X Marks the Spot (1942)

Undescribable Perfection

the audience applauded

Good concept, poorly executed.

Great story, amazing characters, superb action, enthralling cinematography. Yes, this is something I am glad I spent money on.

It's a film about bootlegging rubber tires in the middle of the war and opens with an elderly Irish cop coming across some suspicious characters standing in front of a warehouse. "What's going on here?" Oh, nothing. "I'll just take a look in that warehouse if ye don't mind," says the cop, who is shot to death while trying to open the door. Delaney, the cop, is in violation of the Fourth Amendment to the Constitution, which requires a search warrant from a judge after establishing probable cause. But never mind. This isn't a technically demanding film. The old cop's murder sets the son, a private detective, on the trail of the gang, to their ultimate disadvantage.It should be pointed out that during World War II, tires and the rubber they were made from, were as valuable as gold. You couldn't GET new tires. The rubber that they were made from came from Southeast Asia, now in the hands of the Japanese. What little rubber the Allies had were used to build tires for military vehicles like Jeeps. Stealing tires was not just a criminal act but an unpatriotic one.Well, the cop's son, Damian O'Flynn, is about to be inducted into the U.S. Army. As a first lieutenant. (How do you do that?) He's angry and fast. He cooperates with the police at first because they're both in pursuit of the chief heavy -- Jack La Rue, not to be confused with "Lash" La Rue. Some reviewers keep pointing out that I'm criminally careless for having mixed up the two. Well, I AM criminally careless but at least I don't suffer from obsessive-compulsive disorder! Anyway, the heavy here is Jack La Rue, née Gaspere Biondolillo in New York. And kindly don't confuse him with Jack La Rue, Jr., son of Jack La Rue, not son of Lash La Rue. Now, I'm glad we got that out of the way.No particular acting skills are on display. None are necessary. It's a fast paced mystery with no fooling around and no time for theatrics. The performers are professionals. They hit their marks, say their lines, express whatever feelings are appropriate to the situation, and dart out for the next scene. They're all likable enough, and Helen Parrish is conventionally attractive.

I have a fondness for B detective movies from the 1940s. While this isn't a great one, it is an entertaining one worth a watch. A private detective, Eddie Delaney, has just been commissioned a Lieutenant in the Army and has to report for duty in three days. Delaney's father is an Irish cop who is murdered by gangsters who have just stolen a truck loan of tires. Rubber was a big black market item during World War II. The gangster, Marty Clark, is played by Jack LaRue ( who made a career of playing gangsters) who was a big time booze runner during prohibition who avoided prison because he always paid his income tax. Clark owns a night club called 'The Spot.' Delaney finds out that Clark was responsible for his father's murder and when Clark is murdered, Delaney becomes the number one suspect. Delaney then must find the real murderer and the ringleader of the rubber heisting gang. One of the most interesting things about the movie was its depiction of a central music exchange operation where, for a nickel, people could call the exchange and order a particular song to be played through the exchange's juke box. The discovery of the ringleader of the gang wasn't really much of a surprise since the two most likely candidates had already been murdered. It was nice seeing Anne Jeffrey's in one of her very early credited roles. This movie is a pleasant way to spend an hour.

It's disheartening to see Stuart Palmer's name mixed up in this little film (in every respect of the word) about rubber racketeers. The identity of Mr Big is as obvious as the dimple in Helen Parrish's cheek, thanks not only to Palmer's fall-back on a standard plot stratagem, but to rigid type-casting. Dull Damian is a ho-hum hero, and if I see Robert Homans go into his Irish-on-the-beat act just once more, I'll sic Jack LaRue on to him like a shot. Jack plays a heavy as usual, although Palmer gives him a smart intro as the gangster who survived the police clean-up after prohibition, because he'd taken great care to pay his income taxes on all the murder and high-jacking contracts he took out. Sounds fishy to me, but at least it's a new angle. Vince Barnett has a brief role as a waiter, while Neil Hamilton wastes our time as a crooked businessman. The only bright spot in the movie is provided by happy-as-a-thug Dick Wessel (of all people) who takes a shine to our cute-as-a-vinyl heroine. Yes, Helen plays a disc jockey in one of these places where customers placed a dime in the juke box and relayed their music order to a central exchange full of 78s. This ingenious set-up was featured in several "A" features but here it's given the strictly from hunger treatment.Sherman's direction is B-grade competent, but boring as all get-out. Bring back Sam Newfield! Muddy photography doesn't help liven up interest either. Other credits are equally shoe-string.For a climax, Sherman uses the old Poverty Row dodge of staging a scene on the actual floor of an unvarnished Republic sound stage. Well, he does fill the space up with lots and lots of fake rubber tires. We all know that rubber tires are so pictorially attractive, what could be more excitingly suspenseful than a mild little chase through such wonders?

***SPOILERS*** Soon to be inducted into the US Army, as a second lieutenant no less, private dick Eddie Delaney, Damian O'Flynn, gets involved with this gang of tire smugglers who gunned down his dad police Sergeant Tim Delaney, Robert Homans, who uncovered the gangs secret storehouse. The tire storehouse was already ripped off by former bootlegger, and now rubber tire smuggler, Marty Clark, Jack La Rue. Clark is a slippery eel of a hood who, unlike Big Al "Scarface" Capone, outfoxed the authorities during Prohibition days by not forgetting to pay his taxes.It later turns out that Clark ripped off the tire place from this unscrupulous businessman John Underwood, Neil Hamilton, who like the good and money hungry creep that he is wants to make a killing during wartime by dealing, in selling to the highest bidder, desperately needed rubber tires that the US military needs to defeat Hitler and Tojo. Determined to get his tires back Underwood hires Eddie to track down those who ripped him off with Eddie not at all knowing that Underwood is working against the very country that he as a soon to be a member of the US armed forces is sworn to defend.Interesting little movie that has to do with black market racketeering and this really cute radio disk-jockey Helen Parrish, Linda Ward, who gets involved with the tire smuggling operation. That happens when Helen unwitting answers a phone call telling her to announce a black-out, because of a possible Japanese or German air raid. This was done so that the killer of one of the main tire smugglers can go into action and knock off his victim and be able to get away, during all the confusion, while the light are turned out.On the run after being framed for at least two murders, Clark & Underwood, Eddie with the help of Helen, whom he calls every day on her radio show with song requests, uncover who's really behind these murders and it's someone very high up in the police department. This creep also want's to get in on the action, tire smuggling, by using his power and influence to protect the racketeers with a nice kickback of greenbacks for himself as a reward. I guess it's hard to put your kids through collage or get plastered with high priced booze every night on only a meager policeman's salary.Eddie saves the day and the country, from an acute rubber shortage, by uncovering who's the big man behind the rubber, or tire, smuggling racket and having him and his hoods put on ice together with the frozen tires that they were stealing. In the end pretty Helen Perrish, what a doll, promises to marry Eddie when he comes a marching home from the war. A war, WWII, that he has yet to have even participated in.