Directed by Nicholas Ray. Written by Charles Schnee and Nicolas Ray
Society’s not fit for some people, or rather, some people cannot find their way back into it. It’s the cruel truth for Bowie (Farley Granger) and Keechie (Cathy O’Donnell), a doomed pair of young lovers who must trek around the country trying to outrun the warrant for Bowie’s arrest, the rampage of crime he’s roped into, and the truth they’re both fighting: that a life together was never possible in the first place.
In Nicholas Ray’s hands, that cold truth makes it all a fairytale, however. Granger and O’Donnell have genuine chemistry, and their characters’ childish naivete that grows more pronounced as the story goes along becomes touching, especially as the cynical nature of their world becomes obvious and inescapable.
Ray allows both Granger and O’Donnell a sensibility that jars against the hardboiled trappings of the noir genre, and They Live By Night has the quality of a dream because of it. Similar to how David Lynch would merge the cruel and saccharine in a show like Twin Peaks, so does Ray combine angry, frenzied violence with tender emotion, heightening the experience of both.
As Bowie, Granger has livewire energy, and his combative jaw enters every scene before he does. If he laid it on any more, it’d be close to tweaky, but it’s a wholehearted take on a 23-year old boy who’s lost his youth to prison. O’Donnell poses as redemption and transforms. From strong-willed operator to coy girl, O’Donnell makes the switch with the edges of her mouth and the line of her brows. If there’s an element where They Live By Night shows its age, it’s perhaps its traditional values when it comes to the roles of men and women, turning Keechie from a tough-love companion into a fretful partner undone by the whims of her heart.
Howard Da Silva poses as a memorable bad egg as Chickamaw, an older associate who causes nothing but trouble for Bowie. A ruined eye grants him some visual flair, but it’s his pitiable narcissism, do-nothing-right ability, and quivering insecurity that makes him a souse to remember.
They Live By Night is a melodramatic thriller about snakebitten love, and despite featuring crunching car crashes, savage beatdowns, and ugly manipulation, it’s the soft moments of They Live By Night that define it: Bowie and Keechie rushing off a Greyhound bus to get married at an all-night wedding “chapel” because it’s the closest thing they’ll ever come to the real thing, playing house as honeymooners, or trembling with fear for the other’s well-being when things inevitably go south.
Crime is the sizzle on the steak, but ruined dreams that we all share is the meat of They Live By Night, as two kids bounce off the ever-encroaching walls of society. Their hopes are touching, their failure to achieve them even more so, and Ray’s film is at its most potent when it indulges the innocence of its two protagonists. Like most movies now 75 years old, its mannerisms, pacing, and performances require some settling in for those not not accustomed, but you open yourself to it and indulge, there’s a dreamy story to enjoy of two kids taking on the world.
Mikkel Frederiksen 