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Blast of Silence starts out in utero with director and lead Allen Baron cleverly positioning the camera in a dark rail tunnel, speeding toward a tiny speck of light that grows larger, to the soundtrack of a mother giving birth, a baby screaming, and the lead character, Frankie Bono, explaining that we are born in trauma and suffering and life never gets much better. This narration continues throughout the film and forms the skeleton upon which the body of the film is built upon and it is through the narration that we interpret the world of the film, New York City in the early 1960s.

Bono has come to NYC, his old stomping grounds, from Cleveland to fulfill a contract to kill a mid-level mafioso who has become too ambitious for his boss’ liking. The plot is that simple, with a couple of subplots revolving around procuring a gun for the hit and running into an old acquaintance and his sister. The bulk of the film, however, is procedural and focuses on Bono closing in on his target. The suspense builds nicely over the 77-minute running time and is a precursor to the episode from The Godfather Part II in which Robert De Niro’s Vito Corleone stalks and ultimately slays his nemesis in Little Italy. In fact, Baron has a striking resemblance to De Niro.

Blast of Silence is certainly a top-notch, taut, gangland thriller and many of its strongest elements emerge from this. Seeing the steps that Bono must go through to procure a .38 with a silencer, watching him grease the gun and ensure it is up to the task, and following him as he follows his prey through NYC’s many boroughs and haunts definitely builds the suspense to a palpable degree and these elements make the film seem longer than 77 minutes (in a good way).

However, the film is much more than just another gangster flick. It is also a post-Breathless noir in which an American director reinterprets Godard’s interpretation of American genre flicks and spits it back out, as if to say “I see your bet and raise the ante.” The influence of the New Wave’s interpretation of American cinema on Blast of Silence runs throughout the film, including the sometimes frenetic editing, the narration, the odd angles and cuts scattered throughout the film, and the energy of the film which feels so much fresher than the typical crime genre film.

Beyond that, the film is also a psychological peek at a misogynist mindset that is often an unspoken undercurrent of so many noir and noir-inspired films. At the very beginning of the film, we understand that Bono regrets his birth and has lived in solitary suffering for his whole life. The addition of the sounds of childbirth to the opening invoke Bono’s mother and his hatred of life can be brought back to her. Comments that Bono makes during his perpetual narration, including how he never remembers women’s names and how he bitterly states that his prey has “lips like a woman’s”, and his capricious treatment of his old pal’s sister point to a deeply misogynist outlook, both in the character and in the genre itself.

Most of the spoken word in the film comes from Bono’s incessant narration, one of the most unique aspects of the film. He explains his working methods, constantly keeps himself alert (“Danger signals!”, he admonishes himself with whenever he notices something amiss), talks himself through stress, and offers a Taxi Driver-esque monologue on the state of existence, his own and of those around him. The fact that his pathology is so hateful and alienated from the scenes around him (which are ironically full of Christmas cheer for much of the film) submerges the viewer into a heightened state of agitation and foreboding expectation.

Lastly, I want to comment on the performance of Larry Tucker, who plays Fat Ralph, the creepy and oddly sinister gun dealer and low-level hoodlum whom Bono must deal with against his wishes. Before we see Ralph, Bono’s narration explains that he doesn’t want to deal with him because it means making another contact in NYC and because the thought of Ralph “turns my stomach.” When the viewer is introduced to Ralph, we instantly see why as the big man speaks in an eerie, deliberate, high-pitched but low-volume slither. Ralph seems desperate for human companionship and spends most of his time with his pet rats, but a strong sense of malice, greed, and down-right creepiness permeates Ralph’s every word and movement. Tucker’s performance as Ralph, though limited to just a couple of scenes, is a definite highlight of the film.

It’s appropriate that Barron’s Blast of Silence has often been compared to Shadows by John Cassavettes. Both films are examples of great, low-budget independent films shot in New York. Stylistically, Cassavettes is far more bold and interesting, but Blast of Silence does have that slightly jazzy, free-form approach. Not exactly an an oddity in tone for films that came out in the late 50’s/early 60’s.

Barron’s film stands out because it’s essentially a low budget, b-grade Noir film (certainly not a peculiarity by anyone’s standards), but because it’s an existential meditation on the loneliness of being a professional criminal, as well as the bleak psychological motivations that some criminals may have for being so. Unlike Cassavettes, Barron made a very tight film, all the scenes are essential, the plot moves along, point a to point b, and we leave the film with the epitome of conclusion as far as crime films go. The plot is mapped out very precisely, and every scene feels as if it has relevance or meaning. Even the visual sensibility seems professional, which is interesting coming from an occasional actor and former comic-book illustrator. The montage sequence in the bar in which Frankie is spying on his future target is riveting, and throughout the film we have several scenes like this one portraying Frankie’s crippling social anxiety and misanthropy. For the most part, exterior scenes seem to do Barron’s visuals the most justice, as some of the interior ones lack adequate lighting, even for a noir film.

Unfortunately, as is the case with many low-budget debuts, Blast of Silence suffers from a few strange production and casting choices. Lionel Stander’s second person, voice-over narration seems to be a point of concern for many critics. It’s no surprise that this mode of narration isn’t commonly used; it’s at times awkward, too informative, and deprives the spectator of the role of character interpretation. If it were more restrained it might work, but the essence of a second person narration is internalized thought, in other words, if it’s going to be used, then it has to be constant and unremitting. Stander does a good job, but his narration coupled with Barron’s occasionally appropriate, albeit on the whole, heavy-handed misanthropy is a little much. Apparently, Peter Falk was originally cast for Frankie’s role, but instead chose a role in Burt Balaban’s Murder, Inc. Barron plays a good enough reticent personality, but when his character loses control, so does his acting.

Minor flaws aside, Blast of Silence is still an innovative film for its time. And its subsequent influence on New Wave films, possibly even on Jean-Pierre Melville should not remain uncredited.

A hired killer takes us for a stroll through Manhattan’s wet pavement, along with his misanthropic thoughts, and especially directed feelings of utter disgust and hatred for his new target; like he was some kind of a grown up Holden Caulfield.

The film, like everybody points out, lacks storytelling expertise. The voice over narration is unnecesary and takes away the emotional impact the images for themselves could have had. Perhaps this only inconvenience is what keeps it away from being a contender when compared to others.

But having stark realism and nihilism all over it, makes Allen Baron’s obscure opera prima what film noir is all about, the complex character study of a man trapped on a hellish existence.