Stanley Kubrick's Killer's Kiss
A look back at the maverick director's overlooked 1955 film noir
Feb 8, 2009
Written, produced and directed by Stanley Kubrick for little more than $75,000, this slender tale of warring lovers would have lost itself in a maze of B movie obscurity were it not for Kubrick’s name hovering above the title – a retrospective nod of assurance for those more familiar with the aesthetic elegance of his later work.
Here, Jamie Smith plays washed up boxer Davey King, the rough around the edges tough guy who falls for neighbour Gloria Price (Irene Kane) – a blonde but none too ditzy Times Square nightclub hostess – after saving her from the over-zealous advances of shady boss Vincent Rapello (Frank Silvera). While the pair busy themselves with minor details like delivering monologues over the kitchen table, falling in love and booking one way tickets out of the city an enraged Vincent seeks revenge, ensuring that any hasty plans to ‘say goodbye to the bright lights’ will be no picnic in Central.
As a story ‘Killer’s Kiss’ has lofty noir pretensions that fall some way short of their intended mark, possibly because of budgeting restrictions, probably because of Kubrick’s surprisingly lean, structurally clumsy script. Seasoned fans of the genre will recognise Smith’s allegorically beaten palooka, Price’s mildly duplicitous siren and the generic ‘Heavies’ employed by Rapello to cast long shadows in dark side-streets as familiar stock characters, but the overall effect is rather stilted and far too hollow to offer anything close to satisfaction as the final credits roll after little more than 64 black and white minutes, barely enough time to develop believable motivations for such characters.
However, what the film lacks in substance it more than attempts to atone for in presentation. Usually, the employment of aesthetic devices works well in the guise of high concept, plot driven fare as opposed to low budget faux-noir endeavour’s such as this, but Kubrick makes a valiant attempt by relying on a variety of flashbacks and dream sequences to keep things fizzing along. Strangely enough, they seem to work, despite the occasionally pretentious aftertaste.
Not a great film, but Kubrick’s camerawork, narrative trickery and use of real locations hint at his promise as a director and imbue it with a charm that would be lacking in less capable hands. In the end, there’s even room for a bizarre final showdown between King and Rapello in a warehouse filled with naked female mannequins – an overtly symbolic reference to Price’s sexual hold over both men, if ever there was one.
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