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D.O.A. - Finally watched this 1949 murder mystery and it's an odd one. Haven't watched any of the remakes outside of Crank. But that was so far afield of this, the original, that it hardly counts as one. The meat of the story happens in flashback because as the movie opens Frank Bigelow (Edmond O'Brien) walks into Los Angeles police headquarters and asks to see the man in charge. "I'd like to report a murder", he tells the chief of detectives and when asked who was murdered Bigelow waits the requisite beat and answers, "I was."
Bigelow is an accountant and notary public plying his trade in the small California town of Banning. He's itching to get away from his responsibilities which apparently include his secretary and longtime girlfriend Paula Gibson (Pamela Britton). He's arranged a "getaway" for himself in San Francisco where he meets up with some conventioneers and goes bar hopping with them. While there a mysterious stranger switches drink with him and when he wakes up the next morning he is clearly feeling off. After visiting a doctor they drop the bombshell that he's ingested a radioactive toxin and has only a few days to live. He spends the rest of the movie and his remaining time on earth attempting to solve the mystery of his own murder.
As for the odd part, there are weird little touches like an awkward slide whistle sound effect whenever O'Brien sees an attractive female at the hotel he's staying at. Then there's the protracted scene at the jazz club where he first gets slipped the deadly concoction. The movie leans heavily for some reason into the effect the uptempo "negro music" has on the all white patrons, showing some of them in an almost fugue state and on the precipice of losing control. I still don't understand the point of it unless it was some sort of half-assed cautionary tale about the evils of "jungle music".
And at times there was enough scenery chewing going on with various characters for it to qualify as high camp. Neville Brand plays Chester, a psychopathic hired goon who talks about himself in the third person. Needless to say, Chester is starring in his own movie. Then there's Beverly Garland as Miss Foster, a secretary who knows much more than she's letting on. And Britton as Paula, Frank's dutiful girl Friday and longtime love interest has her moments as well. There's a scene in which the two declare their undying love for each other that goes on a little too long and tilts into overkill. It ends with Britton's character staring into the camera as if to make sure the "subtlety" wasn't lost on the audience.
These might sound like complaints but they're trifling because the film rises and falls on the strength of it's script which is admittedly a bit confusing at times. But I thought that the mystery part and Bigelow's investigation of his own murder are handled well enough. But what really sells the movie is O'Brien's all-in and energetic performance. He runs and falls and picks himself up and then runs some more. He looks like he's having fun doing it too. The sometimes frenetic pace and outsized performances end up working in it's favor and ultimately help sell the story.
80/100
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