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Gun Crazy and the Bank Job Shot From the Back Seat12 sep 2026 The bank robbery in Gun Crazy (1950) runs about three and a half minutes, and there is no cut in it. The camera sits in the back of a stretched Cadillac, behind Bart and Laurie, while they drive into town, fret about whether they will find somewhere to park, pull up outside the bank, deal with a policeman and get away. Nobody on the street in Montrose, California, had been told a film was being shot; only the two leads and the people inside the bank were in on it. Joseph H. Lewis (1907-2000) staged a heist the way a passenger would live through one if nobody had explained the plan, and I cannot think of a robbery in an American picture of the period that feels less like a set piece. It was a King Brothers picture, which is to say a cheap one. Frank and Maurice King made it for release through United Artists on a reported budget of $400,000. MacKinlay Kantor (1904-1977) adapted a 1940 Saturday Evening Post story of his, and Dalton Trumbo (1905-1976), blacklisted at the time, reworked it into a doomed love affair, with Millard Kaufman's name standing in on the credits. It opened in January 1950 as Deadly Is the Female and was retitled Gun Crazy that March. The new title is better and still not quite right. The film is about two people who meet at a carnival shooting contest and discover that a gun is the most honest thing either of them owns.
What the rig buys is not virtuosity. Compare it with the opening of Touch of Evil eight years later, where the crane climbs and glides over the border town and makes certain you know you are watching a long take. Lewis's camera never announces anything. It is parked in the back of a car and it behaves like somebody sitting there: it looks at the backs of two heads and out through the windscreen, and it can slide along its boards, but it cannot get out. The only light is whatever the sky over Montrose was doing that day. Peggy Cummins (1925-2017) and John Dall (1920-1971) improvised the dialogue, which is why the scene sounds like two nervous people making conversation rather than two actors getting through pages, and why the worry about parking plays as a real worry. The rest of the film earns the take. Cummins plays Annie Laurie Starr as the one who wants it, the money and the guns and the speed, and Laurie never once apologises for wanting it. Dall's Bart has loved guns since boyhood and cannot bring himself to shoot anything alive. That imbalance is the whole engine. Victor Young wrote the score and Harry Gerstad cut the picture, though for three and a half minutes in the middle of it there was nothing for an editor to do. The fog in the marsh at the finish is the one place the film reaches for the heavy atmosphere of the period's crime pictures, and it is a greyer, wetter thing than the black John Alton was pouring into T-Men. The Library of Congress added Gun Crazy to the National Film Registry in 1998, and the robbery is the reason most people have heard of it. I think the shot matters for more than the stunt. For three and a half minutes the audience is not watching two outlaws from a safe distance. It is sitting behind them in the car, and nobody asked whether it wanted to come along. [ « prev: People on Sunday · latest post ] » leave a comment in the guestbook
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