“Though Ray’s film is frequently classified as a film noir, it’s really more of a love story set against the backdrop of a life of crime. Bowie and Keechie find each other after short lives without emotional affection. Ray crafts a beautifully moving romance between his two lost souls, as he would frequently do throughout his career, even if the viewer knows things will end tragically.” (They Live by Night)

“Steele starts off the film as a cynical, extremely bitter man who seems completely unfazed to learn that the young woman who had been at his apartment the night before has been brutally murdered. Even photographs of the corpse stir no emotion. The question is not whether he committed this unspeakable act, only whether he was capable of it.” (In a Lonely Place)

“In many ways, the entire mood of Ray’s noir is altered in this transition from the dark, shiny streets of the metropolis to a palpably cold and snowy countryside. The grit and the rawness disappear. A handheld camera we’d seen used in Wilson’s last straw display of violence against a suspect becomes almost unthinkable in the comparatively placid landscape of emptiness. The color white is used to establish purity and cleansing of the soul from the grimy alleys of the city.” (On Dangerous Ground)

“Even looking at the film now, the ingredients are there for Wind Across the Everglades to fit comfortably in Ray’s filmography. It’s a step removed from his great ones, ultimately a curiosity caused by a general lack of any rhythm, but there are still elements of what would’ve interested Ray in most every scene.” (Wind Across the Everglades)

“As a Ray film, Party Girl cannot help but to hinge primarily on how this central love affair plays out, and, for all of the movie’s forays across genre, it just has to be the main point of interest. If Ray did make the same film repeatedly, we’re left judging them based on how effective he was in unfolding the perpetually troubled romance at the center. As such, Party Girl, at its core, is a persuasive continuation, even an unexpected farewell, to Ray’s Hollywood concerns.” (Party Girl)

Ranking the Oeuvre:

1.) In a Lonely Place (1950) - Clearly, honestly, and authentically in the running to be my favorite film. I’ve recently been fond of putting The Apartment in that spot, but I’m no longer sure anything means more to me than In a Lonely Place. It’s not just the central relationship between Dix and Laurel. There’s also a devastating undercurrent about how we approach the outside world and how our feelings must, by necessity, simultaneously resist compromise as well as accepting all of the required superfluities we’d rather ignore.

2.) Johnny Guitar (1954) - I guess I’ve seen this three or four times now and I still don’t feel like I’m truly getting everything Ray was doing. I love to watch it certainly, with Sterling Hayden playing along as the title character and Mercedes McCambridge giving what must be one of the strangest yet most emboldened performances in all of film. This was Ray’s second color film but already he was showing an absolute mastery of presenting different shades to the viewer as a way to affect our sympathies. Joan Crawford’s outfits, from the opening stark quality of pure black and through red and yellow, remains, for me, the ultimate use of color for a single character in any picture.

3.) On Dangerous Ground (1952) - Robert Ryan embodying the tormented law enforcer as someone unable to function - to live - amid the constant crime in city streets. The first half of this film is spectacular in its plotless insistence on establishing Ryan’s character as a Ray male archetype of confusion and, by extension, loneliness. As the action moves upstate, taking everything from the slick grime of the city to a more peaceful country life, the whole mood of the film changes and it becomes a remarkable acceptance of the protagonist to then allow him to live with some sense of normalcy, albeit in the middle of a murder investigation. Essentially, I see this as an early example of Ray trying to make things work between his male and female leads despite the original ending leaving things far more uncertain.

4.) The Lusty Men (1954) - Ray stated at one point that this film was all about seeking a home. Robert Mitchum’s character begins by returning to his former home, which is now occupied by a fairly gentle old man, and the couple he encounters - played by Arthur Kennedy and Susan Hayward - have the goal of saving enough money to purchase a home of their own. That’s a sliver of the American dream, right? I revisit Ray’s films again and again, and I always see him as the preeminent romantic realist concerning the American dream. He presents characters with depth and warmth but he still struggles to fully overcome reality.

5.) Bitter Victory (1957) - First off, great title. I’m not a Richard Burton aficionado, but he’s exceptional here as the jaded military man convinced that truth and honor are the primary rewards of service rather than bureaucratic medals. This is such a modern film, something which could’ve been released comfortably ten years later and which remains relevant today. It was Ray’s only leap into black and white CinemaScope, but the images look just amazing. I wish this was a more well-regarded work as it has quite a bit to say, probably the most politically conscious film Ray directed, and yet still maintains a competely involving storyline of Burton being pitted against his ostensible ally played by Curt Jurgens.

6.) Rebel Without a Cause (1955) - A great film and maybe even Ray’s most important considering the wide impact it had. This is also James Dean’s best peformance. He captures teenage rebellion, becoming the very first movie star to give some understanding to a previously overlooked generation. The relationship he develops with the Sal Mineo character serves as perhaps the true central conflict in the movie, and it’s possibly the first legitimate depiction of subversive homosexual lust in a mainstream Hollywood film. At the very least, this is the key entry in showing teenage rebellion and Ray manages to still do so with his signature touches of longing and uncertainty.

7.) They Live by Night (1948) - Sits comfortably among the elite debut features in American cinema. It was fully Ray’s vision and he presented two exquisitely doomed lead characters as more than simply their criminal backgrounds. You ache for these lovers in a way Altman’s Thieves Like Us never even attempts. Still, what causes my interest here to wain a tad is the great number of similarly themed stories we have for comparison, with most actually coming after this one.

8.) Bigger Than Life (1956) - The big Nicholas Ray theatrics here come full circle here. It might be his most overt dip into melodrama. Ray generally was a master of blurring genre and instead giving the viewer something far more distinct inside his own vision. He did clearly enjoy melodrama and you see that across several films from Johnny Guitar and Party Girl to, most obviously, in this film. It thrives by defying our expectations of where the ’50s nuclear family should be and what perfection ideally should mean. The eventual chaos of James Mason’s home life sort of serves as a contrast against pretty much every other Hollywood film of this era. Mason’s actions are so warped in comparison to the norm that his descent feels all the more shocking as a result.

9.) Party Girl (1958) - No matter how prepared you are to watch this, expectations will probably be shattered. The film cherrypicks from Ray’s career and eventually adds something else entirely - a gangster-musical hybrid with the requisite Ray romance played out just about as far as it can conceivably go. I can see where infinite amounts of praise would be given here, but my reservations come down to a plot overly concerned with proving some mettle among the dying gangster interest. Stars Robert Taylor and Cyd Charisse are virtually perfect.

10.) The Savage Innocents (1960) - This, for me, is where the line gets drawn in Ray’s career. Everything below this film is noticeably inferior for a variety of reasons. It may be somewhat charitable, but I keep the Eskimo experiment in the upper tier because it so clearly shares the Nick Ray concern - exotic locations, a subculture of misunderstood people, outsiders being condemned by society. Anthony Quinn’s performance is perfect inside that niche. He’s strangely sympathetic but never to the point where it feels like the viewer is being forced into taking sides. Ray was inherently subjective in the way he made films, but there’s still a sense of objectivity complementing the primary point of view. The key, as ever, was that he didn’t judge. Ray’s humanism was so pronounced over and over again that this particular film feels, in a way, like the culmination of that emphasis.

11.) Hot Blood (1956) - If you ever watch this with an audience I think you’ll gain a new appreciation for Ray’s ability to play to crowds. It’s not a great picture and has virtually no undercurrent but the combination of brilliant color alongside the wide CinemaScope framing and the musical and comedy interludes elevates the film to a place best reserved for the classic ticket buyer. I can imagine the grandparents of the world uniting to champion this movie. “They just don’t make ‘em like that anymore,” you’d hear in unison. It also allows Ray to explore yet another odd and frequently forgotten set of people in the Gypsies.

12.) Wind Across the Everglades (1958) - Obviously not a coherent Nicholas Ray picture and a very troubled shoot. Despite those shortcomings, portions of what must’ve interested Ray and the influence he would’ve subsequently had during filming are not difficult to find. Christopher Plummer’s free-spirited yet inherently troubled protagonist is merely another shade among the classic Ray heroes. The atmosphere of surrogate families and unfulfilled lives lends itself to what we’d expect from the director. It’s unfortunate that the film loses itself in the editing and struggles to overcome significant gaps in motivation.

13) Born to Be Bad (1950) - A stretch, with decent material, in a film that maybe should be better but just is not. It’s instead happily mediocre, featuring a performance from Joan Fontaine that reveals an ability to effectively play wicked. More interesting is Robert Ryan, here working with Ray for the first of several times and bringing something more to his role than perhaps even what you can immediately notice on the screen.

14.) The True Story of Jesse James (1957) - The first mistake was casting Robert Wagner as Jesse James. If he’s your guy to play this charismatic figure who’s nonetheless dotted with enigma then the movie’s already failed. Theoretically, the casting could be overcome but it’s not here and Ray delivers one of his more uninteresting films. Some attention should be given to the death wish philosophy James exhibits which fits with other Ray protagonists of the time. It’s simply not enough to sustain an entire film, though.

15.) A Woman’s Secret (1949) - Very mild interest should be given to Herman Mankiewicz’s Citizen Kane-like screenplay structure and it’s also noteworthy that Ray was first teamed with Gloria Grahame here. Otherwise, we’ve got a Maureen O’Hara-Melvyn Douglas picture which goes nowhere. I don’t think Ray’s heart was in this one.

16.) Knock on Any Door (1949) - The payoff never comes in this tale of a young hoodlum (John Derek) defended by a prominent attorney (Humphrey Bogart) on murder charges. Ray tries, but it’s all flat. The best thing here is that In a Lonely Place came from Bogart’s taking to Ray.

17.) Flying Leathernecks (1951) - I don’t quite think this is a bad movie because Robert Ryan’s performance is worth watching, but it’s woefully standard and, on the surface at least, jingoistic. A dozen other directors could have been in charge of a picture with John Wayne playing a Marine commander at Guadalcanal. It’s Ray’s least personal effort.

Unseen:

Run for Cover (1955)

King of Kings (1961)

55 Days at Peking (1963)