The Killing (1956)
Stanley Kubrick had been making films for several years prior to The Killing, but for many this is considered his first real film. The first one with some studio backing, the first perfectly realized work, and the first film of his to fit in his filmography as a Kubrickian work of art. Still amongst his future films, this was the most modest and low-key among his pictures. The one that took the shortest to film, find, realize, and eventually to catch on. The film wasn't a tremendous success, but it did help set up his next picture deal with MGM for Paths of Glory. Over the years though, The Killing has been elevated as one of the best caper films ever made and the first sign that Stanley Kubrick was an auteur for the ages.
The style of the film fits into the somewhat then outdated noir. The nature of the story lends itself to other film noirs, most notably John Huston's The Asphalt Jungle (also starring Sterling Hayden). The use of a narrator was long a convention of noir, but here it is used more like the pseudo-documentary voice over personified in Henry Hathaway's films. The narrator in this story is not a character, but a resilient commentator on the facts of it all. The voice over comes across as a police inspector reading a report to a commissioner. Everything is to the minute, and it is removed of any frills. Unlike Hathaway's films, and other pictures using this type of omniscient narrator, this isn't just used to set up the story. Up until the last 10 minutes of the film the all present "voice of god" is being used, and to great effect. This isn't a film that tinkers with a style then abandons it as things progress. This film is realized from beginning to end, and in more ways than one it was a radical departure from most films of the genre and time.
The revolutionary narrative structure wasn't completely Kubrick's idea. He and producer Jim Harris were particularly impressed with Lionel White's comparatively unknown Clean Break, and its handling of time was the major appeal to the duo for making the film. The book sets up the structure, and it was simply Kubrick's task to transfer it to the screen. Like usual he handled screenwriting chores, but a great majority of the dialogue was written by Jim Thompson. Thompson as well as Kubrick avoid using too many noir clichés, the dialogue seems natural and normal, far from the stylized double talk associated with other pictures in the genre. The film has a gritty appeal to it, that makes it much more potent than the typical noir film. For starters the exteriors of this film mix a lot of stock footage, used extensively in the racing scenes. For the indoor sets, Kubrick makes all his spaces small. Rather than position a camera dead center, Kubrick uses his camera to wander all over the rooms, exploring all their angles and letting us know what type of cramped atmosphere his characters live in. Since this film was a studio production, it had to adhere to union rules, which meant for the first time Kubrick wasn't able to shoot his own film. The well respected Lucien Ballard shot the film, but got into extensive disagreements with Kubrick when he refused to shoot the planned tracking shots with a 25 mm lens. Kubrick not only shot his previous films, but before that had a career as a photographer, so he knew what could be done with a camera, and eventually he won out. The result are some jarring images, that give the film its own original look. The wide angle lens keeps everything in focus, and the carefully wandering camera establishes the predominant visual style that would inhabit nearly all of Kubrick's future films.
Adding to the realism is a preference for natural light. Much of the apartment scenes are dark and shot with only one source of light. In one memorable encounter between George (Elisha Cook) and his wife Sherry (Marie Windsor) they have a fight with only a lamp lighting their faces from directly under them. The photographic effect is similar to the one of the illuminating mystery contents of the suitcase in Robert Aldrich's Kiss Me Deadly (1955). Natural light was used to great extent in future Kubrick films as well, most notoriously Barry Lyndon (1975). Here, along with the stock footage, narrator, and camera work, it helps add to an observatory feel to the film. Even the music helps to add some sense of realism. Scenes shot in apartments have a jazz score that sounds as if its coming from a radio, whereas the scenes outside and at the racetrack have more of a professional movie score tone to them. The contrast in music is a vital component to the feel of the picture.
The structure of the film is nothing new to modern audiences who have generally grown accustomed to seeing scenes from different characters points of view, but watching The Killing you get a different sense of things. Not a lot does repeat, and the story does have a fairly linear progression. It is primarily through sound that the elliptical nature hits us. We hear about the horse being shot over a radio, after we have witnessed Nikki (Tim Carey) shoot it. One line of dialogue is repeated when Kola (Maurice Oboukhoff) is about to start his distracting fight. We witness the fight in detail before we see where Johnny (Sterling Hayden) disappears to. When we hear the line repeat from Johnny's point of view we almost anticipate a second round. Kola's fight is one of the most entertaining scenes in the movie, and involves him having his shirt ripped off and a large display of wrestling moves. Oboukhoff was a non-professional actor that Kubrick met while playing chess. He is absolutely perfect for this role though and it winds up being one of the films many inspired pieces of casting. In fact everyone in the film is perfect in their roles, and perhaps the only downside is that some characters, particularly Fay (Coleen Gray) aren't on screen enough.
Overshadowing Jonny and Fay, are George and Sherry. Kubrick is much better at showing a couple at odds than one in love, and its no surprise that he focuses his attention on these two very mismatched partners. Marie Windsor was a go-to girl for B-movies and film noir roles, and she is perfect here. From the moment we meet her we're convinced she's unfaithful, uncaring, and that she'll be the downfall of at least George. Their relationship is in shambles and its summed up when he asks for dinner.
"There's steak, asparagus, potatoes" - Sherry
"Well I don't smell anything" - George
"That's because you haven't gone far enough. They're down at the grocery store" - Sherry
With a woman like that, who doesn't work, won't cook, and doesn't look like she's ready or willing to have kids, you can't help but wonder why in hell's name they're together. George even asks her why she married him, and there is no answer. She found a dope, but he wasn't even wealthy. The love is all on George's side, and Elisha Cook is so damn good at being pathetic that we're instantly on his side although we can't help wanting to smack some damn sense into the poor bastard. His revenge against his double-crossing wife though remains possibly the films most rewarding moment.
Although certain censorship rules prevented anyone being shot and dying in the same shot, Kubrick's film is decidedly more graphic than most. For starters there's actually blood, and quite a bit of it. We don't see everyone get shot, but in a great subjective POV shot of George we see the pile of bodies as he leaves the apartment. When we see George his face is covered in blood and we sense he only has enough strength left over to get home and get even. In a wonderful bit of irony, Sherry says "It's not fair" as she drops to the ground. Even in death she can't realize what a lecherous tramp she is.
I don't want to talk about the ending for those who haven't seen it, but damn it if it isn't one of the funniest moments in Kubrick history. Everyone involved is dead, Nikki was shot by the black security guard, everyone else dies during the double-cross, and Kola was already paid. We're lead to believe Johnny has a clean slate, but again Hollywood ethics make us think he can't quite get away with it. When we hear the speech being made about checking the bag and not being able to take it on the plane, Kubrick is simply buying time. We know something is brewing. We're also shown a rather annoying old woman with a wimpy little poodle and at first we think this is just a grotesque Kubrick back character. Yet knowing Kubrick nothing is "just there", so we start doing the math. When Johnny agrees to have the suitcase taken away, we know that this set up will pay off. Then outside the dog runs away, the baggage driver swerves, and of all the suitcases, Johnny's (which he double checked the locks when he packed it) is the only one that falls and opens. In the blink of an eye all the money seems to evaporate. Looking at Hayden's face afterwards we see a comical look of absolute devastation. When the guards come to apprehend him we know he doesn't care, he lost and we can't help chuckle that after all that planning and meticulous detail, this is how it all goes to hell. I could probably watch that last scene over and over again and never get tired of it, but then again I say that about nearly all of Kubrick's films. A first rate work from a director who would spend the next several decades building a reputation as the greatest filmmaker of all time.
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