Shockproof

Directed by Douglas Sirk

Mafioso

Directed by Alberto Lattuada

Don’t get lost in the gimmickry of Shockproof. The 1949 noir is a cinematic ventriloquist act. Although directed by Douglas Sirk—still a few years away from crafting his trademark Technicolor melodramas—the conflict bears a crunchier bite than the suburban dissatisfaction later found in Imitation of Life and other Sirk classics—due to Samuel Fuller’s solo credit on the screenplay. Fuller penned a tragedy tracking ill-fated love between a parole officer and his client, the sort of hardboiled formula that the filmmaker would eventually perfect. He sold the script to a producer and the project landed in Sirk’s lap. The two men didn’t meet, and it seems that Fuller never even caught the final product (“I didn’t see Doug Sirk’s film—is he a good director?” Fuller asked an interviewer in 1967). The finished work contains recognizable flourishes from both contributors, but it turns to a sloppy blend.

Fascinating for its unlikely combination of creative forces, Shockproof (which begins its weeklong run at the Pioneer Theater on Jan. 24) isn’t a particularly good movie. The twists disappoint even as the plot promises action, leading to a conclusion that fizzles when it should pop (interviews with the writer and director suggest this was a result of studio tampering). But Sirk unearths his brand of drama from the solemn grooves throughout Fuller’s story, and certain moments radiate with strong emotional clarity. The parole officer, Griff (Cornel Wilde), stakes his authority in altruism, rather than sheer meanness, creating a surprisingly pitiable character. As part of the rehabilitation process, he welcomes the murderess, Jenny (Patricia Knight), into his home where he lives with his blind mother. Jenny initially plots to take advantage of Griff’s growing affection, swayed by her corrupt accomplice (John Baragrey). Love, of course, triumphs over all nasty boundaries, even though that wasn’t Fuller’s intention.

Since the guiding force in Shockproof comes from predictable genre tropes, the inclusion of criminal behavior feels par for the course. Not so in Mafioso, neglected Italian director Alberto Lattuada’s brilliant 1962 crime thriller (playing around town in a wonderful restoration by Rialto Pictures), which displays an unpredictably sumptuous combination of shock, irony and humor. Lattuada navigates a number of complicated sequences exploring the drollness of factory work, unshakable family ties and, finally, mob mentality.

The hapless protagonist, Antonio (Alberto Sordi) churns away contently at his 9-to-5 as a car factory foreman in Milan. In the first act, he drags his settled wife and small children off on a vacation to visit his relatives in Sicily. His classy spouse doesn’t take well to the ritualistic lifestyles of her elderly in-laws, but Antonio gleefully absorbs the nostalgia trip. Then the Mafia comes knocking, eager to recruit the former local, and the ramifications are chilling. Mafioso grows increasingly dark, but its cosmic sense of humor remains consistent throughout. American audiences might look at it as “Curb Your Enthusiasm” meets The Godfather, but it’s much better than that. Lattuada’s artistry provides proof that shock works.