Noir Nook: Magnificent Characters – Rose Given, Cry of the City (1948)
Film noir is practically overflowing with memorable characters, and within that massive collection of dames and dudes, I have a lot of favorites. This month’s Noir Nook is shining the spotlight on one of these: the magnificent Rose Given in Cry of the City (1948).
This 20th Century Fox feature stars Richard Conte as Martin Rome, who was charismatic, oh-so-charming, and a complete sociopath – we meet him after he’s been wounded in a shootout during a botched robbery that left a cop dead. The film follows Martin’s efforts to elude the authorities – headed up by dogged lieutenant Vittorio Candella (Victor Mature) – and flee with his young and innocent lady love, Teena (Debra Paget in her big screen debut). In typical noir fashion, the film takes a labyrinthine route as Martin carelessly uses a series of characters – including a prison hospital trusty, a nurse, and his own little brother – to achieve his goal. Along the way, he pinches some stolen jewels from a shyster lawyer (Berry Kroeger) and tracks down the dame who’s most interested in getting her mitts on those jewels: Rose Given, unforgettably played by Hope Emerson.
The solidly built Rose is a former entertainer who, we learn from another character, had a “terrific set of pipes [but] couldn’t carry a tune in a wheelbarrow.” Perhaps her lack of singing talent is what led Rose to her current vocation – she works as a masseuse under the moniker of Madame Rose (when she’s not teaming up with local hoods to burgle the homes of her wealthy clients).
Rose is only in three scenes, but her entrance into the film – more than an hour in – is a visual treat. Martin is dropped off at Rose’s home-slash-place of business by an old girlfriend (Shelley Winters) and rings the doorbell. In the distance, at the end of a darkened hallway, Rose appears, framed by the open doorframe and backlit from the glow in her apartment. She walks down the hallway toward Martin (and us), stopping three times to turn on additional lights – these provide further illumination for the hall, but Rose’s face remains shrouded in darkness until she opens the front door, gives Martin the up-down, and coolly tells him: “I’m sorry. We’re closed.” (Seconds later, though, she recognizes him and invites him inside.)
From the moment she enters the screen, Rose is mesmerizing. She’s completely unflappable – when Martin insists that she was in on the jewelry heist, she doesn’t bat an eyelash, but calmly accuses him of bluffing. When Martin hands her a newspaper which proves he killed the lawyer who knew of Rose’s involvement, she rolls up the paper (as if she’s about to swat Martin like a pesky fly) and remarks, “I’m glad you killed him, Martin. He was a bad man. Very bad.”
In order to give Rose the pilfered jewels (which are safely ensconced in a subway station locker), Martin has four requests: a car, $5,000, a way out of the country, and a good night’s sleep. Here, Rose demonstrates that she’s no pushover. She claims to only have $2,000. She feigns ignorance when it comes to a method of getting him out of the U.S. And when Martin proves that he’s a worthy opponent, she smoothly revises her tactics, offering the weary Martin a massage that abruptly morphs into a physical threat – until she learns that Martin doesn’t have the locker key on him. “I suppose not. You’re too smart for that,” Rose tells him, punctuating her words with a menacing, yet almost affectionate caress.
Rose’s second scene is a brief one – less than a minute long – but it’s no less captivating. It takes place at the breakfast table on the morning after Martin has gotten his requested “good night’s sleep.” Martin doesn’t like to eat in the morning (he’s starting his day with a cigarette), but Rose certainly does, and she leaves no doubt that she enjoys her food. Watching her eat sparks a reaction somewhere between revulsion and admiration; it’s a whirlwind of gastronomic activity as she talks with food in her mouth, her cheeks bulging and one elbow on the table, offers a saucer of pancakes to Martin, pours coffee, and shares that she loves to cook and wants to buy a home in the country, where she can have fresh eggs, milk, and cream every day. It’s something to behold.
But it’s in her last scene that we really see what Rose is made of. Here, Rose meets Martin at the subway station, where he is to hand over the key to the locker where the jewels are stashed, and she’s to give him the money and the means to leave the country. Three guesses as to whether this transaction goes off without a hitch – and the first two don’t count. Rose is a joy to watch as she gives a master class in moxie; Martin thinks he’s running the show, but he hasn’t reckoned with Rose, who shows up in a fancy hat and fur coat, like she’s on her way to an evening at the theater. But Rose isn’t here for entertainment purposes. She’s here to get those jewels, without giving up a single nickel to Martin – so when she snatches the locker key out of his hand and pulls a gun on Martin, we’re not a bit surprised. We even cheer. Sadly, for Rose, things don’t end up as she’d planned, but let’s just say that she doesn’t go down without a fight. Literally.
Cry of the City is available for free on YouTube, so you can treat yourself to a rewatch or discover it for the first time. Either way, be sure to keep an eye out for the fabulousness that is Rose Given. You’ll be glad you did.
…
– Karen Burroughs Hannsberry for Classic Movie Hub
You can read all of Karen’s Noir Nook articles here.
Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of the Shadows and Satin blog, which focuses on movies and performers from the film noir and pre-Code eras, and the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages, a bimonthly newsletter devoted to all things film noir. Karen is also the author of two books on film noir – Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. You can follow Karen on Twitter at @TheDarkPages.
If you’re interested in learning more about Karen’s books, you can read more about them on amazon here:
,
