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Writer's pictureGary Jive

Blast of Silence (1961) - Day 185, June 28th



Blast of Silence, a hard-boiled, rough-around-the-edges slice of ‘60s pulp fiction is far more like it. Allen Baron directs and stars in this 1961 tale of a mentally disturbed Ohio hitman named Frankie who travels to his old stomping ground of New York to off a mobster at Christmastime. While on the job he crosses paths with old friends and his childhood crush, letting his feelings get in the way of the job.

 Frankie’s a quiet but menacing assassin and, though he doesn’t say much, a full-on, gravelly-voiced tough guy narration lets us know exactly what’s going on in his messed up head. It’s a smart device, making us complicit to every dirty, horrible thought this killer has. The film constantly tells us - “You are gonna kill this guy” - we’re in on this deal too, like it or not.

 “Remembering out of the black silence, you were born…in pain…You were born with hate and anger built in… took a slap on the backside to blast out the scream… and then you knew you were alive!” - with thoughts like this, you’d probably turn out a bit of a wrong ‘un too.

 Much of the film is just Frankie wandering the streets, taking in NYC’s beautiful Christmas decorations, with the narration constantly keeping us in tune with this creepy bastard’s thoughts. These parts make me achingly nostalgic for the time I visited the Big Apple in December and adored its incomparable festive atmosphere, though Frankie’s growling about how much he despises the holidays puts a real damper on things.



Not much happens on the face of it - Frankie tails his mark, kills time, meets an old pal, falls for the guy’s cute sister. Without the cynical narration we might be fooled into thinking that the pretty Lori (Molly McCarthy) could be his shot at redemption, though the voice in his head never lets us forget - Frankie might hope this is his final job but he still has ice running through his veins. What else is he gonna do?

 It’s an affecting film, seething with quiet menace and effortless noir cool. It feels sparse, while also peppered with compelling detail. Frankie shows us, very patiently, how to get close to and kill a man without getting caught, affording us a fascinating insight into the mental state necessary to be a professional killer. Here’s a guy who makes himself feel nothing at all - a man who hates Christmas. I can’t think of anything sadder.



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