In a rut and it's six feet deep.
Pitfall is directed by Andre De Toth and adapted to screenplay by Karl Kamb and William Bowers from the novel written by Jay Dratler. It stars Dick Powell, Lizabeth Scott, Jane Wyatt and Raymond Burr. Music is by Louis Forbes and cinematography by Harry Wild.
Married insurance adjuster John Forbes (Powell) falls for femme fatale model Mona Stevens (Scott) while her boyfriend (Byron Barr) is in jail. And with Private Investigator J.B. MacDonald (Burr) fiercely attracted to Mona the consequences for everyone could well be critical.
The reluctant fatales!
Not for the fist time I wandered into a film directed by Andre De Toth and came out feeling invigorated by the under valued director. Pitfall falls under the film noir banner but actually subverts what we know as film noir conventions. Mona Stevens is a femme fatale of sorts, but not maliciously so, the key fatale role falls to John Forbes, who is bored with his comfortable life and becomes our homme fatale. But again, this is not malicious or scheming, though since this is noirville it has knock on effects of dire consequence.
What makes a dream? - The mind is a camera.
As our two central adulterers go about their confused passion filled way, the characters it affects become prominent in the story's ultimate resolutions. MacDonald is a brute (Burr in his element), and an unrealistically stupid lech into the bargain but his constant menace throws us a classic noir characterisation. Out there in prison is Mona's boyfriend, who is being made aware of his loved one's indiscretion and counting down the hours till his release. While back at the Forbes home is John's adoring wife (Wyatt enjoying a feisty role) and son (Jimmy Hunt), the innocents who we wonder will suffer from the actions of others?
Dialogue is often sharp, witty and rapid-fire, you instantly know that Bowers (Criss Cross/Split Second) had pen in hand and it was red hot. There's some nice photography on show, with Wild (Cornered/They Won't Believe Me) treating us to shadows and light tactics. However, I lament that there wasn't someone like Krasker or Musuraca on photographic duties, for this cries out for some chiaroscuro wonders. Elsewhere It's sad to report that Byron Barr as the outraged convict is simply not menacing enough, one has to hanker for a McGraw, Brand or Brodie in the role.
As for the finale? Well the makers have their cake and eat it. Having baited the Hays Code with crafty glee, pic leaves things open ended - baiting us the viewers in the process, and it works. Smartly performed by the principal players, waspishly written by Bowers and astutely steered by De Toth, this may not be in hidden gem territory, but it definitely has to be recommended to lovers of the noir form. 7.5/10
