Hoover Dam – Where the obsessed come to die?
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The flick 711 Ocean Drive (1950) presents itself as a cautionary tale concerning the dangers, both societal and individual, of gambling, claiming that its making was opposed by American criminal elements and required the support of law enforcement. Be that as it may, this is an interesting, but not mesmerizing, tale of an electronics repair man whose understanding of early telecommunications gear permits him to help gambling syndicates better service their customers, from gathering legitimate information for bookies to less savory practices. From their, he climbs the ladder, ever jumpy, always looking for the latest advantage, to the sadness of the various ladies, until he meets a fatal bullet because of his staggering insistence on cleaning up on every last dollar owed him.
There are good elements to the movie, such as the cinematography, story, acting, and dialog. The illustration of how his technical skills and innovation help drive the gambling enterprise are curiously reminiscent of later shows in that it’s more than a wave of the hands, it’s actually quite believable – you end up nodding your head and muttering, Oh yeah, that makes sense.
But the main failing of this movie (besides the puzzling title) are the characters. They differentiate, they’re not hard to tell apart, but they don’t breathe. They don’t engage with the viewer. The lead is not some sympathetic, fatally flawed hero out of Shakespeare, driving us to weep at his mean obsession with money – his obsession with money is his only strong character trait. He abhors love, and the women who try to save them fail. There’s little to sympathize with in this guy. The other characters are similarly unengaging. They have no life outside of the plot, really.
The movie is listed as noir, but it’s not, because a noir film shows believable, likeable characters driven into disaster by the choices of themselves or, even better, others. In 711 Ocean Drive, you only get one of the two.
And it’s not really enough.
