Stanley Kubrick's first unqualified success, "The Killing", follows a group of ordinary men intent on robbing a racetrack. It plays like an engrossing crime-doc, complete with a clinical, newsman-style voice-over narration, an endless amount of footage of horses being led to the starting gates, and colourfully authentic looking (if, for the most part, painfully hammy) actors in key roles.

The first half of the movie consists solely of character introduction. This section, for me the first time through, was terribly boring. Little or no development is given; just a quick snapshot of each man before we move on to the next. Still, there are some fairly original moments here. When Randy (Ted de Corsia), a good cop with a gambling problem, goes to see his bookie, we expect a burly and surly man demanding either payment or broken thumbs. What we get is Leo (Jay Adler), a dapper gentleman, courteous to his client, understanding of his situation. Somehow, this is even more menacing, for there must be something terrifying behind the enigmatic Leo, we just aren't allowed to see it. The fear of the unknown is a powerful equalizer. In hindsight this section gains real appeal, once we know where each piece of the puzzle fits. We can then fully understand each player's reasons for doing the job, and can deduce if they were successful or not. Also, subtle little hints can be re-examined and recognized, such as the homoerotic tension between Marvin (a beaming Jay C. Flippen) and Johnny (the film's star, Sterling Hayden, who would make a return trip to Kubrick-land as General Jack D. Ripper in "Dr. Strangelove").

The film's second half, after the characters have been introduced, is propulsive and hypnotic. We've been told bits and pieces of the scheme, we know a little about each person's job, but the whole thing is still a mystery. In this section, we see everything from every angle, and the machinations of the scheme -- and the plot -- are wondrous to behold. Here is where Kubrick's much-lauded technique of mixing up the chronology of events really gets a good grip on the film (to be fair, this technique did exist in the source novel, Lionel White's "Clean Break"; "The Killing" brought this anti-structure idea to the attention of cineastes and future filmmakers like Quentin Tarantino and Guy Ritchie, who've used it to great effect in recent years). We follow each member of the gang, seeing how they enact their part of the plot. Once done, we go on to the next guy. The effect this has is that Kubrick is able to tell several different sub-storylines at once, each contributing to the main narrative thrust. It's not terribly hard to follow, but does call for some patience. The film slowly sneaks up on the climactic moment, only to jump back several hours to an event that happened that morning to a different character. Don't worry, though. The payoff -- a juicy nihilistic moment -- is worth the wait. It shows Kubrick at his silliest, and his most dire.

Further ratcheting up the tension is a smattering (more like an ovation, really) of near misses that almost put the train off the tracks. Fate, our boys' friend for most of the film, always steps in and rights things quickly. One quick example: Johnny has rented a room at an outdoor hotel. At one crucial point in the plot he has to go back to that room to pick up a package. Sticking his key into the lock, he hears voices inside. The audience jumps in astonishment, as it appears his best laid plans have been spoiled by an overzealous innkeeper! After a moment of terror himself, Johnny realizes some important information: it's not his room! He moves down a couple of feet, fits the key into his real lock, and things are back in business. It's just one small moment, in a series of small moments, that does wonders in terms of confounding audience expectations.

Kubrick's camera, instead of being the all-knowing objective eye, is more like a voyeur here. Many scenes are blocked in such a way that the camera appears to be hiding behind furniture, looking through the cracks, in order to see the action. In fact, almost every introductory scene that takes place in someone's apartment is shot this way. We see someone enter via the front door, someone who we have yet to meet. As they make their way through the apartment, so do we. Only our view is obstructed by lamps, chairs, a TV set, etc. It's a curious game of 'I Spy' between camera and subject, that contributes greatly to the general shadiness of the situation. In some key moments, however, Kubrick allows his camera right into the action. A scene in a shady apartment turns into a brutal bloodbath. In its aftermath, Kubrick uses his camera to show us the last man standing's point of view. He tiptoes around bodies, aghast at what he's done, shaking the whole while. It's quite an effective way to show the horror of the moment for a character we wouldn't have thought capable of such mayhem.

Despite being the kind of thriller that's structured in such a way so that every moment builds on the suspense of the previous scene, until the audience nearly falls off the edge of their seats, the film has several scenes tempering of black comedy. One such moment involves a paranoid parakeet, who appears to know that doom is about befell his owners, even before they know it. His comedic warnings go unheeded. Kubrick, who has a reputation for being a cold, clinical director, proves in moments like these (and in similar moments in "Full Metal Jacket", not to mention the entirety of "Dr. Strangelove") that his sense of humour is well developed. He puts it to good use here. As he does with the rest of his formidable skills.

Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: VHS