In one of Anthony Mann's great films, Raw Deal has the added jolt for what could be a basic B-movie thriller by having an underlying current being romantic jealousy, envy, and the tug of war between right and wrong, as well as possession. The point of view here isn't from the hard-boiled Joe (Dennis O'Keefe, one man you don't want to mess with, unless you can 'get under his skin') who's just escaped from prison to settle old scores, but from his old lady Pat (Claire Trevor), a dame with years behind her waiting and waiting, and after being patient for so long (as she tells us in a constantly eerie, mournful voice-over, almost something one might expect from The Magnificent Ambersons) she busts him out. But while in there he met a 'friend' Ann, wholesomely played by Marsha Hunt, an admirer of his past good deeds- as a child- and is taken along on the escape trip thanks to her getaway car. At first Pat just brushes aside Ann's pleading and prodding to Joe as merely naive. But her good side pushes Pat away from Joe, and a little closer to Ann despite the danger of a guy with a lot to lose holding a gun and with a score to settle via gangster Rick (Raymond Burr, playing well as a dirty fat heel).
The music set behind her, which doesn't change all that much, sounds as if it's out of a chilling dream, where the fatalism has rocketed through the roof and there's not much she can do about it. Yet Mann and director of photography capture so many beautiful and stark moments, pivotal ones as part of the artistic peak of film-noir, especially in the scene on the boat as Joe rattles on about the good things to come. And we see Pat with a little like streaked across her guilt-ridden face at knowing Ann is in dire straits, with the clock also in light, and everything else in black, and soon after an accentuation of her eyes as narration details her hatred of just the idea of Ann now forever burrowing herself into Joe's consciousness. Things like this add to how taut Mann operates Raw Deal, like the ironic scene at Joe's friend's farm where a frantic killer comes knocking for help, all the lights off inside, but the tension very strange (almost contrived, though not quite). Even small details like the back-lighting in some scenes, as when we see Joe talking to Pat and Ann through the divider in prison with the bars streaked slightly behind him. And what would a wallop of a noir be without some low-angle shots of Burr in his office or chucking flames at a girl who scuffed his jacket?
The mood is near perfect, the character actors are all up to snuff (Hunt actually delves a little into how she's changed forever by the trip, by the firing of a gun that carries more implications than a less ambitious film would allow), and in a fairly short running time there's a substantial amount of craft to go alongside a crackerjack story where conventions are given added weight by attitude and a predilection to imagery that might not make it in some noirs (the climax with Joe and Rick, the flames of hell right around them in the office). One of the best films of 1948.
The music set behind her, which doesn't change all that much, sounds as if it's out of a chilling dream, where the fatalism has rocketed through the roof and there's not much she can do about it. Yet Mann and director of photography capture so many beautiful and stark moments, pivotal ones as part of the artistic peak of film-noir, especially in the scene on the boat as Joe rattles on about the good things to come. And we see Pat with a little like streaked across her guilt-ridden face at knowing Ann is in dire straits, with the clock also in light, and everything else in black, and soon after an accentuation of her eyes as narration details her hatred of just the idea of Ann now forever burrowing herself into Joe's consciousness. Things like this add to how taut Mann operates Raw Deal, like the ironic scene at Joe's friend's farm where a frantic killer comes knocking for help, all the lights off inside, but the tension very strange (almost contrived, though not quite). Even small details like the back-lighting in some scenes, as when we see Joe talking to Pat and Ann through the divider in prison with the bars streaked slightly behind him. And what would a wallop of a noir be without some low-angle shots of Burr in his office or chucking flames at a girl who scuffed his jacket?
The mood is near perfect, the character actors are all up to snuff (Hunt actually delves a little into how she's changed forever by the trip, by the firing of a gun that carries more implications than a less ambitious film would allow), and in a fairly short running time there's a substantial amount of craft to go alongside a crackerjack story where conventions are given added weight by attitude and a predilection to imagery that might not make it in some noirs (the climax with Joe and Rick, the flames of hell right around them in the office). One of the best films of 1948.