Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye (1950)

James Cagney plays Ralph Cotter, a convict with a heart of mold. During an escape from a prison farm, his co-escapee (Neville Brand) falls behind, so Cotter shoots him in the head. Cotter than forces his way into the apartment — and arms — of the guy’s sister, Holiday (Barbara Payton). He’s a real dime-store Richard III. 



While he’s talking his way into Holiday’s life, a moment of violence erupts that is nothing like any scene I can remember. Holiday, furious, throws a knife at Cotter, which just knicks his ear. He storms into the bathroom, wets a towel, wrings it out, then dabs it at the cut. Suddenly, he whirls toward her, draws back his arm, and begins savagely thrashing her with the wet towel. Back to the wall, she screams for him to stop, then throws herself into his arms and weeps that with her brother dead, she has no one. He suggests that she has him, and the moment ends with a kiss. 



What keeps us reeling is the way the film portrays the standard noir characters of the evil femme fatale and the hapless sucker who knows she’s using him, but still can’t break away. In Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye, Cagney’s character is the dangerous dame, and Payton’s is the entangled schmuck.

Payton is gorgeous, but her career didn’t last very long. Her own worst enemy, she died at age 39, abetted by drugs and drink. Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye (a great noir title, by the way) was directed by Gordon Douglas and the screenplay was by Harry Brown, from a novel by Horace McCoy. —Doug Bentin

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Eyes Without a Face (1960)

Georges Franju’s moody horror classic Eyes Without a Face — or Les yeux sans visage, if you want to be pretentious about it — follows the trials and travails of noted surgeon Dr. Génessier (Pierre Brasseur) as he struggles to find a face for his daughter, Christiane (Edith Scob), who lost hers in a gruesome car crash.

To that end, Dr. G sends out his loyal secretary, Louise (Alida Valli), to befriend lovely young women and bring them back to his spooky estate, where they’ll knocked out and tied to the surgical table, drugged and become not-so-lovely. In a scene once censored, we see in gory detail just how unkind his cuts are.

The French film is spooky, thanks mostly to Christiane’s mask, a blank stare that no doubt influenced Michael Myers’ emotionless cover. Franju aims for a marathon, not a sprint, with deliberate pacing that gets you involved with the characters. In other words, this is an intelligent film that just happens to appeal to base senses, with evocative photography and a memorable score, which sounds like the theme from Curb Your Enthusiasm on Percocet.

It’s to the film’s credit that you’ll not think of the Billy Idol song of the same name throughout. —Rod Lott

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