Dir.: Mark Robson
Plot: An army psychologist tries to help his patient, a mentally unstable black soldier, by digging into the memories of racism and deadly combat which caused him to suffer a breakdown.
One of the lovely things about liking classic cinema is that sometimes you stumble on a significant actor, an actress or even a whole genre you never even knew existed. How many of us, if it weren't for references in Barton Fink and the remake of The Champ, would even be aware of the 'wrestling picture' phenomenon that doubtless made heaps more money than half the artistic dramas we associate with that era? This was one of those moments for me. I knew that the late Forties saw a clash of two films exposing anti-Semitism (the good but rather overrated Crossfire and the appallingly underrated Gentlemen's Agreement), but I never knew that these years, in particular 1949, were notable for a sudden rush of 'tolerance movies' and 'Negro problem pictures'. Coming after Truman's 1948 integration of the armed forces, suddenly black issues were all the rage. Movies like Pinky and Lost Boudaries (both 1949) dealt with the anguish of blacks 'passing', sometimes their whole adult lives, for white. Films began to realise that black people existed as people rather than as porters or maids, and began at last to go some way to answer Myrna Loy's challenge "How about a black person walking up the steps of a court house carrying a briefcase?".
The hero of this particular story is not a lawyer or a doctor (we would have to wait another year to see Sidney Poitier as a determined black intern in No Way Out), but an educated professional nonetheless: Peter Moss, an Army surveyor in the Pacific theatre. Having volunteered for a dangerous island mission, he is delighted to be reunited with his white schoolmate Finch (a winning Lloyd Bridges) in a crack squadron. However, the three other members of the mission are not so delighted to be working alongside a 'coloured' soldier, particularly misguided bigot T.J. Trapped together in effectively sweaty jungle warfare, the men do not predictably learn that race is just colour and it's really about who you are inside blah blah blah... In actual fact, the events of the mission cause the black soldier severe psychological trauma and land him in a military mental ward, which is where the story begins, with the war sequences played out in flashback.
James Edwards is stunning in the lead, handling the 'believability with occasional flashes of melodrama' this kind of movie thrives on. He is essentially playing three roles: Moss as a gifted but already worldly-wise student, as a toughened soldier slowly cracking up and as a full-blown trauma victim. Less flashy and more human than many of the roles that Poitier would play a few years after, Edwards is a wonderful actor and deserved to enjoy Poitier's level of success - rumour has it that a tryst with a well-known white actress killed his career. Lloyd Bridges is also a delight as Moss' white schoolfriend, whose love for Moss shows itself as a deliberate naiviety that he is unwilling to relinquish. He prefers to pretend that racism doesn't exist and that there is no barrier between his world and that of his friend, even when the abyss is painfully apparent.
The other members filling out the cast are for the most part decent, too - Steve Brodie perfectly captures T.J's petty unpleasantness and insensitivity rather than going for a broad redneck portrayal and Frank Lovejoy does his best as the remaining member of the squad, whose characterisation is left pretty blank by the script. Jeff Corey is truly appalling as the doctor treating Moss, though, and the fact that he apparently taught acting only makes it more so. It is of course possible that he was not on his A-game here, delivering every line like the narrator of an old-timey public safety documentary.
That aside, the performances and a script which is ahead of its time for nuanced treatment of prejudice make this a great early 'Negro problem' picture. One of the very rare post-Hayes Code films to feature the word 'nigger', its use is jolting and powerful indeed, doubly shocking coming from the mouths of Classic-era actors. The deep characterisation of Moss and his emotional trauma is probably the most complete and human depiction of a black person we would see until the Sixties, making the obvious but until then unrecognised point that 'Negroes' suffered psychological anguish as well as whites, that they felt as deeply as them. For this reason, the movie has aged well and will reward anyone that takes the time to search it out with a tense, sweaty war-race melange in the best dramatic tradition.
8.5/10
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