John Farrow’s The Big Clock (1948) is the movie equivalent
of a delightfully tense page-turner. Based on Kenneth Fearing’s novel and
adapted by Jonathan Latimer, it’s one of the minor classic of film-noir
(although it crosses into light-hearted comedy territory now and then). The
movie opens with the camera panned over the city’s dark skyline, few windows
basking under lights. The camera slowly zooms in on the Janoth Building,
entering one of its lower floors’ unlighted windows and captures a man moving
in the shadows of the labyrinthine building. The man is George Stroud (Ray Milland), wearing an expensive buisiness suit but his face shows unrest and
mortal fear.
He enters into the most complex structure within the building: a
gigantic mechanical clock whose inner bowels are decorated with spiraling iron
stairs, dials, gauges, and a control board. Through the window slats of clock
tower, the man frustratingly looks at the guards prowling on the corridors and begins
to address viewers, like every cornered film-noir hero: “How did I get into
this rat race anyway? Just thirty-six hours ago I was down there, crossing that
lobby on my way to work. A guy with a good job, a wife, and a kid. A respected
member of the community.” Yes indeed, how did George Stroud get into this
position?
In the flashback, George is a lively, gregarious person with
an extremely clever investigative mind which makes him perfect for the editor
position of Crimeways magazine, its office situated on the top floor of Janoth
Publications. Early in the narrative, we see George Stroud getting into the
elevator at ground floor and we get a swift look at the other facets of the
building: Newsways, Sportways, Styleways,
etc. The buildings and its employess are tyrannically ruled by beady-eyed
fascist, sporting a Hitler-like moustache, named Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton).
Mr. Janoth himself micromanages every action within the structure
(down to the light bulb forgotten to be switched off in the broom closet, asking to ‘dock the pay’ of one responsible) and his personal will fully
dominates the lives of his employees. By the end of the day, George will be
taking his long-deffered vacation with wife Georgette (Maureen O’ Sullivan) and
his little son. Since George is on the cusp of cracking a sensational case,
Janoth denies holiday at the last minute, jeopardizing George’s already
fractured relationship with Georgette.
Miffed, George expresses his rage for Janoth to a colleague. He laments
that he should have never given-up the low-paying job at small-town newspaper
in West Virginia. Janoth’s forced attempt, however, doesn’t work because George
quits his work and doesn’t care about Janoth ‘blacklisting’ his name in
publication business. But in one of his favorite hang out bar, George meets a
‘beautiful blonde’ Pauline York (Rita Johnson) whose nemesis happens to be
Janoth and only recently she was his mistress.
Time flies and later when George
phones home, after nearly missing the train, the maid says his wife and kid
have left without him. Annoyed by this, George visits different bars with
Pauline and gets drunk. He ends up in Pauline’s apartment (of course fully
clothed) and is waked up when Janoth pays an unannounced visit. She sneaks out
George, but somehow Janoth catches the silhoutte of a man running down the
stairs. Inside Pauline’s apartment, raging doubt mixed with in-built malice
makes Janoth do an irreparable act, one that puts George’s future under threat.
The weird and exciting plot-twist in The Big Clock is George Stroud
getting assigned to find the mysterious man (actually himself) by Janoth and his
executive Steve Hagen, played George Macready (to frame the man for crime
committed by Janoth). Taking over this forced self-investigation, George
assigns his crew of investigative reporters to track the man and the blonde’s
movement through the city last night. The ensuing investigation is
part-hilarious and part-suspenseful as they uncaringly dissect one man’s
emotional nature and his life’s unsavory parts. George, known as the keenest
observer of human temperaments and actions, now faces his own choice of tool
used against him. It’s interesting because until now George has remained blind
to his own impulses.
Of course, The Big Clock isn’t a character study but a
thriller which elegantly milks the ‘mistaken identity’ factor to create
sumptuous cat-and-mouse pursuits. The script also makes good use of little
acting bits, providing uproarious comic relief. Elsa Lancester (The Bride of
Frankenstein) is particularly funny as the dotty painting artist (one among the
many who could identify the ‘man’ accompanying the blonde). The visit to her
house, overflowing with children and unsold art, and later her visit to Janoth
building provides joyful relief. Unlike many boringly good-hearted wives of
film-noir, Maureen O’ Sullivan as Georgette remains rightfully furious has
something pivotal to do (in assisting her husband to prove his innocence).
John Farrow’s direction expertly transforms George Stroud’s glitzy work
place into a nightmare, visualizing it as a maze where he plays hunter to
dispel his hunted status. The unerring clock is obviously used as a symbol to
denote the tyranny of Janoth. After evading his chasers, hailing from all the
corners of the building, George finally gets into the clock, the very nerve
center of Janoth’s empire, and accidentally stops the clock’s movement for a
moment. Janoth is panicked by the clock’s halt, muttering ‘It can’t have
stopped’. It makes him contemplate his own possible downfall. Farrow also
neatly packages the ending, diffusing a sense of poetic justice (by making the
‘fall’ literal). The performances are marvelous all around, spearheaded by
Laughton’s suave villainous turn.
Altogether, The Big Clock (95 minutes) is a
solid crime thriller of yesteryear with an impressive splash of humor (the film
was remade in 1987 by Roger Donaldson as ‘No Way Out’ with a political
backdrop).
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