Scott Reviews Jules Dassin’s Thieves’ Highway [Arrow Films Blu-ray Review]

Jules Dassin didn’t do much in the way of subversion. At least not cinematically. He didn’t have many overarching themes to his work, he didn’t twist his genre films into something they weren’t. What he did was utilize every one of the handful of tools he was given, and pushed his films to their absolute breaking point. His subversion was a sort of perversion, an excess of imagination and a willingness to show the world as he saw it. If that meant creating a filmography that looked suspicious to the House Committee of Un-American Activities, well, that was just the natural result of having an eye and an ear for how the common man lived.

It can’t have helped that his last film before the blacklist order came down was Thieves’ Highway, an all-out indictment of capitalism cloaked in the noir-drenched mode of a typical Fox gritty, ripped-from-the-headlines drama. Though this was more or less Warner Brothers’ domain in the 1930s, with the success of The Grapes of Wrath Fox practically had a whole department for this sort of thing through the early 1950s. We’ve covered two of them here on the site – Boomerang and Pickup on South Street. Other great films from the time and mode include Nightmare Alley, Daisy Kenyon, Where the Sidewalk Ends, Fourteen Hours, and Journey Into Light. The same year that Pickup on South Street came out, Marilyn Monroe exploded at the studio with Niagara, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and How to Marry a Millionaire, and the studio quickly became more glamorous and colorful to match.

But in 1949, they were in the thick of this run, exploring and exploiting the way men scrambled for their place in a world still emerging from Depression and War. Thieves’ Highway, based on a novel by A.I. Bezzerides (and adapted by the author himself), is a perfect representation of this theme. Nick Garcos (Richard Conte) has just returned from years at sea to the loving arms of his family and fiancee, only to find his father lost his legs to a crooked produce seller who basically stole his haul and sent him out on the road for dead. Rather than take the money he’s saved and invest it as planned, Nick embarks on a revenge run, hauling a new batch of apples guaranteed to make a killing at the corrupt market. What exactly he intends to do when he gets there is unclear; what he’s in for is impossible to anticipate.

The vagueness of Nick’s plan is one of the film’s most intriguing aspects. We’ve barely met him by the time he’s gone all in on a dangerous, costly trip, rather than the safe bet of going into business with family, which he outlines in the film’s opening scene. This paints Nick as inherently corrupted. He’s destined to go for the long shot, even though it could cost him all his money, his happiness, even his life. It’s easy enough to look at Mike Figlia (Lee J. Cobb), the gangster produce merchant, as the face of all that’s wrong with capitalistic enterprise. He doesn’t mind lying, cheating, injuring, or potentially killing anyone if it means a buck. But Nick is the far more damning portrait. He’s supposed to represent us, after all. But he gets way in over his head way too quickly, unable to see a good thing when he has it. He’s barely said “hello” to his fiancee (Barbara Lawrence, at that!) after years away before he’s rushing out the door again. Seeking justice for his father seems like a side concern to the big score. His father’s well-being definitely is.

Bezzerides packs the story with dialogue picked right up off the street. Every character has a snappy, though often not snobby, response. These people don’t have all the answers. They’re barely keeping pace with their own actions. But they can sure put up a fight. Dassin’s direction places that ferocity at the fore. His actors are put in ever-tightening proximity with one another, squeezing their desperation (or, with the introduction of Valentina Cortese, desire) until they snap. His montages of Nick’s long truck drive expertly convey the exhaustion of the journey – the speedometer, the road, the landscape, and various survival techniques to stay awake running together – without putting the viewer to sleep. The thrill is too electric.

I feel my issues with these Blu-ray transfers Fox provides are becoming a little repetitive, but, well, they keep making the same mistake. Thieves’ Highway is not among the worst entries – like Pickup, it benefits from having a lot of shadowy scenes, where the generally-good contrast can cover up the lack of detail and depth, the general softness of the transfer and its overly-smooth appearance. Its few daytime scenes are much rougher, particularly the big homecoming scene at the start. A brief trip to the apple orchard is surprisingly robust, with individual leaves and apples clearly standing out from one another. No surprise, though, that a big showdown in a train yard at the end, with hardly any light at all, ends up looking the best.

Arrow’s new (Region B) disc repeats none of Criterion‘s supplements, so don’t go throwing out that standard-definition release yet. However, the features it adds makes a considerable case for an upgrade, should you be in the position to do so. Frank Krutnik does the heavy lifting, providing selected scene commentaries that are really more like video essays (often pausing the film or inserting another scene in the corner of the frame) on three sections, which go a long way in illustrating how Dassin and Bezzerides build their story, never fully foreshadowing anything, but more establishing the rules of the road. He also contributes a general video essay on the film’s production, and the political background and fates of its creative team. The absolute best supplement, teased in Criterion’s release with a trailer (sections were later presented on their Kiss Me Deadly Blu-ray), is a 55-minute documentary on Bezzerides. Made only a couple of years before his death in 2007 at age 98, it shows the author remained a passionate, vigorous character all his own, continuing to write, by his own account, every day. It’s an absolute joy just to hear him speak so clearly and intensely about his life and work, and is practically worth the price of the disc all on its own.

But that’s leaving aside the fact that you get a pretty spectacular picture to go with it. Thieves’ Highway does not seem to be considered a major work for Dassin or Bezzerides, nor necessarily should it be, but they nevertheless bring considerable intelligence and insight to an arena of society not often depicted on film. I mean, maybe there are swarms of noir-drenched tales of crime in the apple business with which I just haven’t been made familiar; it’s a big world out there. But if Thieves’ Highway stands alone, it stands tall.