Film Noir Review: Call Northside 777 (1948)

“It’s a good world, outside.”

No actor better represents American decency than James Stewart. In both his military and movie career, Stewart was the everyman, the humble hero who managed to get the job done through sheer force of will. He was someone you innately rooted for, and his most iconic roles emphasize this special connection.

That said, likability only goes so far. Stewart would not have been one of the greatest actors of all time were it not also for his staggering range and surprising adaptability. In a career that spanned seven decades, Stewart excelled in every genre imaginable. He was a convincing cowboy, a charming love interest, and in the case of Call Northside 777 (1948), a crusading reporter with a hot lead.

Call Northside 777 is unique in that it’s one of the few documentary-style films noir to feature a star-studded cast. The common practice, at least as far as 20th Century Fox was concerned, was to make tough crime films based on true stories, starring reliable B-players like Dennis O’Keefe and Mark Stevens. They were cheap, profitable, and grounded by their refreshing lack of glamor. The less recognizable the face, the more believable the faux “documentary” angle.

Stewart’s casting may have violated the practice, but it also arrived at a crucial point in his career. While he’d scored an Oscar nomination for It’s a Wonderful Life two years earlier, the actor was at a professional crossroads, and fearful that his postwar output had paled in comparison to his earlier work. The fact that both It’s a Wonderful Life and Rope (his first Hitchcock collaboration) flopped at the box office didn’t help matters. He was trying to find parts that suited his older, less naïve presence, and Chicago newsman PJ MacNeal was perfect.

MacNeal is a Windy City veteran who gets assigned to the case of convicted murderer Frank Wiecek (Richard Conte). The latter’s mother has placed a $5,000 ad in the newspaper, urging people to come forward to clear her son’s name, and the novelty of the ad leads MacNeal down a rabbit hole of reconsidered evidence and fresh leads. He discovers that Wiecek’s innocence may be more than a pipe dream, and sets about trying to make a case in his favor.

There’s nothing particularly fancy about Call Northside 777. It’s economically directed by Henry Hathaway, who pioneered the documentary-style noir with The House on 92nd Street, and it sheds light on a real-life case that was begging to be dramatized. What really makes the film stand out, however, is the conviction of the acting. 

Lee J. Cobb and Helen Walker are terrific as MacNeal’s editor and wife, respectively. The former is fun as a pipe-smoking cynic who clashes with the reporter’s burgeoning righteousness. He wants Weicek cleared, sure, but he wants to sell papers a little bit more. Smaller, potentially forgettable roles are salvaged by colorful bit players like Charles Lane, E.G. Marshall, and John McIntire.

Richard Conte is perfectly cast as Weicek, a man who’s quietly rotting away for someone else’s crime. The actor taps into the pained humility that a decade in prison would instill, but there’s still an underlying bite to his words. One gets the sense that he could be guilty, even though he’s not. Conte’s career skyrocketed following the release of the film, and he would go on to perfect his coiled machismo in classics like Thieves’ Highway (1949) and The Big Combo (1955).

Then there’s Stewart, who gives one of his most underrated performances as MacNeal. The aforementioned everyman quality is present, but he’s careful to underscore it with an obsessive streak that borders on manic at times. The Wiecek case grows increasingly more important as the film wears on, and Stewart manages to communicate so much through minimal body language. MacNeal is a character of action rather than reflection, and most of his scenes consist of him rifling through photographs or interviewing old witnesses. 

A lesser star would have gone the showier route, and tried to dominate their scene partners, but he’s selective about his “big” acting moments, preferring to cede the floor to others. It works like a charm. Few actors are as compelling as Stewart when it comes to watching them think. It also gives him the chance to recontextualize his screen persona as he turned 40. MacNeal is a bit more skeptical than his past characters, and it’s precisely because of this weathered quality that his path to crusader feels so earned. He’s the same American hero we know and love; he just wants to be sure of a cause before he backs it.

Stewart regained his confidence (and his box office clout) soon after the release of the film, and would go on to have arguably the best run of his career in the 1950s. That said, it’s tough to imagine the dense, ambiguous performances he gives in Broken Arrow and Vertigo were it not for his foundational work here.

I won’t bore you with a rundown of the various beats that MacNeal has to navigate, for experiencing them firsthand is one of the film’s distinct pleasures. There are no great twists or profound revelations about humanity to be found here; just good storytelling and great execution. Sometimes, that’s all we need. Dial up Northside 777 if this sounds like the noir for you.

TRIVIA: Thelma Ritter was cast as a police secretary, but most of her scenes were cut from the final release. As a result, her lone interaction with Stewart went uncredited.

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You can find all of Danilo’s Film Noir Review articles here. 

Danilo Castro is a film noir aficionado and Contributing Writer for Classic Movie Hub. You can read more of Danilo’s articles and reviews at the Film Noir Archive, or you can follow Danilo on Twitter @DaniloSCastro.