MOVIE OF THE DAY: "MOONRISE" (1948)

Three weeks after Danny Hawkins is born, his father is hung for murder. And as Danny grows up, the kids in town don't let him forget it, either, with spoiled rich punk Jerry Sykes being the worst of the bunch. Decades of psychological, verbal and physical abuse eventually bring Danny to the breaking killing point, when he repeatedly smashes a large rock into Jerry's rotten skull. 

Well, he had it coming, especially since Jerry was going to kill him first. It's cold comfort for Danny, who wonders if he was cursed from birth, carrying the bad blood that led his father to the gallows, even as Jerry's ex-fiancée Gilly falls in love with him. 

Just keep repeating He had it coming.

While the townfolks are aware that Danny was the victim of Jerry's abuse, nobody suspects him. Even Sheriff Otis believes that Jerry's friend Ken killed him, considering there was a $2,000 debt between the two men. Only Danny's friend Mose, a philosophical older black man who lives on the outskirts of town in a cabin, figures out Danny is guilty, but refuses to turn him in. Danny, he believes, should do it himself in his own way, and his own time. 

Moonrise is often labeled as a film noir, usually by people who think all a movie takes to fit in that genre is crime and shadows. And while Moonrise has all these and more, it's more of a film melancolique, a somber study of what happens to a man after a lifetime of torment. (Just a warning to anybody who knows me.)

Ahh, carefree childhood memories...

Thanks to Frank Borzage's trademark sensitive direction, Moonrise is often artsy (in a good way) for a straightforward noir.  Being an independent production (released by Republic Pictures), the bizarre camera angles capturing Danny's terrible childhood memories are nothing you'd have found in a studio picture of the time. In fact, the camera itself becomes almost a key character as well throughout Moonrise, whether capturing Danny's paranoia, or his quiet, thoughtful discussions with Mose. 

Harry Morgan appears stunned that he doesn't
have to memorize one word of dialogue.

As Danny, Dane Clark is something of a revelation, at least for me, since I
associate his name strictly with the spoken words "And guest star" on TV shows in the 1970s. Clark is thoroughly convincing as a man capable of smashing Jerry's skull before coming to the aid of Billy, a slow-witted deaf-mute, who's mercilessly mocked by the now-grown-up kids who did the same to him years earlier. Yet only a day or two later, in an attempt to recover a vital piece of evidence linking him to the murder, Danny comes close to strangling Billy as well. (Yes, that's Harry Morgan as Billy, minus the bluster of his role of Col. Potter on M*A*S*H three decades later.)

Danny and Gilly share a romantic moment
in front of a spotlight in the middle of a swamp.

If there's a hole in Moonrise, it concerns Danny's relationship with Gilly, empathetically played by Gail Russell. Maybe a little too empathetically. A moment after reminding Danny she's engaged to Jerry (whom she doesn't realize has just been killed), she drives off with him and a couple of friends. Danny drives like a maniac down a dark road, hallucinating Jerry's image the whole way, before careening into through a guardrail and nearly killing them all. And what's the first thing she does when she opens her eyes? Kiss Danny! Geez, I did a lot less worse to girls in my day, and never got anything more than the stinkeye.

The sheriff tries not to look conspicuous as
he takes a spin behind Danny.

It's never, never made clear what Gilly sees in Danny. His manner bounces from manic to frightened to paranoid, with only brief moments of tenderness before going back to crazyville again.  She even sticks with him when, in a moment of derangement, he jumps off a Ferris wheel. What the heck does she see in this guy? 

Another problem modern audiences might have with Moonrise is the character of Mose, who today would be tagged with the unflattering "Magical Negro" label. His job is to help white people, whether it's leading them on raccoon hunts or, in Danny's case, to the path to salvation (i.e., confessing to the sheriff). As played by Rex Ingram, Mose has more smarts than anyone in town, offers good advice, and, of course, knows his place. (I'll avoid using the overused phrase "quiet dignity", so beloved by white writers.)

"I've got more brains than you, but I'm living in
this rundown shack. What's wrong with this
picture?"

Unfortunately, Mose also has what would today be considered an extraordinarily insensitive line of dialogue. Reminiscing about a hobo who was  arrested by the sheriff, Mose explains the guy was sentenced to 15 years "for making love to the constable's daughter, but she didn't want it." Mose admits the guy was guilty, but it was because "he was lonesome." 

Today's viewers would rightfully believe lonesome doesn't excuse rape. But having watched a lot of old movies, I know that the phrase "making love" used to mean simply sweet-talking a girl. The man in question was likely black, and the constable's daughter was definitely white. That would unjustly land him 15 years in stir. 

As with other movies that don't necessarily jibe with today's values, you either ride with Moonrise or you don't. I rode, primarily due to Frank Borzage's direction, making it both beautiful and often eerie throughout. Several  wonderful character actors lend a hand, too. In addition to the others previously mentioned, there's Allyn Joslyn as the surprisingly thoughtful sheriff, and, in the brief role as the despicable Jerry Sykes, 25 year-old Lloyd Bridges. (You'll never look at Sea Hunt the same way.)

Ethel doesn't appreciate being mistaken for
Dr. Gillespie.

Rounding out these all-stars are the ubiquitous Charles Lane as a bank examiner, and, as Danny's understanding grandmother, Ethel Barrymore, kind of looking like her brother Lionel in drag.

And only a freak like me would recognize Phil Brown as Elmer the hepcat soda jerk. Several years earlier, Brown played the psychokiller in the surprisingly gruesome Calling Dr. Gillespie, and, decades later, Luke Skywalker's uncle in Star Wars. Every actor should have a career with that kind of CV. Especially when it includes a movie as interesting as Moonrise.

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