“They take their live sin their hands… when they take each other in their arms!”
I've been meaning to write about Tomorrow Is Another Day (1951) for a while now. I first saw it a few years ago, and it's one of those lesser-known noirs I've come to appreciate even more since. So what better excuse to revisit it than the Back in Black: Another Film Noir Blogathon, a celebration of everything that makes this genre so irresistible? Especially since this one takes the familiar lovers-on-the-run formula and gives it a rather interesting twist.
Directed by Felix E. Feist, Tomorrow Is Another Day has nearly everything I enjoy in a good noir: troubled characters, questionable decisions, a little romance, and that nagging feeling something is bound to go wrong. But what makes this one stand out is how surprisingly tender it becomes, without losing that underlying sense of danger.
And then there's Steve Cochran! He looks as dark, handsome, and easy on the eyes as ever, but this time he's not playing the usual heel. I've always enjoyed Cochran in tough-guy roles, but seeing him play a genuinely decent, rather awkward fellow was a refreshing change. Add Ruth Roman, who gives one of her most interesting performances, and you get two terrific leads who make this modest Warner Bros. picture far more engaging than you might expect.
Cochran plays Bill Clark, a man who has spent eighteen years in prison for killing his abusive father when he was just a boy. Having lost practically his entire adolescence and young adulthood behind bars, Bill emerges into a world he barely understands, with little knowledge of women, relationships, or the ordinary experiences most people take for granted. He may look like a grown man, but emotionally he's still something of a frightened adolescent, and Cochran captures that awkwardness beautifully.
I particularly enjoyed the early scenes after Bill's release, when he begins to discover the small pleasures of freedom. His curiosity about automobiles, his fascination with women, and his almost boyish enthusiasm for food are amusing at first, but they're also rather sad. He's experiencing the world with the bewilderment of someone who missed out on nearly everything most of us associate with growing up. Just as he begins to enjoy his newfound freedom, however, an intrusive newspaper reporter drags his past into the headlines, reminding him that society has no intention of letting him forget it.
And I must say, it's difficult not to feel a little protective of him, even when he's being exasperating! There's something rather endearing about watching this handsome, physically imposing man become so completely flustered by the opposite sex. It's a side of Cochran we didn't get to see nearly enough, and I wish he'd been given more opportunities to show it.
Cay is tough, cynical, and knows exactly how to handle men, particularly inexperienced ones like Bill. When he wanders into her world, she's quick to recognize an easy mark, and before long the poor fellow is buying her presents while she barely bothers to remember his name. She's got the sharp tongue, the fetching figure, the platinum hair, and that world-weary attitude we associate with the classic noir dame. I couldn't help thinking of Barbara Stanwyck's Phyllis Dietrichson in Double Indemnity (1944), although I think Cay's blonde hairstyle is considerably more flattering than that infamous wig!
At first, Roman appears to be playing the familiar femme fatale, a woman whose charms might lead an unsuspecting man straight into disaster. And trouble certainly isn't far behind! Cay is already involved with George Conover, a possessive police detective who isn't particularly pleased to find Bill coming home with her. A heated confrontation turns violent, Bill is knocked unconscious, and a shooting leaves the pair caught up in a mess neither is prepared to handle. To make matters worse, Bill has no clear recollection of what happened, while Cay knows considerably more than she's willing to admit. With his criminal record hanging over him and her own reasons for fearing the police, the two decide to flee rather than take their chances with the authorities. Not exactly the romantic adventure Bill had in mind when he first met her!
What I particularly enjoyed about Roman's performance is how she gradually lets Cay's hard-boiled exterior soften. Beneath the cynical attitude is a woman who once dreamed of becoming a ballet dancer, only to discover life had other plans for her. As she ruefully explains, she started out dancing on her toes and ended up on her heels. It's a terrific little line, funny and sad at the same time, and it tells us quite a bit about how Cay has come to view herself.
As their relationship develops, Roman reveals unexpected warmth without entirely abandoning Cay's streetwise instincts. She isn't suddenly transformed into some impossibly virtuous heroine, and thank goodness for that. She's still capable of making questionable decisions, particularly when her own survival is threatened, but genuine affection begins to challenge the defensive attitude she's spent years perfecting. There's something touching about watching a woman who's become so accustomed to disappointment find herself caring about someone else's future as much as her own.
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Blonde today, brunette tomorrow! Ruth Roman gets a little Hollywood hair magic  |
Still, Roman makes the transformation convincing because we begin to recognize that the softer Cay was there all along, buried beneath years of disappointment and self-preservation.
It's an interesting reversal of the traditional femme fatale. Instead of deliberately drawing her man toward destruction, Cay begins to fight against the circumstances threatening them both. Roman gives us a complicated woman who doesn't always make the right decisions, but whose motives become increasingly understandable.
Tomorrow Is Another Day really stood out to me. Unlike the feverish, self-destructive passion of Joseph H. Lewis's Gun Crazy, or the doomed romantic innocence of Nicholas Ray's They Live by Night, Bill and Cay aren't running toward some grand criminal adventure. They're desperately trying to escape one, and their ambitions are almost painfully modest: steady employment, a little home, and the chance to live like everyone else.
But here's what makes their situation so wonderfully noir. Bill has already paid for a crime committed in childhood, yet his prison record practically guarantees that he'll be viewed with suspicion whenever trouble finds him. Cay, meanwhile, knows more about the incident that sends them fleeing than she's prepared to admit, and her dishonesty only makes matters worse. Neither is a hardened criminal mastermind, but between his fear of returning to prison and her instinct for self-preservation, they manage to make an already dreadful situation even more complicated. That's one of the things I love about noir: people don't necessarily have to be wicked to find themselves in terrible trouble. Sometimes fear, desperation, and a few bad decisions are more than enough.
I particularly enjoyed the scenes set among California's agricultural workers, where familiar city streets and nightclubs give way to dusty roads, humble accommodations, and ordinary people trying to make ends meet. Bill works in the fields while Cay settles into domestic life, and for a while their existence takes on an almost reassuring normality. But that ordinary existence is precisely what makes the suspense so effective. Every new acquaintance carries the possibility of recognition, and even a friendly neighbor might become a threat if circumstances change.
Lurene Tuttle and Ray Teal are especially effective as the Dawsons, along with young Bobby Hyatt as their son, Johnny. What I find interesting is that Feist doesn't need to turn these people into outright villains. Money, hardship, and self-interest can push perfectly ordinary people into questionable decisions, which fits right into the morally uncertain world of film noir.
A Depression-era social drama runs through these scenes, and I found that mix of working-class hardship and mounting suspense particularly effective. Even the wide-open California countryside offers little relief from the couple's predicament. Bill may have escaped the prison walls, but he's still living with the fear of being locked away again. In many ways, that's the film's cruelest irony: he's supposedly a free man who never really feels free.
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Even a little domestic bliss can't keep the shadows of the past away.
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Director Felix E. Feist may not be one of Hollywood's better-known filmmakers, but he certainly knew his way around a crime picture. Having already directed The Devil Thumbs a Ride (1947) and The Threat (1949), he brings that same knack for suspense to Tomorrow Is Another Day, although this time there's a little more tenderness beneath the tough exterior.
And what about that cinematography? Robert Burks, who would later become one of Alfred Hitchcock's favorite cameramen, photographing classics like Rear Window (1954) and Vertigo (1958), gives this modest Warner Bros. production some wonderfully effective compositions and camera angles. I particularly enjoyed the sequence in which Bill and Cay hide inside an automobile being transported along the road. It's a clever little bit of suspense and proof that you don't need an enormous budget to create a memorable scene.
A few interesting bits of Hollywood history go with this one, too. For starters, the film was originally titled Spring Kill before becoming Tomorrow Is Another Day. Quite a change! And let's face it, Tomorrow Is Another Day hardly sounds like a film noir! I'd expect a sentimental romance, not two fugitives desperately trying to stay one step ahead of the law. But the more I think about it, the more I like the title. There's a certain irony to it, especially when Bill and Cay can't seem to catch a break. And speaking of titles, am I the only one who sometimes confuses this one with There's Always Tomorrow (1956), starring Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray? I love both films, but those two “tomorrows” have certainly gotten me mixed up more than once.
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Steve Cochran |
And here's another interesting tidbit: Burt Lancaster was originally announced for Bill Clark. Now, I love Lancaster, and I'm sure he would have been terrific, but I wouldn't trade Cochran's performance for anything. Something about his rugged good looks, mixed with that awkward, almost boyish innocence, makes Bill so endearing. Besides, how often do we get to see Steve Cochran playing the good guy instead of the handsome heel? I'm certainly not complaining.
Roman, meanwhile, appeared in Alfred Hitchcock's Strangers on a Train (1951) around the same time, though I find her role considerably more rewarding. Interestingly, she and Cochran weren't strangers offscreen. They had known each other from their early theater days in New York and had previously appeared together in Dallas (1950). Perhaps that familiarity helped account for their natural chemistry, because their constant bickering, gradual affection, and occasional misunderstandings are some of the film's most enjoyable moments.
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Ruth Roman |
Film noir historian Eddie Muller is another admirer of this overlooked picture, ranking Tomorrow Is Another Day at #20 on his list of 25 noir films that will stand the test of time. In a 2008 Los Angeles Times interview, he also declared, "I am determined to have 'Tomorrow Is Another Day' totally reevaluated and added to the canon of great noir films. It's fantastic." I can certainly understand his enthusiasm. It's exactly the sort of lesser-known Warner Bros. picture that makes exploring classic films so rewarding.
I totally get why so many people have mixed feelings about how this movie ends, and honestly, I'm totally in that camp too. I won't give away any spoilers, but here's the deal—after everything Bill and Cay go through, the ending feels kinda too neat and tidy, especially given Bill's dodgy past. That said, the more I watch it, the more I've started to really dig what the ending actually is. Sure, it doesn't exactly stick to the typical noir formula, but I've genuinely warmed up to it, and honestly, I think it works pretty well for these two characters.The screenplay certainly has its contrivances, but what interested me most was how Bill and Cay's fear and mistrust continually worsen their situation. Neither is particularly skilled at making sensible decisions, and I found myself wanting to shake some sense into both of them! Yet that's also what makes them believable. They're flawed people trying to find their way out of circumstances that seem determined to keep pulling them back.
I've never believed that every good film noir has to end in complete misery. What makes Tomorrow Is Another Day so interesting is how easily two people who want nothing more than an ordinary life can become trapped by their own fears and past mistakes. The danger doesn't disappear when they leave the city, and neither does the past. It's a different sort of noir, certainly, but no less effective. It may not have all the familiar trappings of the genre, but it captures the essence of film noir through themes of fate, guilt, desperation, and the seemingly impossible struggle to escape one's past.
After all, fate's cruelest act isn't always destroying someone's dreams. Sometimes it's to let them believe, just for a moment, that those dreams might finally come true.
And isn't that wonderfully noir?
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| And speaking of femme fatales, if you enjoy these fascinating, dangerous, and sometimes downright wicked women of noir, check out my Femme Fatale series, where I take a closer look at some of the genre's most unforgettable ladies. |
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