For reasons I can’t quite explain, I’ve yet to purchase a copy of Criterion’s 2-disc set of The Killers, which contains both the 1946 original and 1964 remake of the film based on the 1927 short story by Ernest Hemingway. So I decided to kick the tires and give it a test-drive, courtesy of the fine folks at Netflix this week. Of the two, I gravitate more toward the 1946 version, which stars Burt Lancaster as Ole Anderson (“The Swede”) an ex-boxer-turned-gas-station-attendant who is murdered by two hitmen (Charles McGraw, William Conrad)—the reason why is unraveled by an insurance investigator played by Edmond O’Brien (a.k.a. “The Sweatiest Man in Noir”).

One of the reasons why I hold the 1946 film in high esteem is the outstanding direction by noir fave Robert Siodmak, whose resume includes classics like Phantom Lady (1944) and Criss Cross (1949). The screenplay is also tops, written by Anthony Veiller (and, uncredited, John Huston and Richard Brooks) and containing some wonderfully sharp, hard-boiled dialogue (“How much time has he got?” “He’s behind schedule now.”). My favorite exchange is between McGraw and Conrad (two memorably menacing villains) as they bully a lunch counterman (Harry Hayden) upon their arrival in town to carry out their mission of killing Lancaster:

AL: This is a hot town…what do you call it?

HENRY: Brentwood…

AL (to Max): Ever hear of Brentwood? (Max shakes his head “no.”) What do you do here nights?

MAX: They eat the dinner…they all come here and eat the big dinner…

I love how Conrad delivers that last line (of course, my admiration for “The Man of a Thousand Voice” knows no bounds, as Thrilling Days of Yesteryear readers are well aware), and I’ve even tried to drop it in during casual conversation at mealtimes—naturally, my movie-savvy family reacts in the way that you’d pretty much expect…yes, with blank stares and “Where the hell did that come from?” As for Charles McGraw, well—he’s always been a favorite of mine (one critic memorably described his voice as sounding like “someone being strangled”) and a noir stand-by in films like Armored Car Robbery (1950) and The Narrow Margin (1952). This movie marked both Lancaster’s debut and that of Ava Gardner (who plays femme fatale Kitty Collins)—who I’m not usually a fan of but I must say is aces in this film, particularly when she pulls out all the stops at the end by pleading with the dying Albert Dekker to provide her with an alibi. The supporting cast also includes Sam Levene, Vince Barnett, Virginia Christine, Jeff Corey, Jack Lambert and Donald McBride, with music by Miklos Rozsa and cinematography by Woody Bredell. This was one of many films produced by the great Mark Hellinger, who would also oversee Brute Force (1947, again with Lancaster, Corey, Levene, Barnett and McGraw) and The Naked City (1948).

Don Siegel (who was originally tapped to direct the 1946 original until he was pushed aside in favor of Siodmak) directed the 1964 remake, a movie that was also supposed to be the first made-for-television feature until Universal got squeamish at the violence and released it to theaters instead. There are a few deviations: in this one, the main character—Johnny North (John Cassavetes) is a race-car driver, and the O’Brien character is eliminated as the two hit men (Lee Marvin, Clu Gulager) end up investigating themselves the reason as to why North stoically accepted his inevitable death.

This is the second time I’ve watched the 1964 version, and I have to say it gets better on an encore viewing, though the movie does sort of slow down during the flashbacks. But when Marvin (in one of his very best portrayals) and Gulager are on screen, the film really begins to pop. (My favorite sequence has them searching for Cassavetes in a school for the blind; the fact that they're wearing sunglasses helps them to blend in with the students, which I find wryly amusing.) Its ending is also superior to that of the 1946 version, and it has a great supporting cast in Angie Dickinson, Claude Akins, Norman Fell, Virginia Christine (who was in the original), Seymour Cassel and OTR stalwarts Tyler McVey (as a steward) and Richard Lane (as a demolition derby announcer).

The 1964 Killers has also achieved notoriety for providing future U.S. President Ronald Reagan with his last film role as the villain Jack Browning, a nasty and brutish kingpin who is none-too-hesitant about slapping girlfriend Dickinson around. Reagan did the movie as a favor to his friend Lew Wasserman, and never made any bones about hating it—but I have to be honest, I think it may very well be his best performance; this coming from an individual who thought “the Great Communicator” (or as we call him around the house, "the Great Prevaricator") was a bland, mediocre presence on screen at best. (Danny Peary, in a Cult Movies essay on Reagan’s 1951 comedy Bedtime For Bonzo, gives him far more credit than me.) I’m also partial to the Ronster in an underrated 1951 thriller called Storm Warning, in which he plays a liberal lawyer (!) who defends Ginger Rogers when she witnesses a murder carried out by a Klu Klux Klan-like group (Ginger’s sister is played by Doris Day, who is also surprisingly good).

There are some wonderful extras on these two Criterion discs: a short version of The Killers directed in 1956 by Russian fave Andrei Tarkovsky (Andrei Rublyov, Solyaris); the June 5, 1949 Screen Director’s Playhouse radio broadcast starring Lancaster (Conrad’s in this one, too); interviews with mystery author Stuart Kaminsky and actor Clu Gulager; and a collection of trailers for some of Siodmak’s other films—most notably the not-yet-available-on-DVD Technicolor kitschfest Cobra Woman (1944) and the underrated Cry of the City (1948) with Victor Mature and Richard Conte. This is definitely a DVD that I will have to purchase in the future—of course, if my sister Kat is reading this…I do have a birthday coming up…
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