When a performer's career is in rapid artistic free fall, the body of work from that period often receives across the board dismissal. By 1962, Alan Ladd appears to have been a defeated man, prematurely aged, engulfed by personal issues and with a string of largely mediocre movies following his departure from Paramount.
'13 West Street', produced by 'Ladd Enterprises' for Columbia, isn't quite like finding a diamond in a cowpat, but it successfully echoes some of its star's former glories and is far better than one might have dared to imagine.
Rock'n'roll era noir frequently shifted the emphasis away from ruthless syndicates and daring robberies to the nascent youth culture and juvenile crime.....Daddy-o! In the dead of night, Ladd is severely beaten, sustaining a broken leg, requiring lengthy hospital treatment after being set upon by five boys. Not the chocolate bar!....and not a swarm of oily, ugly, bad-breathed, brittle brained, dumb guy hoodlums, returning from a zit convention, but educated, well to do, suburban pretty boys, who simply hate everything that Ladd represents: affluent, middle class respectability, prosperity and ambition. It's not rocket science!, except that.....er...well actually it is, in so far as Ladd works as a rocket engineer, currently commissioned to evaluate the cause of a failed launch.
The limping Ladd soon tires of dapper detective, Rod Steiger's softly softly approach, appointing a private investigator, before, much to Steiger's indignation, pursuing the case himself.
Despite its obvious quality, '13 West Street' proved neither a launching pad to re-boot Ladd's fortunes nor a crutch for support during his final months. Disappointed that the movie opened on the lower half of a New York double bill, sadly, he did not live long enough to see the premiere of his next and last film, 'The Carpetbaggers'.
'13 West Street', produced by 'Ladd Enterprises' for Columbia, isn't quite like finding a diamond in a cowpat, but it successfully echoes some of its star's former glories and is far better than one might have dared to imagine.
Rock'n'roll era noir frequently shifted the emphasis away from ruthless syndicates and daring robberies to the nascent youth culture and juvenile crime.....Daddy-o! In the dead of night, Ladd is severely beaten, sustaining a broken leg, requiring lengthy hospital treatment after being set upon by five boys. Not the chocolate bar!....and not a swarm of oily, ugly, bad-breathed, brittle brained, dumb guy hoodlums, returning from a zit convention, but educated, well to do, suburban pretty boys, who simply hate everything that Ladd represents: affluent, middle class respectability, prosperity and ambition. It's not rocket science!, except that.....er...well actually it is, in so far as Ladd works as a rocket engineer, currently commissioned to evaluate the cause of a failed launch.
The limping Ladd soon tires of dapper detective, Rod Steiger's softly softly approach, appointing a private investigator, before, much to Steiger's indignation, pursuing the case himself.
Despite its obvious quality, '13 West Street' proved neither a launching pad to re-boot Ladd's fortunes nor a crutch for support during his final months. Disappointed that the movie opened on the lower half of a New York double bill, sadly, he did not live long enough to see the premiere of his next and last film, 'The Carpetbaggers'.