When I was younger, I read many books about the people who made the movies. I got a kick out of memoirs, most of which portrayed the author as the hero of every story: Frank Capra’s The Name Above The Title was the most egregious. Fay Wray, the widow of frequent Capra collaborator Robert Riskin, called it a work of fiction. Why? Her husband’s role in some of Capra’s finest films was minimized or ignored. The Capra myth was some powerful shit, y’all.

There were two Hollywood memoirists who were candid about their lives: David Niven and Ray Milland, the star of The Big Clock. Milland’s excellent book has a snappy title, Wide-Eyed In Babylon. When he fucked up, he told you so, a refreshing quality for any memoirist.

Ray Milland was a big star in 1948. He’d won a Best Actor Oscar for Billy Wilder’s The Lost Weekend and was the king of the Paramount lot. Milland’s performance in The Big Clock was just as good. It’s a rare film noir, a big budget picture with a major star in the leading role.

The Big Clock is based on a novel by Kenneth Fearing, a noted poet and lefty activist. He worked for Henry Luce at Time Magazine, so Fearing set his novel at a Time-Life type publishing house.

As usual, I’m using the actor’s name in lieu of their character’s monikers. It’s easier for me to keep things straight, especially with a movie with as many plot twists as The Big Clock, which takes place in a compressed time frame and mostly in one Manhattan skyscraper.

Charles Laughton plays the character based on Luce. He’s a ruthless publisher who pushes his editors and writers relentlessly. Ray Milland plays the editor of one of Laughton’s magazines. He also drew the interest of the boss’ mistress played by Rita Johnson.

Milland’s marriage to Maureen O’Sullivan is on shaky ground. He’s been promising her a vacation for years but working for a tyrannical tycoon keeps him stuck in Manhattan. Ironies abound as the film was directed by O’Sullivan’s husband, John Farrow.

As you can see in this picture, O’Sullivan was not a fan of Lovely Rita Johnson who was not a meter maid:

Laughton and Johnson have a row, which leaves her dead. Unfortunately, Milland was with her before the murder and finds the body.

It looks bad for Milland at this point, but it gets worse: Laughton tries to frame our hero who desperately tries to save himself. The publisher enlists the help of his second banana played with sinister aplomb by George Macready:

The film follows our protagonist as he attempts to clear his name. The final scene includes a confrontation between Milland and Laughton:

That’s all the plot I’m willing to share after going a bit overboard in that regard in recent movie posts. I don’t care about spoilers but some of our readers do.

If the outlines of the plot sound familiar it’s because The Big Clock was remade as No Way Out in 1988. The story was moved to the Pentagon and starred Kevin Costner and Gene Hackman in the Milland and Laughton roles. It’s the rare remake that’s worthwhile even though Costner is no Ray Milland. Hackman, of course, was Laughton’s equal as an actor.

There’s a comic subplot involving an eccentric artist played by Laughton’s real life Elsa Lanchester:

Lanchester was a wonderful actress who was often cast in Laughton’s movies because he was notoriously difficult. She helped to sand off some of his rough edges. Thanks, Elsa.

I mentioned Kenneth Fearing earlier, his novel was brilliantly adapted by one of the best screenwriters of that era, Jonathan Latimer. Latimer had to change some of the more outré things in Fearing’s book including a gay subplot involving Laughton and Macready’s characters.

Director John Farrow loved Latimer’s work so much that they made nine movies together. I’m an admirer of his 32 scripts for Perry Mason.

At the top of the post I said that The Big Clock was a big budget movie. Proof of that was the participation of cinematographer John F. Seitz who was a favorite of Billy Wilder’s and shot both Double Indemnity and Sunset Boulevard.

Grading Time: I give The Big Clock 4 stars and an Adrastos Grade of A-.

Let’s goose things up by taking a gander at the artwork.

Here are side-by-side long sheet posters. On the right is the Mexican poster, which translates as The Clock Killer.

The eyes of Ray Milland are upon you:

I need to stretch my legs after spending so much time attending meetings in Laughton’s office suite. Let’s all go to the lobby:

As always, the lobby cards for this black and white movie are in color. I’ve run out of witty remarks on that subject.

All aboard The Big Clock trailer:

The last word goes to Eddie Muller’s Noir Alley intro and outro: