No Way Out (1950)

"You ain't gonna change the world; you've got work to do."

Classic Hollywood handled racism with kid gloves; films that bothered allowed their message to outweigh the drama. Credit Joseph L. Mankiewicz's No Way Out (1950) for avoiding this shortcoming. Besides Sidney Poitier's screen debut, it presents a scalding story with commendable clarity.
Dr. Luther Brooks (Sidney Poitier) treats two criminal brothers, Ray Biddle (Richard Widmark) and Johnny (Dick Paxton) shot in a hold-up. Johnny dies under Dr. Brooks' care, with Ray, a racist loudmouth, claiming Brooks murdered him. Dr. Brooks wrestles with self-doubt, while Ray's buddies initiate a race riot against local blacks. An autopsy clears Dr. Brooks, and Ray decides to get revenge on his own. Johnny's ex-wife Edie (Linda Darnell) tries to help Brooks.
No Way Out's striking in its bluntness. Screenwriter Lesser Samuels provides unalloyed racial slurs, shocking even today. The film captures resentment in all forms, from Dr. Wharton's (Stephen McNally) resenting black doctors taking white jobs, to scarred doorman Lefty (Dots Johnson) plotting vengeance against Ray's hoodlums. Even Ray whines against society helping blacks while ignoring poor whites. Few films of that time evince a seething air of racial hatred.
It helps that Mankiewicz's African-American characters are unusually diverse. Dr. Brooks is the exemplary educated Negro, given enough self-doubt to seem human; he almost believes his spinal tap did kill Johnny. More layered are characters like Lefty's agitator, Dr. Wharton's friendly maid Gladys(Amanda Randolph), Brooks' sister (Ruby Dee) who pleads for her husband (Ossie Davis) not to join Lefty's mob. No Mammy stereotypes here; everyone's a rounded character.
Yet No Way Out succumbs to the expected pitfalls. Mankiewicz insists on a equivalence between troublemakers Ray and Lefty; fair in abstract, not in a society where urban segregation caused insuperable tensions. Ray's too broadly played to earn our pity; Edie gets a stronger character arc, overcoming prejudice through contact with Brooks and coffee with Gladys. Then comes the finale, presenting Brooks an ironic choice that slams the message home.
Mankiewicz's direction contains some creative highlights. The build-up to the riot is wonderful, with whites practicing their violence ("Wanna hit a nigger?") in a junkyard as Lefty's mob moves into position, clanking pipes rising along with Alfred Newman's score. The scene culminates with a flare fired, an ominous silence before the vengeful blacks attack. Later, Edie escapes Ray's deaf brother George (Harry Bellaver) by turning up his radio and summoning angry neighbors.
Sidney Poitier makes a striking impression: smart, charming, determined, fiercely restrained. To Poitier's chagrin, Hollywood made him repeat this role ad nauseum, until Guess Who's Coming To Dinner made him a faultless God. Richard Widmark plays his usual sneering psychopath, while Linda Darnell excels in an unusually strong role. Ruby Dee and Ossie Davis mark their first screen paring; Amanda Randolph steals every scene.
No Way Out isn't subtle or nuanced, but its directness is refreshing. It would be decades before Hollywood handled racism so forcefully; it's easy to overlook the posturing preachments in a solid film.