FALLING MAN, THE

Aka Quella Corogna Dell'Ispettore Sterling (I), Frame Up (Int), Frame Up - Una intriga mortal (Es), Ce Salaud d'Inspecteur Sterling (Fr)
1967
Italy
Felice Testa Gay for Cinegai, Jolly Film
Director : Hal Brady [Emilio Miraglia]
Story : Max Hatired
Script : M [Max] Hatired, Dean Maurey
Music : Robby Poitevin (R.C.A.)
Cinematography : Eric[o] Menczer {Technicolor - Techniscope}
Editor : Sergius Hillman [Sergio Montinari]
Art director : Lucky Pulling
Original running time : 105 mins
Italian takings : 87.000.000 lire
Shot at Cinecitta, with exteriors in San Francisco
Cast : Henry SIlva (Inspector Sterling), Beba Loncar (Janet), Charles Palmer [Carlo Palmucci] (Gary), Paul Carey [Pier Paolo Capponi] (O'Neil), Edward G. Ross [Luciano Rossi] (Tippit), Larry Dolgin (Kelly), Bob Molden (Rocky), Charlene Politer (Anne), and with Keenan Wynn (Commissioner Donald)

This film is available from Moviesunlimited

Italo-crime films of the late '60s are an altogether different proposition to their successors in the following decade. In a similar way to the Giallo's of the period, they appear a lot less confined by any specific formulaic constrictions of the genre. Titles such as The Professional Killer (Tecnica di un omicidio, 66), Every Man is My Enemy (Qualcuno ha tradito, 67) and Date for a Murder (Omicidio per appuntamento, 67) pick and mix elements from the whodunit, the hard-boiled noirs of American fiction and the quixotic world of the Hitchcockian thriller. They seem to exist in an altogether different environment to the urban hysteria that populates productions throughout the '70s.

The Falling Man is probably even more idiosyncratic than most, partially because it was filmed with a partially American cast and with location work in the US. It also drips 'artiness' from it's every pore. That's not too bad a thing, as artiness at the time tended to involve incomprehensible plotting, lots of people looking moody, a plethora of stoned groovers and at least one strip joint scene. However, it also involves a concept; the fact that the whole narrative is recounted through flashback as the man recalling events tumbles (in fragmented motion) to the floor, presumably dead after being the victim of a drive-by shooting.

The victim is Sterling (Henry Silva), and it's his story that provides the meat of the narrative (believe me, even after two completely sober viewings of this, I was still at a loss as to some of the plotting intricacies). A police inspector, he is framed for the murder of one of his informants by two hoodlums called Kelly (Larry Dolgin) and Tippit (Luciano Rossi). Despite their guilt being patently obvious, they are able to escape jail because of the fact that their confessions were beaten out of them.

Sterling, as the officer responsible for their harsh treatment and disgusted by the inefficient legal system, resigns from his position. This leaves him unable to do much when his son is killed, presumably by the same duo. It also renders him impotent when he witnesses them carry out a robbery on a factory. However, he does find out that they have an ostensible leader, a mysterious individual called 'Charlie' who, like Keyser Sozek in The Usual Suspects (95), is someone that everyone seems to know of rather than actually know.

From this point, the ex-inspector sets about tracing the identity of this criminal mastermind. His investigation brings him into contact with a beautiful model called, err, Janet (Bebe Loncar), who lives on the fringes of the incumbent hippie scene. He suspects that she's 'Charlie's' squeeze; she denies all knowledge of the man. To make matters even more difficult, every time the he does come close to persuading anyone to speak, they tend to end up mysteriously dead.

This is a cracking little movie. Weighing in at a more than adequate 80 minutes, it's a far cry from the contemporary bloated epics that heave themselves onto the cinema screens like consumption-riddled syphilitics. The plot is so thin as to be insignificant, but it's the mood and the attitude that keeps you in the saddle. Accompanied by a dissonant soundtrack, it's all about watching interesting looking people drive, walk and mope around - occasionally flavoured by a hearty dose of action.

The direction is lovely, treading a fine line between being tautly proficient and pretentiously obtuse. Emilio Miraglia only made a few films, and those that I have come across (such as The Red Queen Kills Seven Times (La dama rossa uccide sette volte, 72) and The Night Evelyn Rose from the Grave (La notte che Evelyn uscì dalla tomba, 71)) have tended to be of the deliriously enjoyable variety. One of the most impressive feats that he manages in this is to actually make Henry Silva - an actor with a face so impassive it looks as though it's been prematurely embalmed - smile!

A word or two also has to be said about conflictory credits that exist around The Falling Man. It is often mistaken for Assassination, another Miraglia film that also stars Henry Silva (alongside Evelyn Stewart/Ida Galli and Bill Vanders) which was made in 1967 for the same production companies and with a simliar crew. Further confusing matters is the fact that Assassination is sometimes erroneously credited to hack supremo Al Brescia. The dismal 1972 western, Shoot Joe and Shoot Again (Spara Joe... e così sia!), suffers from a similarly cloudy background, but was a Miraglia film. This is probably due to the fact that Miraglia's pseudonym, Hal Brady, is easily confused for Al Bradley, the preferred moniker of the latter (and lesser) filmmaker.

Further confusion derives from the fact that there is an alternate version to the more common Falling Man print. Entitled Frame Up, this has recently surfaced on Greek Video, and features absolutely none of the 'framing' (sorry) narrative device: Silva is shot at the end, not the beginning of the film, which transforms the whole thing into a much more straightforward production. This would appear to have more similarity to the original, Italian print, but I have to admit that I prefer the temporally twisting Falling Man version. Which makes this one of few occasions in which post-production tampering could actually have improved a film. As a final point of interest, this began life as a prospective project for Franco Prosperi (who directed The Professional Killer and Every Man is My Enemy at around the time).

Reviewed by Matt Blake