Noir or Not: The Capture (1950)

By Karen Burroughs Hannsberry

Next up in our Noir or Not series is The Capture (1950), an efficient little western with a first-rate pedigree. First off, it was written and produced by Niven Busch, who had a writing career that began in the pre-Code era with the 1932 James Cagney starrer, The Crowd Roars, and whose credits included co-writing the screenplay for The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946). It was directed by John Sturges, who not only helmed such classic westerns as Gunfight at the O.K. Corral (1957) and The Magnificent Seven (1960) but was also behind the camera for noir and noir-adjacent features from the 1950s including Mystery Street, Jeopardy, and Bad Day at Black Rock. And the stars of the film were Hollywood veterans Lew Ayres, an Oscar nominee for Johnny Belinda (1948), and Teresa Wright, who won the golden statuette in 1943 for Mrs. Miniver (and who, incidentally, was married to Niven Busch at the time of filming). 

Set in Mexico, the story centers on Ayres’s character, Lin Vanner, a former oilman who’s on the run from the law, and whose backstory involves his role in the death of a man who may or may not have been responsible for a payroll theft. Vanner’s sphere is peopled by his would-be fiancée, Luana; the dead man’s wife and her young son; and a priest operating a mission in the Mexico wilderness.

But why are the authorities hot on Vanner’s trail? Is he a killer or a victim? Neither? Both? Did the dead man actually commit the payroll heist? How do the women figure into this tale? 

And, most importantly . . . is The Capture noir? Or not?

The film certainly opens with a decidedly noirish vibe; the opening credits are plastered against the backdrop of a dark and threatening sky, intersected by barren tree limbs and accompanied by a forbidding score. And the first sign of humanity that we see is the silhouette of a man on a horse, which adds to the noir-like feeling.

As we see the rider in the light of day, we note that he appears to be looking for something – or someone. And we don’t have to wait long to find out the object of his search; after the rider moves on, a man with an injured arm emerges from a stream, gathers the hat and gun he’d hidden in the nearby brush, and runs into the wilderness, looking furtively behind him. This is Lin Vanner. He eventually stumbles upon a mission run by Father Gomez (played by Victor Jory – who I know best as Jonas Wilkerson in Gone With the Wind); the kindly priest takes him in and Vanner tells him his story, launching us into a flashback – complete with voiceover narration – that will last until close to the end of the film. 

It turns out that Vanner previously managed an oil field and ran into trouble when a bandit stole the company’s payroll from Earl Mahoney (Barry Kelley), the bank vice president who was transporting the money. Led by Mahoney, a posse is formed to look for the thief, but Vanner heads out on his own and winds up shooting a suspect – Sam Tevlin (Edwin Rand) – when the man fails to raise both hands on command. Tevlin insists that he had nothing to do with the robbery and reveals that one of his arms was injured, rendering him physically incapable of raising it. When Tevlin later dies of his injuries, Vanner is consumed by uncertainty and regret, and he leaves town in search of a fresh start.

Vanner buys a train ticket for a town called Los Santos – which just happens to be the town where Tevlin’s widow, Ellen (Teresa Wright), resides with her son (Jimmy Hunt). Before long, Vanner seeks out Ellen and, using a false name, is hired at her ranch as a foreman. Ellen eventually learns that Vanner was the man responsible for her husband’s death, but over time, the two fall in love and get married. Yet Vanner is still burdened by the guilt he feels; certain that Tevlin did not steal the payroll, he determines to ferret out the truth – no matter the cost.

Outside of the film’s opening, and the flashback/voiceover narration devices, one of the first hints of noir comes via the character of Vanner’s fiancé, Luana (Jacqueline White), who visits the oil field office shortly after hearing about the payroll theft. Luana is the femme fatale type – by way of Lady Macbeth. She shows up because she’s bored sitting at home and is excited by the idea of the posse heading out to hunt down the criminal. And she’s even more aroused by the thought of her betrothed being the one to capture the thief – whether he wants to or not. When Vanner shares that he’s not joining the search, Luana first offers that he’ll be considered “a chicken,” and then grouses that “that stuffed shirt” Mahoney would get all of the credit when the guilty man is found. Finally, she abandons all subtlety, flatly telling Vanner that he’s going, and arranging for his horse and a gun. And later, when Vanner’s conscience won’t allow him to accept the $2,000 reward for bringing in Tevlin, Luana is appalled, telling him, “It’s just a sort of prize – an honor you’re entitled.” She urges him to consider what the money could mean to them – and then switches her tack to focus on what was really important: “Can’t you see it from my angle?” she asks. “How do you expect ME to feel?” (When all else fails, she ends their engagement and insists on returning his ring, leaving him with a parting shot – “You might need the money to put in a blind man’s cup or something.”)

But the most significant noir figure is Lin Vanner, who’s characterized by his inner conflicts and possesses a penchant for making bad decisions. We first see this when Vanner is hunting the payroll thief. He questions his motivations and seems to know, instinctively, that he will not only find the man, but that no good will come of it. “It was all wrong, somehow,” he recalls. “Maybe I was afraid. I don’t think I was afraid for myself – it was more like being scared of what was going to happen. The moment which had to come soon now, and would come, as if it had been determined long ago, and couldn’t be stopped by any act of mine.” If this isn’t noir, well, I just don’t know what is.

The overarching sensation of something wicked headed Vanner’s way is experienced again when he decides to quit his job and take the first train headed for parts unknown. He selects Los Santos based solely on the recommendation of the ticket agent, who tells him that the next train leaving the station is transporting a coffin, and that Vanner won’t have to purchase a ticket if he accompanies it. Vanner shares, “I knew that coffin held the body of Sam Tevlin, but I didn’t care.” But we get the feeling that he should have cared, and that the future waiting for him wouldn’t be quite the “fun new life” he anticipated. Later, a similar portent of doom comes after an event that should have been filled with joy and promise – Vanner’s wedding to Ellen Tevlin. Instead, as Vanner tells the priest, his words, his demons “weren’t through with me yet.”

Vanner is tortured by those demons, unable to let go of the past and the idea that an innocent man died and a guilty one is free. But as he hones in on the real culprit behind the scheme, another man ends up dead and Vanner makes a typically noirish bad decision; he tells the priest that the killing was in self-defense, and that he should have gone straight to the police. “It would’ve been a simple thing to do – I even thought of it, I guess – and yet, I couldn’t do it,” he says. And another misjudgment on Vanner’s part comes when the past catches up with the present and he faces the authorities. At this point, he takes an action that even the priest can’t help but dispute, and the clergyman doesn’t hesitate in making his opinion clear: “For a man of your intelligence,” he offers, “that is a poor decision.”

The Capture also exhibits a number of noirish visuals, courtesy of cinematographer Edward Cronjager; one scene features an effective use of low-key lighting as Vanner is chased by authorities through a busy train station, and another shows looming, ominous shadows in a deserted town square. One of the most memorable and lasting images is provided through the silhouette of man hanging in a bell tower on an otherwise sun-filled day. Even the final moments of the film offer a satisfyingly dim conclusion – there’s no clearly defined, happy ending for our characters. 

So, what have we here? As a western, The Capture clearly doesn’t offer the typical urban noir setting, but given so many other factors – the characteristic noir tropes, the effective use of sunlight and shadows, and the conflicted, tortured protagonist – I can say with confidence: The Capture is noir.

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Karen Burroughs Hannsberry is the author of two books on film noir, Femme Noir: The Bad Girls of Film and Bad Boys: The Actors of Film Noir. She is also the editor-in-chief of The Dark Pages film noir newsletter, founded in 2004. She can be found on X at @thedarkpages.

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The Capture (1950) is coming to our Archive Collection soon — stay tuned!