Johnny One-Eye

Johnny One-Eye
Johnny One-Eye
Directed by	Robert Florey
Screenplay by	Richard H. Landau; (as Richard Landau)
Based on	Damon Runyon; (based on a story by)
Produced by	Benedict Bogeaus
Starring	Pat O'Brien; Wayne Morris; Dolores Moran; Gayle Reed;
Cinematography	Lucien N. Andriot
Edited by	Frank Sullivan
Color process	Black and white
Production; company	Benedict Bogeaus Productions
Distributed by	United Artists
Release dates	May 5, 1950; November 16, 1950 (New York);
Running time	78 minutes
Country	United States
Language	English

Johnny One-Eye is a 1950 American film noir crime film directed by Robert Florey and starring Pat O'Brien, Wayne Morris, Dolores Moran and Gayle Reed.^[1]

Plot

In Manhattan, former gangster turned legitimate businessman Martin Martin has become the target of a politically ambitious district attorney who has offered immunity for Martin's former crime partner Dane Cory in exchange for his testimony. After being informed about the deal and narrowly escaping arrest, Martin visits Cory to dissuade him from testifying. The meeting becomes a shootout in which Martin is shot but kills one of Cory's henchmen before fleeing. With his picture on newspaper front pages and a reward on his head, Martin hides in an abandoned house. While recovering to prepare a final assault on Cory, he adopts an injured dog that strays into his hideout and names him Johnny One-Eye.

Cast

Pat O'Brien as Martin Martin
Wayne Morris as Dane Cory
Dolores Moran as Lily White
Gayle Reed as Elsie White
Donald Woods as Vet
Barton Hepburn as Cory Henchman
Raymond Largay as Lawbooks
Lawrence Cregar as Ambrose
Forrest Taylor as Man on Street who quotes Lord Byron
Lester Allen as Designer-Choreographer
Jimmy Little as Captain of Police
Jack Overman as Lippy
Lyle Talbot as Official from District Attorney's Office
Harry Bronson as Cute Freddy

Reception

In a contemporary review for The New York Times, critic Thomas M. Pryor wrote:

[T]here is no evidence in the screen-play version by Richard Landau of the spirit that distinguished Mr. Runyon's flavorsome chronicles of picturesque underworld characters. Nor is there any vitality in the direction or the performances of a competent cast headed by Pat O'Brien. ... Robert Florey, who directed, never succeeds in bringing any effective degree of tension to the manhunt and has handled with marked clumsiness a number of sequences involving a curly-headed little girl—a blurred carbon copy of Little Miss Marker herself—who is abused by one of the racketeers and befriended by the other. After about five minutes of little Gayle Reed's self-conscious cuteness even a tolerant parent is likely to run screaming from the theatre.^[1]