The Scarface Mob

The adage “When legend becomes fact, print the legend” might have come from a John Ford western, but applies equally well to the exploits of Eliot Ness.  After all, Hollywood would love you to believe the famed prohibition-era crimefighter and his fellow untouchables were solely responsible for busting up Al Capone’s criminal organization and making the streets of Chicago safe – not to mention liquor-free!  The truth is more complicated but it makes for a rousing bit of cinematic exaggeration as adapted by film noir veteran Phil Karlson in The Scarface Mob (1959), a theatrical presentation of the two-part TV special that continued on for five seasons as The Untouchables.

Brought in to fight fire with fire, Ness (Robert Stack) recruits his team of tough guys on the down low, hoping to dodge the police corruption hampering all previous efforts to enforce the Volstead Act.  And he makes headlines with high-profile raids on breweries and speakeasys that take a bit out of Capone’s profits, enough so that Ness gets a bounty on his head sealed by the Sicilian “kiss of death.”  But Capone’s downfall won’t come from being at the wrong end of a gun, but being on the wrong side of the IRS.

 

At this point, Brian De Palma’s big screen version is the more well known.  But the original special, produced and introduced by Desi Arnaz and Desilu productions, got there first and pulled off one of the most gritty, violent, suspenseful two hours of television ever produced at the time.  Most of the credit has to go to director Phil Karlson, whose own Phenix City Story (1955) provided a template for this “inspired by true events” sort of anti-crime propaganda.  Even though it premiered on television, The Scarface Mob delivers uncompromising brutality and a shocking amount of bloody gun battles.  But more than that, it just feels dangerous.

 

A lot of that comes from the cast, including Robert Stack, whose laser beam eyes drill holes right through the screen, and Neville Brand as Capone, using every intimidating angle of his beautifully misshapen face (if only he wasn’t saddled with that corny Italian accent!).  But it’s Keenan Wynn – in the role Sean Connery would late assume – that gives the story its heart and soul; an ex-con with honor, courage and connections who’s doomed the minute he walks on screen.  It’s one heck of a take on what’s now a familiar bit of TV mythmaking.  But, damn, if it doesn’t hold up well!

 

Arrow’s Blu-ray looks theatrical in every respect, with noirish shadows and tight grain.  Two visual essays cover much of the same ground, providing background not only on the production itself but where things start to veer away from established facts.  Extras not for review include a collector’s booklet, lobby cords and poster.

 

 

 

 

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