It's been a long minute since I walked these lonely streets. Tonight I found myself on the streets of L.A. I don't know. Maybe it's because I've been watching BOSCH: LEGACY. It reminded me that even in its noir infancy, L.A. was a lady with a dark secret.
My Gun Is Quick is Mike Hammer at his grittiest. Robert Bray makes his film debut as the titular private eye. Tired, fed up, and hungry, Hammer stops at the Star Cafe, a narrow hole in the wall of a Los Angeles side street. There he meets Red, a working gal too tired to go out on the streets for the night. The soles of her shoes are worn much like her soul. See, she came to Hollywood from Nebraska to be a star but the only gigs she could get were live performances in seedy motels. Shorty, the owner of the cafe knows it and berates her to force her to leave.
Hammer ain't having it.
He buys her a bowl of the Soup du Jour. Gives her money to buy shoes, clothes, and a bus ticket back to the 37th state. Unfortunately, before she can do any of that, a thug named Louis shows up presumably to get her working again. Hammer beats him up and sends him on his way. Before she leaves, Red shows Hammer a ring connected to a wartime heist in Europe. Later, when Red is killed in a hit and run, the ring turns up missing.
For as misanthropic as Hammer can be, something about Red's death triggers the white knight in him and he's off on a crusade that will take him to the two latest stops on the Bar Noir Lonley Street Pub Crawl.
Tonight's first stop is the Star Cafe, owned and operated by the diminutive stock character Shorty.
Long and narrow, the Star Cafe gives off the vibe of having once been nothing more than an alley. There doesn't seem to be a kitchen, more like a flat top grill where he can heat soup an make chopped egg sandwiches. It's the kind of place a public payphone doesn't guarantee any privacy and everyone eats with everyone.
The Star Cafe kind of has a roadhouse feel to it. Things can get a little heated in small spaces. Just ask Shorty and Louis.
With a belly full of lukewarm coffee, colder soup, and a chopped egg sandwich, it's time to follow a lead to the Bluebell Club, a burlesque joint with murder on its menu.
Note the intimate latticework to convey a false sense of privacy. It sort of matches the checkerboard tablecloth. Each table has a lamp! Please add a Michelin star to the review!
The Bluebell Club provides classy adult entertainment. The dancers are very demure.
