99 River Street (1953)

You won't be disappointed!

Great Film overall

Your blood may run cold, but you now find yourself pinioned to the story.

This is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a very long time. You have to go and see this on the big screen.

This film has the familiar noir story of a framed man who needs to clear his name, but since the framed man in question is an ex-boxer you get the bonus of a few bloody fist fights peppered through the story. When the lead says the line, "I'm only barred in New York, there are still 47 other states where I can fight!" it took me a few seconds to realize his math wasn't off as a result of getting hit in the head a few too many times. There are lots of other great lines in this one and Frank Faylen who plays Ernie the friendly taxi driver in 'It's a Wonderful Life" apparently couldn't shake the typecasting as he plays Stan the friendly taxi dispatcher in this raw noir.

This is a great movie with Payne. I have seen him in a couple others that were lousy but this one is great.Basically his cheating wife causes him to get framed for her murder and involved with a tough jewel thief and a fencer who has a gang of thugs.He plays a lovable but tough boxer---perfect for the role who is down and out thanks to an eye injury.I always wonder in these movies why if you are being chased by all the cops in Manhattan you don't at least remove your cab drivers cap or try to disguise yourself in some way. I suppose it makes it easier to follow things.What I have noticed watching these movies and reading between the lines is the type audience they were aimed at. Someone who had gone to high school "had an educaction" and the highest aim in life of the main characters was opening a gas station. Since the world has become dumbed down since 1953 this same target audience now gets a social science degree in college and a government job--the dumber ones go to film festivals instead of enjoying a good movie likes this.Good movie.RECOMMEND

Poor Ernie. He takes a beating in the boxing ring, and then even a bigger one from two heartless women. You can just feel his smoldering emotion about to explode like a hand grenade on that theatre stage. All those theatre types rushing around patting themselves on the back, while he stands there, the disbelieving dupe. As the luckless boxer turned cabbie turned fall guy, Payne's great. The anguish all over his cracked face. So how's he going to get back his self-respect when he keeps getting the short end of the stick. Now he's up for a murder rap unless he can track down the slippery Rawlins (Dexter), which doesn't get any easier especially after the cagey slickster puts a bullet hole in him. Rarely have I seen a movie where the lead takes such a beating.But what can he expect when he's got that silken tramp Peggie Castle (Pauline) for a wife. Who could trust her around any man. Too bad actress Castle died so young; she was so good in these heartless roles. Then there's Eveline Keyes as Linda who can't seem to decide which side of the fence she's on. At least as an actress Keyes could give a graduate course in how to over-act, judging from the movie's first half. This is a typical Phil Karlson film—you can feel the characters' pain even if it is up there on the movie screen. At times, Karlson's close-ups are a stunning portrait of agony. It's noir, for sure, even if the focus is more on character than shadowy atmosphere, though there's still a lot of the latter. At times the plot gets a little confusing, but that's okay since Ernie's supposed to be up against dark forces he can barely distinguish. Anyway, it's first-rate thick- ear, showing why Karlson's considered a master of crime drama that makes us not just see but feel as well.

John Payne, smart guy, not much of an actor, made a series of inexpensive studio-bound semi-noirs in the early 50s in which he was often the victim of a frame. In this one, he's an amiable ex boxer -- nice, masculine occupation -- who now drives a cab because of an eye injury. When he discovers that his gorgeous, sexy wife (Castle) is schtupping some thief, he becomes bitter and easily angered. It's even worse because her boyfriend is Brad Dexter, the sleazy private eye who had shot Sterling Hayden in "The Asphalt Jungle." Peggy Castle simply has no taste, you know? Dexter is mixed up with a gang of armed robbers, fences, money launderers, and shoe fetishists or something. It's not clear exactly what such established heavies as the pop-eyed Jay Adler and the Neanderthal Jack Lambert actually do, besides double cross each other.Adler has agreed to buy some stolen diamonds from Dexter but when Dexter show up with Payne's runaway wife in tow, Adler demurs. He don't do business with no dames because they can't be trusted. The solution to Dexter's conundrum is simple. He takes the luscious Peggy Castle up to his apartment, strangles her, and dumps the body in the back of Payne's cab.Dexter finagles the fifty large from Adler but Adler wants the money back and pursues Dexter as he tries to make a getaway from a pier behind the River Cafe or whatever it is, in Jersey City. Payne is in pursuit of Dexter because, by this time, he's discovered that Dexter is the killer of his wife. Well -- not exactly. Actually that conclusion requires a leap of faith on Payne's part.But let's not get into holes in the plot or, more generally, its weaknesses because then we'd have to figure out why so much emphasis is place on Payne's determination to return to boxing, a narrative thread abruptly dropped, like a corpse in the back seat of a taxi. We'd have to start wondering why Jay Adler has such a problem doing business with women around, even as mere witnesses. What did Adler's mother ever do to him? Speaking as a psychologist, I'd begin with deficient potty training. And then, too, we'd need to ponder Dexter's motives in dragging Peggy Castle along and insisting she witness the exchange of money and diamonds. We psychologists call this "separation anxiety." It's why children cry when they have to leave home for their first day of school. I have other questions too. To whom do I send this bill? The director was Phil Karlson, who had a curious career. His work might be called clumsy by some but I think "primitive" is a more apt description. He does a headlong job, kind of like Samuel Fuller but without any irony or social comment. He rams the fast-paced plot down your throat whether you're ready or not. He made some clunkers but also some more disturbing things like "The Phoenix City Story" and "Five Against the House" and "Walking Tall."