From The Pen Of Frank Jackman- Those Old John Garfield Blues Once Again-“Body And Soul”

DVD Review

Body And Soul, starring John Garfield, Lilli Palmer, Assorted Productions, 1947

… he, Charley (played by John Garfield and his blues) he, was from hunger, was from hunger like a lot of guys, guys from East America, working class guys with small town hungers (and small dreams too) from places like North Adamsville, Olde Saco, and Waterville, except his hunger (and dream) was magnified by being near, Lower East Side Jewish tenement cold water flat where- is- the- next- pay- check-coming- from to ante up the rent and feed hungry (food hungry) kids near, the great white lights of New York City high life. Yah, he had the hunger bad, and the dream bad too, the 1930s jewish/hillbilly/polish/irish/downeast swamp yankee /french-canadian, name your ethnic group, dream of jailbreak from close quarters, from family necktie, from corner boy nickel and dime stuff, stuff beyond just getting by and being some soda jerk job serving egg creams, seltzer, two cents plain, and penny candy (milky ways, mary jane ,no, not that mary jane, tootsie rolls, milk duds, the fare of the Saturday matinee), to hurrying no time dream kids. And see, he had it figured, maybe not every way figured but a good part figured and he would ad lib, play by ear, play by luck the rest of it. Why? Well he had the fastest hands around, fastest fighting hands, boxing hands (other fast hands, fast girl hands too, but that’s for later) everybody said so. No jewish shy boy, some Talmudic intellectual, no goof, not yarmulke thrown on the ground by some rough-hewn heathen irish christ-believers victim he. Yah, he could throw a punch, take some too, and he had heart, a big immense sad sack heart.

But there were a million guys with fast hands, who could take a punch, and had plenty of heart in those hungry days so what was needed was a break, a timely break and that is what our boy Charley got, got with some very long strings attached. He became a prize fighter, a practitioner of the manly arts, a pug in front of large crowds. You know though that anything from cockroaches to rabbits to dogs to horses to human flesh that can be bet on comes attached with very long strings. And so Charley sold himself to the devil, or better to the man, to the connected man, the juice man. Grabbed that front dough, grabbed the deal, grabbed the out form hunger deal, with both hands. And because he had those fast hands that turned out to be just a bit faster than a lot of other guys with heart (some with real heart others, like in a lot of things, just looking for a big payday and so could be fast or slow on demand) he prospered, for a while. He got to see those bright white lights of New York City, real New York City, up close, until the other hand dropped and the day came when he too had to decide whether he could be slow or fast on demand. And in the end he was fast but not without about sixteen sweaty moments, and twenty hesitations. Yah, our boy Charley had all the heart in the whole wide world at the end and so guys from Podunk towns in East America (those dreaming hard-scrabble wide open field okies and arkies heading west to pick the crops would not have comprehended what was happening in the closed quarters East America) could cheer him on, cinematically anyway.

Oh yah, I said I would speak of those Charley other fast hands. Hell, a guy can’t go up in front of the bright lights alone, he needs something soft for those long nights in between bouts, sometime to be the toast of the town with. So Peg (played by Lili Palmer), a Village painter (if you need to ask what village just keep moving on) if you could figure such a clever gal going for a pug, no matter how fast his hands and his good looks, volunteered to be his sweetie. But see Peg has scrupled, big scruples about fighting, fixes, and giving friends (and your dear widowed mother as well) the short end of the stick on your way up and so for a very long time she held him at arms’length as he was blinded by the bright lights. Of course a champ, a champ of anything, with dough, with connections, and with a newfound taste for the wild side, and not afraid to pay for those thrills will not have to stand lonely and cold out on Fifth Avenue very long before some twist, Alice (played by Hazel Brooks) some lovely low bar chanteuse femme fatale, second class, drifts by. Frankly I would have played that frail out, that fast-spending Alice, played her out to the end, but that would have destroyed the uplift story line. If she is not doing anything tonight I could show her some fast hands. We’ll just let Charley and Peg fade into some Jersey bungalow with a couple of kids and a dog sunset.

From The Pen Of Joshua Lawrence Breslin- Those Old John Garfield Blues-“They Made Me a Criminal”- A Film Review

DVD Review

They Made Me A Criminal, starring John Garfield, Warner Brothers, 1939

…some guys, yah, some guys are just born palookas, accumulating woes, travails, trials and tribulations, flotsam and jetsam (if that can happen, cling to happen, to a guy) without working up a sweat just while breathing. You know beat angel guys from the wrong side of the tracks, trying, rolling the rock uphill trying, and having the damn thing coming rolling right back on them. Take Johnny in They Made Me A Criminal (played by John Garfield and his blues), Johnny the boxer, the world champ boxer, a guy who was sitting on top of the world, but who couldn’t leave the booze, the dames, or the con alone. The con (hell, maybe the booze and frails too) is what got him on top but when you play with the big boys, the big boy fellow con artists there is only so much room at the top. And thus the rolling of that damn rock uphill again.

Let me tell you about old Johnny just so you know, know if you go on the con, what you are up against. Yah, Johnny could fight, fight like a whirling dervish, could fight, did I tell you, as a south paw, a leftie, so that maybe should have been a tip off the guy was screwy and a prime guy for a frame. Well Johnny bopped out the beat down, beat around, beat six ways to Sunday champ and took the throne, for a minute. Like I said Johnny liked his booze, liked his women, and so he decided to celebrate his big win with a honey, some scotch, and his manager among others.

Problem was that one of the invitees turned out to be a newspaper guy and Johnny unaware, although never very discreet anyway, blabbed about his conned public image as Sunday choir boy. The newspaper guy sensing a Pulitzer or something wouldn’t play ball to keep things hushed though. Johnny tried some drunken rough stuff usually good enough to quiet the fourth estate types and got knocked out for his troubles, and our press angel scribe wound up, via a hefty bottle hit from the manager, dead, very dead, on the floor. The left-over honey and the manager dragged Johnny out of that scene and then later panicked fleeing in Johnny’s car after taking Johnny’s dough and personal effects. That panic led to a police chase in which the pair wound up dead, very dead. The problem though was the coppers thought the guy in the flamed- out car was Johnny, Johnny DOA. Murder solved, case solved. End of story.

Well not quite, see as we already know, old champ chump Johnny was hazily very much alive but also very much front and center for the big step off, the big Ossining step off, for the scribe’s death. On the advice of counsel, very expensive advice of counsel as it turned out, he was told to scram, get lost, vamoose, make himself scare, and, jesus, whatever he did, keep away from the boxing racket and especially don’t use that screwy south paw (leftie, okay) stance of his. So our chump scrammed, scrammed good all the way to Arizona and some desert rendezvous with destiny.

Now Johnny was from hunger and never having been anything but a pug-ugly was not trained for the heavy lifting or nine to five life. One day walking, endless walking he came to a farm, not just any farm but a farm filled with wayward boys (who just so happen to be The Dead End Gang transpose en masse and in total to Arizona from the East End if you can believe this) trying, well, maybe half trying, to avoid the big house back in New Jack City. To make a long story short here Johnny, after some badgering and goofing around, took these lads under his wings and that change of heart changed up the story line. See this farm was run by some good-hearted tough old bird of a granny (and don’t, don’t under any circumstances mess with her, or any tough old bird granny because I will bet six-two and-even you could up short) who was however facing hard times it being the 1930s and all so she needed a new revenue stream to keep the farm and her beat angel granny mercy work with JDs alive. So to get a gas station, which would provide that revenue stream, Johnny agreed, agreed with all his hands, to fight some travelling boxer at the country fair who would give cash money, moola, kale, dough, to anybody who could stay in the ring with him for enough rounds. Yah, I know, we know, Johnny is supposed to lay off the boxing bit but, well you know.

You know too, or maybe you don’t, that a certain New York City detective, a guy who is a little off-center himself (played by Claude Rains) never believed Johnny was dead and so when publicity (a big photo of flash Johnny in the ring) about the fight hit New Jack City he decided to help revive his career, head west, and make a serious collar. Well Johnny finally fought the big lug, changing his stance to not give himself away too much to the detective sitting dead-ass ringside. Yah, like I said Johnny attracted stuff, attracted bad stuff every time he thought too much, hell, thought. Bad career move. The detective was not fooled and so he put the collar on Johnny and it looked like old Johnny would take the big gaff after all. Then in an act of unmitigated hubris the New York dick let Johnny off, let him flee in the night. Go figure. Nice touch though. End of story.

Hey, wait a minute, weren’t there any dames in this thing, any live dames beside beat angel granny to help lady’s man Johnny while away the desert time. Of course there was, sorry I didn’t mention it before. See this farm thing, this get the troubled youth out of the nasty cities and into that dry orange western sun, was really being run by this blonde twist (yes blonde, not Lana Turner steamy 1946 ThePostman Always Rings Twice and nothing but trouble from the minute she came through the diner door blond, but blond enough while John Garfield worked his way up the star ladder) who was guiding those troubled youth (including her brother) to be regular productive citizens. Johnny, skirt-crazy, falls for her, falls for her big (what else would put dopey boxing thoughts in his head to make some dough when he was strictly on the lam) and so that twist factor went a long way to explaining he actions( and the actions of the detective). Oh yah, and why he had those old John Garfield blues. Like I said a palooka.