Cloak and Dagger

Usually ranked among Fritz Lang's worst movies, Cloak and Dagger (1946) is highly entertaining. Critics lament the film's studio-imposed censorship: it's still well-crafted, surprisingly thoughtful escapism.
Late in World War II, the OSS recruits physicist Alvah Jesper (Gary Cooper) for a deep-cover mission into Italy. The Germans are accelerating their atomic weapons research, with Gestapo agents spiriting Italian scientists north. After Gestapo goons murder Jesper's old colleague (Helen Thimig), he joins Italian partisans to rescue Professor Polda (Vladimir Sokoloff), falling for Gina (Lilli Palmer). But the Fascists still have several tricks up their sleeves.
Admittedly, Cloak and Dagger hinges on a creaky conceit: why would the OSS send an untrained physicist to play spy games? If viewers can accept this (and why not, if they can accept Indiana Jones as meek professor-turned-tough guy), it's solid. Lang moves quickly through the first hour, making Jesper's conversion acceptable (if not credible) while mixing action and plot. The second half grows more deliberate, especially the long sequence of Jesper and Gina dodging detection (and falling for each other). Many criticize these scenes, yet their romance provides Cloak much needed humor and humanity.
Lang packs Cloak and Dagger with excellent action scenes. The movie opens with a tense raid, with Gestapo agents shooting up a partisan hideout. Cloak's big set piece is typical Lang: Jesper and a Fascist policeman (Marc Lawrence) engage in a brutal wrestling match, ironically underscored by lively street music. There's also a tense seaside landing, during a thunderstorm, presaging a similar sequence in The Guns of Navarone. Other scenes, like the climactic firefight, prove more conventional.
Writers Albert Maltz and Ring Lardner Jr. pointedly examine science perverted by politics. Jesper starts with a creaky bromide, asking why money allocated for atomic weapons doesn't go towards cancer research? Less didactic scenes show physicists trapped into impossible moral choices: Lodor is blackmailed with execution of hostages; Polda's daughter is jailed. The partisans allow Polda to take a stand... which proves personally fruitless. For a movie bristling with chases and shootouts, Cloak and Dagger is surprisingly sharp.
Yet Lang envisioned an even more subversive picture. Glenn Erickson explains that Cloak's original ending contained a pointed antinuclear message, framing atomic power as a genie that can't be uncorked. Instead, the extant film concludes with an abrupt Casablanca rehash. Undoubtedly it was impolitic, a year after Hiroshima, to cast aspersions on the Manhattan Project. Even this excision doesn't compromise Cloak, which delicately balances idealism and atomic dread.
Gary Cooper makes an odd physicist, but proves an agreeable spy: tough, snide and romantic in turn. Lilli Palmer (Operation Crossbow) makes a wonderfully resourceful, sharp-tongued partner. Vladimir Sokoloff (The Magnificent Seven) and Helen Thiming (Decision Before Dawn) score as physicists, Marjorie Hoshelle plays an effective honey trap and Marc Lawrence a sinister bad guy. But Robert Alda and Dan Seymour's partisans are flat characters, besides seeming less Italian than Pizza Hut.

Cloak and Dagger is agreeable hokum, far better than its dismal reputation. Detractors can rightly point to the uneven pacing and Gary Cooper's incongruous casting. Considering everything Lang gets right - the exciting action, fun interplay and smart script - these seem negligible complaints.