Crime in the Streets

John Cassavetes, Mark Rydell, and Sal Mineo

Don Siegel's Crime in the Streets is a dated juvenile delinquent melodrama from 1956. The film was originally an hour long television drama, written by Reginald Rose and directed by Sydney Lumet, that aired on The Elgin Hour the year before. Two of the members of the TV cast were retained for the film production, Mark Rydell as the most psychotic member of the juvenile gang and John Cassavetes, making his film debut, as the gang's troubled leader. What plot there is hinges on the possible murder of a retiree who has finked on the gang. The picture was produced by Allied Artists, the successor to bargain basement Monogram Pictures, and it shows. Action is pretty much limited to the single set that represents a slum block in Queens. 

The central problem with the film is the hackneyed script by Rose, most famous for penning 12 Angry Men. Changing the script from a 52 minute TV model into a ninety minute film, Rose pads the project with redundant monologues from Cassavetes's character's mother (Virginia Gregg), a girl sweet on him (Denise Alexander), a local merchant (Will Kuluva), and the local social worker (James Whitmore), all decrying the nihilistic attitude and feckless behavior of modern youth. Rose even provides a half-baked motivation for the anti-social demeanor of Cassavetes' Frankie Dane, what Manny Farber called "the gimp". Beatings from Dane's father have caused him to react defensively to human contact and he shies away from even the most benign touch. In the film's most ridiculous moment, a slap from a neighbor cause a psychotic break for Dane. The camera ratches out of focus to indicate Dane's temporary detachment from reality.          

All in all, Siegel does what can with the shopworn material. However, only the opening rumble between gangs displays his gifts for action cinema. Someone got the bright idea to put the opening credits over this sequence, but as with Touch of Evil, even this distraction can't lessen its kinetic impact as Franz Waxman big band jazz score blares away. Waxman must have felt liberated to do this kind of score after the acceptance of Elmer Bernstein's jazz score for The Man with the Golden Arm, but it sounds more like a facsimile of jazz rather than the real thing. Nothing else in this film matches this sequence, though I did enjoy Siegel's judicious use of close-ups, even the one of a dog eating from a garbage can. Siegel sensitively handles his cast, reining in those who tend to overact (Cassavetes, Rydell) and giving space to the more restrained performers (Whitmore, Mineo). Dane's gang members are given little characterization. Only Rydell and Mineo are even given a semblance of a character, but they represent little more than the dark and little sides of Dane's character, each trying to push Dane towards enlightenment or depravity. Rydell, who eventually became a successful film director, clashed with Siegel over his performance and, luckily, Siegel won, restraining Rydell's more cartoonish impulses. Mineo gives the best performance of the film, in a role very reminiscent of his breakthrough performance in Rebel Without A Cause. He plays "Baby", the youngest and most sensitive member of the gang and manages to suggest a youngster struggling with his moral conscience without telegraphing the effect.

Cassavetes and Denise Alexander

Cassavetes character is quite ridiculous, his tough is no more realistic than Travolta's in Grease, but he glowers effectively in a role that could have been risible. Denise Alexander would end up snagging a linchpin role of over four decades as Lesley Weber in the daytime drama, General Hospital. I once was confused when Andrew Sarris described James Whitmore's career arc as that of never becoming the second Spencer Tracy, but his role as the social worker here cleared that up for me. When he is not mouthing the liberal pieties provided by Reginald Rose, he is trying to buddy up with the gang by offering to treat them to a beer. The gang members, of course, tell him to scram. Essentially he is playing a secular variation on Tracy's Father Flanagan. The role verges on parody, but Whitmore, as assuredly effective here as when pitching potting soil, emerges with dignity. Robert Preston, another good salesman, played the role on television.