The Fallen Sparrow (1943)
Directed by Richard Wallace

Film Review

The threat of Nazism to the Free World is driven home with more fervour than subtlety in this bleakly atmospheric film noir - not surprisingly as wartime propaganda was part of Hollywood's remit at the time.  It is however an unusual departure for Richard Wallace, a director best known for crowdpleasing comedies such as his Shirley Temple films.  The Fallen Sparrow is a hard-boiled murder mystery adapted from a novel of the same title by Dorothy B. Hughes, the author whose work provided a more memorable film noir classic, In a Lonely Place (1950).  Even though the plot is so vague and convoluted that it makes your head spin trying to keep up with it, the film has no difficulty holding the viewer's attention, thanks mainly to the enjoyably intense performances from its charismatic leads, John Garfield and Maureen O'Hara.

Already used to playing tough, urban types, John Garfield is a perfect casting choice for the role of the war veteran who is still haunted by his period of internment in a Fascist prisoner of war camp. (Inevitably, the Fascists receive a fair amount of bashing here - only Franco and his mob would resort to Chinese torture methods...)  In one of his more complex and interesting character portrayals, Garfield is harrowingly convincing as a man teetering on the brink as his obsession to avenge the death of a friend drives him ever deeper into a web of murderous intrigue.  It was on the strength of his work here that Garfield was able to raise his profile in Hollywood considerably, gravitating towards more substantial tough guy roles in such films as Jean Negulesco's Humoresque (1946), Tay Garnett's The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946) and Abraham Polonsky's Force of Evil (1948). 

The film also marked something of a turning point for Maureen O'Hara, a surprising but inspired choice for the role of the ambiguous but irresistible femme fatale.  It was a role that gave O'Hara the chance to demonstrate her versatility, allowing her to take on a richer variety of roles after the war.  Patricia Morison is an equally good choice for the part of the 'other woman', the role that she was best known for in the 1940s until she became a major star on Broadway with such shows as Kiss Me, Kate and The King and I.  The one disappointment is the casting of Walter Slezak as the villain of the piece - his lack of menace and slightly comical persona diminish the threat he poses in the film's climactic scene.  With his suspect accent and hammy acting, he is just another woefully caricatured Nazi, the kind you would expect to find in a Laurel and Hardy film.

Roy Webb's score and Nicholas Musuraca's moody cinematography add considerably to the film's relentless tension, effectively masking the flaws in the muddled narrative and chillingly evoking the mental disarray of the main protagonist as he stumbles through his murder investigation.  From the outset, we know that McKittrick is a man suffering from deep-seated traumas and consequently prey to his fevered imagination.  It is even possible that he may himself be implicated in the murder without realising it...   Like a suffocating Scottish mist, the traditional film noir motifs help to sustain this sense of murk and ambiguity magnificently, making The Fallen Sparrow one of R.K.O.'s more disturbing forays into film noir.

Film Synopsis

John McKittrick, known to his friends as Kit, is a veteran of the Spanish Civil War who managed to escape from a prisoner of war camp where he was subjected to brutal torture.  Not long after his return to America he learns that Louie Lepetino, the man who helped him to escape, has died in suspicious circumstances.  Not convinced with the official police verdict, that Lepetino committed suicide by falling from a top storey window, McKittrick begins his own investigation, determined to bring his own notion of justice to his friend's killer.  It transpires that shortly before he died, Lepetino attended a party hosted by Barby Taviton, McKittrick's former girlfriend.  Possible suspects include Toni Donne, an attractive woman McKittrick has recently met on a train, wheelchair-bound Norwegian historian Dr Skaas and his nephew Otto.  As he gropes his way towards the truth, McKittrick imagines he hears the dragging sound of a man with a limp, the same sound he heard when he was incarcerated in Spain...