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The problem isn’t that the film isn’t any good, on the contrary, it’s quite entertaining, and it’s that the script never sells the central problem as some huge life-altering event. Somehow the trials and tribulations of an actor being strong-armed into signing a seven-year contract and wanting to expand into more artistic and challenging material just seems too slight for this kind of grandeur. In small doses and in fleeting supporting roles The Big Knife can sell it, but those are the exceptions to the rule.
Jack Palance’s artistic integrity as an actor isn’t a very burning issue, and The Big Knife is far better when detailing how his sordid past behavior is constantly coming back to haunt him, make a mess of his family life and constantly silenced by the studio for the sake of his image. This doesn’t come into grand effect until roughly halfway through act two of the film which wears its stage origins loudly. Once the backstabbing and manipulations of seedy past deeds comes into the film it becomes more alive and engrossing. But the problem is that this is only a secondary story and the main thrust concerns his artistic identity and his marital strife.
The Big Knife remains watchable thanks to a top-notch cast lead by Jack Palance and Ida Lupino. Each of them gives a fierce, tough performance that anchors the film in some semblance of reality even as it spins off into melodrama and artificial theatrics. Rod Steiger’s studio executive is less a character than an overacted plot device who strikes a bum note each time he comes onscreen. Jean Hagan is far better in an extended scene as a promiscuous wife of Palance’s best friend who will keep his secrets safe if he gives into her wishes. Shelley Winters is the real standout and manages through sheer force of will to create the best scene in whole film. During a late night conversation in which Palance tries to charm and seduce her into keeping her big mouth shut about any gossip she knows about him, Winters delivers a monologue decrying her treatment as a piece of meat, a glorified call-girl who must give out sexual favors in exchange for the promises of an eventual screen-test or bit part, which never come. Winters appears to go deep into her personal emotions and reveals an emotional wound that lingers on the viewer.
Aldrich often bit the hand that fed him in his choice of stories, and he tailored them in documentary-style lighting. The effect is that the whole film looks and feels harsher for it. There’s no “pretty” studio gloss, no glamorous filters to make anyone look beyond human in their beauty. It’s no surprise that this scathing portrait of Hollywood’s top brass left many a member of the community un-amused and led to Aldrich’s eventual blacklisting. It’s such a pity that the script is a bit of a wooden, occasionally overwritten mess – The Big Knife could have been a slam-dunk masterpiece.
