Brute Force Reviews

Iron-jawed Burt Lancaster plays a tortured prisoner aching to get out to reunite with his ailing wife (Ann Blyth). We understand and sympathize with him, but not just with him but all the men in his cell block. When they riot against the despotic guard (Hume Cronyn), we understand their motivating factors as we have spent plenty of time with them.

 

A touch manipulative, sure, especially as so many of their infractions seem so small in the grand scheme, and that is the main problem with Brute Force. What seemed shocking, even daring, in 1947 now appears outdated. If, as Jules Dassin argues, prisons reflect the wider society, and that’s a valid argument to make, then American society has a rot at its core. Nobody ever escapes, as one character argues, and the entire thing is wrapped up in a salaciously violent, and noir-esque bleakness, bow.

 

It is a weird, unshapely film that combines bits of jailbreak, social expose, film noir, and political allegory. In trying to shove all these various bits and pieces together, Brute Force winds up being entirely pleasing. Certain sections engaged me far more than others. Yes, the violent denouement had me on the edge of my seat and completely engaged, while parts involving Cronyn’s Napoleonic guard seemed so over-the-top (despite his committed performance) that I found myself taken out of the narrative. Through it all is Lancaster giving a soulful and deeply grounded performance that will make you rethink his iconography as a preeminent square-jawed tough guy of cinema.    

Burt Lancaster had one of his first starring roles in this hard-hitting prison drama. Capt. Munsey (Hume Cronyn) is a cruel, corrupt prison guard who has his own less-than-ethical ways of dealing with inmates, enough so that Joe Collins (Lancaster) -- the toughest inmate in the cell block -- has decided to break out. Collins tries to persuade Gallagher (Charles Bickford), the unofficial leader of the inmates and editor of the prison newspaper, to join him, but Gallagher thinks Collins' plan won't work. However, Collins does have the support of his cellmates, most of whom, like himself, wandered into a life of crime thanks to love and good intentions. Tom Lister (Whit Bissell) was an accountant who altered the books so he could buy his wife a mink coat. Soldier (Howard Duff) fell in love with an Italian girl during World War II and took the rap for her when she murdered her father. Collins pulled a bank job to raise money to pay for an operation that could possibly get his girl out of a wheelchair. And Spencer (John Hoyt) made the mistake of getting involved with a female con artist. After Munsey drives Tom to suicide and prevents Gallagher from obtaining parole, Gallagher joins up with Collins and his men in the escape attempt. Director Jules Dassin would next direct the influential noir drama The Naked City; six years later, he would move to Europe after political blacklisting prevented him from continuing to work in the United States

Honestly, I wonder how I actually ended up watching this flick. I guess I was mostly interested because Burt Lancaster was involved. Indeed, it is a rather old movie (almot 70 years old as a matter of fact) that Burt Lancaster made just at the beginning of his career. If I’m not mistaken, it was in fact his 2nd movie and it is in fact rather rare that an actor, especially back in those days, would start right away with a lead part. On the other hand, if you are awesome like Burt Lancaster, why shouldn’t you? Anyway, coming back to our main feature, I thought it was a decent film noir (Jules Dassin made several of them during the postwar period) bu even though it was certainly entertaining, I can’t say I was really blown away by the whole thing. Indeed, it must have seemed pretty badass when it was released at the end of the 40’s but, in the last 70 years, they have made many jail dramas who has left a bigger impression on me. To conclude, I think it was not bad at all and I still think it is worth a look, especially if you're interested in the old classics.