Filmbrain Presents: Great Moments from Mediocre Films

We all have them. Tiny, often fleeting moments from an otherwise second-rate movie (or even third, fourth or fifth-rate) that just stay with us. A humorous line, a simple gesture, a breathtaking shot, a glance, the way a line of dialog is delivered -- anything, really. Filmbrain thought he would call attention to such moments from time to time as he comes across them. The first in the series comes from 1932's Two Seconds, starring Edward G. Robinson. As the film opens, Robinson is about to be executed in the electric chair. The audience watching is told that it takes two seconds to die -- and within that two seconds comes the flashback that makes up the rest of the film. It's a tale that's been told many times before, especially in the 30's -- nice guy meets, falls in love with, and marries a devouring dame who plays him like a fool. He's too blind in love to notice her oh-so wicked ways, and he ignores the warnings and advice from his best friend. By the time he figures her out it's too late -- he's broke, in debt, and has killed his best friend. Her abuse doesn't stop, and he winds up killing her. Bog-standard stuff. But then comes the moment in question -- and it's probably Edward G's five greatest cinematic minutes. Picture the scene - a darkened courtroom, the judge hands down the sentence. Robinson, looking very small at the foot of the bench. A single spotlight (very theatrical) suddenly shines down on him, and he delivers a five minute monologue in which he pleads his case, explaining that he should have been killed when he was living under her thumb. "Don't you see...you're killing me at the wrong time! If you'd have killed me when I was a rat, I'd have thanked you for it. But you didn't! But now that I've squared everything off, you wanna kill me! But it ain't fair! It ain't fair to let a rat live, and kill a man!" It's the type of performance that very few actors can pull off without slipping into farce or painful over-acting. Robinson exhibits this sort of controlled mania, and it's impossible to watch him deliver this monologue directly into the camera without chills running down your spine. At only 68 minutes, it's an easy movie to get through, and well worth it just to catch those final few minutes. (Occasionally shown on TCM.)