sketchy as it’s a project that fell into public domain; and a good many cuts apparently exist online as a result.
Based on the 1946 novel by Murray Forbes, the story was adapted for the silver screen by Daniel Fuchs and directed by Steve Sekely, though apparently Sekely was eventually dismissed, and star Paul Henreid took control of the reins. Alongside Henreid, the picture starred Joan Bennett, Eduard Franz, Leslie Brooks, John Qualen, and others. Essentially, it’s the tale of one man who steals another’s identity only to find that his troubled past has still caught up with him in ways he couldn’t possibly have foreseen.
(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:
“Pursued by the big-time gambler he robbed, John Muller assumes a new identity, with unfortunate results.”
As the saying goes, it’s sometimes difficult to teach an old dog a new trick; and that’s the case with ex-con John Müller (as played by Paul Henreid).
Upon his release from the big house, he rather quickly dips back into a life of crime, joining up with a small gang of hoodlums to pull a heist of an illegal casino run by Rocky Stansyck (Thomas Browne Henry). Things go awry, and not everyone gets away clean. Because Stansyck has a reputation of relentlessly tracking down those who’ve wronged him no matter how long it takes, Müller skips town to set up shop elsewhere, taking the job as an ordinary office grunt. When Stansyck’s goons eventually show up with the intention of putting him six feet under, Müller plots to assume the identity of big city psychoanalyst Dr. Victor Bartok – a professional whom he rather curiously almost exactly resembles – in hopes of hiding in plain sight. Through a somewhat elaborate ruse, Müller murders the man and disposes of his body. To his delight, it all works out easier than he could’ve hoped. No one even seems to notice that Bartok’s facial scar has curiously switched cheeks!
By assuming Bartok’s identity, Müller also gains access to the doctor’s personal life. Though secretly pining over the therapist’s secretary Evelyn Hahn (Joan Bennett), he soon learns that Bartok maintained a somewhat regular relationship with Virginia Taylor (Leslie Brooks). It’s here that Müller’s criminal past and Bartok’s criminal present curiously converge: it would seem that the good doctor was a bit of a gambler – not a very good one, at that – and he’s build up a rather sizable debt to the local Maxwell’s casino. The time has come for Bartok to pay up; and Müller doesn’t have the money. Naturally, this’ll have the ex-con doing what he does best, meaning he’ll take it on the lam, this time with the lovely Hahn – who’s learned his secret – in tow. But Fate is sometimes cruel, and Maxwell’s thugs intervene on the docks, shooting the faux doctor dead whilst Evie waits silently watching from top deck of the departing ship.
As a Film Noir, Hollow Triumph works reasonably well. Of course, one has to set aside the somewhat obvious contrivance of Bartok and Müller – both played by Henreid – looking like identical twins. That’s always the kind of thing audiences have to accept in tales of this sort, and Triumph is no different. The scar bit is a nice touch, but it’s really only used in small ways, so when Müller tries to use it in his defense to the gangster closing in on him methinks no one – not even watchers – are taking him seriously. Sadly, Henreid really plays both characters a bit too similarly – standing around, looking regal, giving pensive stares, smoking cigarettes, etc. – so there’s very little distinction between them, not that Bartok is around all that much. Still, some variance – even minor quirks – would’ve been appreciated for a little screen nuance.
“Pursued by the big-time gambler he robbed, John Muller assumes a new identity, with unfortunate results.”
As the saying goes, it’s sometimes difficult to teach an old dog a new trick; and that’s the case with ex-con John Müller (as played by Paul Henreid).
Upon his release from the big house, he rather quickly dips back into a life of crime, joining up with a small gang of hoodlums to pull a heist of an illegal casino run by Rocky Stansyck (Thomas Browne Henry). Things go awry, and not everyone gets away clean. Because Stansyck has a reputation of relentlessly tracking down those who’ve wronged him no matter how long it takes, Müller skips town to set up shop elsewhere, taking the job as an ordinary office grunt. When Stansyck’s goons eventually show up with the intention of putting him six feet under, Müller plots to assume the identity of big city psychoanalyst Dr. Victor Bartok – a professional whom he rather curiously almost exactly resembles – in hopes of hiding in plain sight. Through a somewhat elaborate ruse, Müller murders the man and disposes of his body. To his delight, it all works out easier than he could’ve hoped. No one even seems to notice that Bartok’s facial scar has curiously switched cheeks!
By assuming Bartok’s identity, Müller also gains access to the doctor’s personal life. Though secretly pining over the therapist’s secretary Evelyn Hahn (Joan Bennett), he soon learns that Bartok maintained a somewhat regular relationship with Virginia Taylor (Leslie Brooks). It’s here that Müller’s criminal past and Bartok’s criminal present curiously converge: it would seem that the good doctor was a bit of a gambler – not a very good one, at that – and he’s build up a rather sizable debt to the local Maxwell’s casino. The time has come for Bartok to pay up; and Müller doesn’t have the money. Naturally, this’ll have the ex-con doing what he does best, meaning he’ll take it on the lam, this time with the lovely Hahn – who’s learned his secret – in tow. But Fate is sometimes cruel, and Maxwell’s thugs intervene on the docks, shooting the faux doctor dead whilst Evie waits silently watching from top deck of the departing ship.
As a Film Noir, Hollow Triumph works reasonably well. Of course, one has to set aside the somewhat obvious contrivance of Bartok and Müller – both played by Henreid – looking like identical twins. That’s always the kind of thing audiences have to accept in tales of this sort, and Triumph is no different. The scar bit is a nice touch, but it’s really only used in small ways, so when Müller tries to use it in his defense to the gangster closing in on him methinks no one – not even watchers – are taking him seriously. Sadly, Henreid really plays both characters a bit too similarly – standing around, looking regal, giving pensive stares, smoking cigarettes, etc. – so there’s very little distinction between them, not that Bartok is around all that much. Still, some variance – even minor quirks – would’ve been appreciated for a little screen nuance.
Stylistically, the film is rather plain. There are some nice touches in spots, but overall its look is reasonably predictable. I’m not sure if this is owed to the fact that Sekely exited the production at some point and Henreid stepped in; but the vast majority of the staging is fairly predictable with noir’s usual shadows coming into play in a handful of scenes. Cinematography John Alton – a future Oscar winner – does squeeze in some great close-ups of Henreid; and Bennett – a blonde who reportedly switched to brunette in order to play the femme fatale in pictures – arguably looks fetching in every scene. For a story that retains a downward spiral throughout, perhaps I expected a bit more from a flick that some have suggested is one of the highlights of the genre. It’s good – it’s ending sequence is pretty top notch as Noir goes – but there’s a bit of plainness between several of its chapters, as it were.
Curiously, I was also struck by the fact that Hollow Triumph shares damn near the same ending as an earlier noir: 1938’s Algiers winds down with thief Pepe le Moko (Charles Boyer) meeting his demise as Gaby (Hedy Lamarr) watches for him from the desk of her departing ship, with even the blowing horn drowning out a central piece of the action. While I can appreciate the central similarity between the two tales – i.e. no matter what good they might do, these baddies simply cannot escape their fates – I can’t help but wonder if audiences of the day wondered about whether or not one flick influenced the other both on the drawing board and in the editing booth. Great minds think alike, but these two sequences play out almost identical … much like Bartok and Müller.
Lastly, it’s worth noting that – from what IMDB.com also reports – I may not have seen the complete film. IMDB.com shows Hollow Triumph’s running time as being 83 minutes, but the version I watched on YouTube.com cites a running time of 79 minutes. I have done a bit of research, and I’ve learned that there are multiple versions of the flick which may or may not have slightly different lengths. For posterity’s sake, I’ll keep my eyes open for a longer cut if and when the feature makes the rounds on Turner Classic Movies, MGM+, or elsewhere as I’d love to see all of it.
Hollow Triumph (1948) (aka The Scar) was produced by Bryan Foy Productions. Presently, the film does show available for rental or purchase via a variety of online platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are nonetheless solid – a bit grainy here and there, but that’s to be expected. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, as I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Hollow Triumph (1948) as I viewed it for free via the Information Superhighway.
-- EZ
Curiously, I was also struck by the fact that Hollow Triumph shares damn near the same ending as an earlier noir: 1938’s Algiers winds down with thief Pepe le Moko (Charles Boyer) meeting his demise as Gaby (Hedy Lamarr) watches for him from the desk of her departing ship, with even the blowing horn drowning out a central piece of the action. While I can appreciate the central similarity between the two tales – i.e. no matter what good they might do, these baddies simply cannot escape their fates – I can’t help but wonder if audiences of the day wondered about whether or not one flick influenced the other both on the drawing board and in the editing booth. Great minds think alike, but these two sequences play out almost identical … much like Bartok and Müller.
Lastly, it’s worth noting that – from what IMDB.com also reports – I may not have seen the complete film. IMDB.com shows Hollow Triumph’s running time as being 83 minutes, but the version I watched on YouTube.com cites a running time of 79 minutes. I have done a bit of research, and I’ve learned that there are multiple versions of the flick which may or may not have slightly different lengths. For posterity’s sake, I’ll keep my eyes open for a longer cut if and when the feature makes the rounds on Turner Classic Movies, MGM+, or elsewhere as I’d love to see all of it.
Hollow Triumph (1948) (aka The Scar) was produced by Bryan Foy Productions. Presently, the film does show available for rental or purchase via a variety of online platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are nonetheless solid – a bit grainy here and there, but that’s to be expected. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, as I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Hollow Triumph (1948) as I viewed it for free via the Information Superhighway.
-- EZ
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