Review of The Killing (1956) by Marcelo C — 30 Mar 2009

This was a great movie even though the acting was not that great but still okay and stalney kubrick did a great job directing this film and is a reallu great black and white film by him except for Dr. Strange love but a really good black and white film and a Ex-convict Johnny Clay (Sterling Hayden) tells his girl friend, Fay (Coleen Gray), he has plans for making money, and indeed he has. He rounds up a gang and brings them in on a seemingly fool-proof scheme to rob a race track of $200,000. The first thread unravels when Sherry Peatty (Marie Windsor), wife of gang-member George Peatty (Elisha Cook, Jr.), tells her boyfriend Val Cannon (Vince Edwards) about the plan, and he cuts himself in on that action also. The robbery is completed and the gang goes to the hideout where Johnny will join them later. Val sticks up the robbers, a shot is fired, and all hands are soon dispatched. Johnny, with the money in a suitcase, joins Fay at the airport. And the fat lady still hasn't sung and after getting out of prison, Johnny Clay masterminds a complex race-track heist, but his scheme is complicated by the intervention of the wife of a teller (George Peatty) in on the scheme, the boyfriend of the wife, airport regulations, and a small dog. and I thought that the ending was good even though it would suck that he stole all that money for nothing and then got it all tooken away from him then later had to go to jail I thought that was messed up.

Track Parking Attendant: Somethin' wrong?

Nikki Arcane: You're wrong, nigger!

Randy Kennan: You jerk, you clown!

[strikes George Peatty].

Randy Kennan: Come on, clown, sing us a chorus from "Pagliacci"!

Johnny Clay: You'd be killing a horse - that's not first degree murder, in fact it's not murder at all, in fact I don't know what it is.

Johnny Clay: A friend of mine will be stopping by tomorrow to drop something off for me. He's a cop.

Joe: A cop? That's a funny kind of a friend.

Johnny Clay: Well, he's a funny kind of a cop.

Johnny Clay: You like money. You've got a great big dollar sign there where most women have a heart.

Johnny Clay: Alright sister, that's a mighty pretty head you got on your shoulders. You want to keep it there or start carrying it around in your hands?

Sherry Peatty: Maybe we could compromise and put it on your shoulder. I think that'd be nice, don't you?

Maurice: You have my sympathies, then. You have not yet learned that in this life you have to be like everyone else - the perfect mediocrity; no better, no worse. Individuality's a monster and it must be strangled in it's cradle to make our friends feel confident. You know, I've often thought that the gangster and the artist are the same in the eyes of the masses. They are admired and hero-worshipped, but there is always present underlying wish to see them destroyed at the peak of their glory.

Maurice: I'd like you to call this number and ask for Mr. Stillman. Tell him that Maurice requires his services.

Fisher: Sounds pretty mysterious. What's it all about?

Maurice: There are some things, my dear Fisher, which bear not much looking into. You have undoubtedly heard of the Siberian god Heather who tried to discover the true nature of the sun; he stared up at the heavenly body until it made him blind. There are many things of this sort, including love, and death, and... maybe we'll discuss this later today. Please remember to make that call if I'm not back at 6:30.

Fay: Johnny, you've got to run!

Johnny Clay: Eh, what's the difference?

Narrator: At exactly 3:45 on that Saturday afternoon in the last week of September, Marvin Unger was, perhaps, the only one among the hundred thousand people at the track who felt no thrill at the running of the fifth race. He was totally disinterested in horse racing and held a lifelong contempt for gambling. Nevertheless, he had a $5 win bet on every horse in the fifth race. He knew, of course, that this rather unique system of betting would more than likely result in a loss, but he didn't care. For after all, he thought, what would the loss of twenty or thirty dollars mean in comparison to the vast sum of money ultimately at stake.

Sherry Peatty: It isn't fair. I never had anybody but you. Not a real husband. Not even a man. Just a bad joke without a punch line.