Ruthless (The Cornfield #26)

It was a mistake to watch this on a public domain DVD, as the movie looked like something photographed from a VHS tape that had been unspooled onto a dirty floor and trampled on, complete with mysterious ellipses and sudden shifts in time (the disc clocked in at under 90 minutes, IMDb has the complete version at 104; it looks like the Netflix streaming version is the long one, and a much better print). Playing computer catch-up on the longer version filled in some blanks.

A fable of pure ambition, Edgar G. Ulmer’s Ruthless tracks the success of Horace Woodruff Vendig (Zachary Scott) as he claws his way to millionairehood; the movie is obviously influenced, in theme and frequently in style, by Citizen Kane, although it also seems to be an answer to the ideas of people like Ayn Rand in its portrait of self-interest and the toll such a philosophy takes (The Fountainhead was published five years before Ruthless came out, and was a hit, and Rand was peddling her ideas in magazines and such). Vendig’s big mansion in the opening sequence evokes Xanadu, but its interiors have the strange airiness of a fascist political rally, especially in Ulmer’s architecturally-minded visual treatment.

Vendig, an old man, is announcing his great financial giveaway for the cause of peace; extensive flashbacks will reveal his true nature. Boyhood friend Vic Lambdin (Louis Hayward) is on hand to provide a skeptical response to Vendig’s generosity, and also to rub his friend’s nose in the fact that he has taken up with a younger woman who freakishly resembles the woman they both loved in their youth. Both roles are played by Diana Lynn, a curious choice for the role but a welcome actress at any time.

The female roles are interesting and well-acted: Martha Vickers plays a socialite who takes up Vendig in college (he’s now known as Woody, the better to capitalize on a vaguely respected family name of his past and add a bit of Ivy League Jazz Age sass); when he finishes using up her connections and family influence, there’s Lucille Bremer, as the wife of a corporate monster (Sydney Greenstreet, very human here). When Vendig struggles to best the Greenstreet character in a bit of capitalist chess-playing, he goes after the wife for romance and insider information, exploiting her position in his customary manner.

People describe Ruthless as a low-budget Kane, but it also looks influenced by The Magnificent Ambersons, especially in the early sequences of old houses and faded family names. Vendig the youth is played by Bob Anderson, the kid who played George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life, the George that has his sore ear slapped by Mr. Gower. The lad goes to visit his father, who now lives in a saloon/whorehouse with a large aquarium; dear old Dad is played by Raymond Burr in Gay 90s garb and mustache, a huge man who gets pushed around by his slatternly girlfriend. With various visions of what people become, Vendig can be somewhat forgiven for his super-achiever attitude.

Ruthless is missing something, even in its more complete running time. It has no “Rosebud,” for one thing, and wide-eyed Zachary Scott, such a fine cad, looks a little more overwhelmed than overwhelming here. Maybe that works, in a funny way, for the film: Vendig is carried along in the current of a corrupt system and gets destroyed, just like all the little people.