The Notorious Landlady Wastes a Sterling Cast

Kim Novak as the title character.

With such a prestigious pedigree, I expected more from The Notorious Landlady (1962). Here's a British comedy headlined by Kim Novak, Jack Lemmon, and Fred Astaire with a screenplay penned by the writers who were responsible for The Pink Panther movies (Blake Edwards) and the M*A*S*H TV series (Larry Gelbert). We're talking about some talented people! But, making movies is a joint endeavor in which all the pieces need to be carefully shaped to fit together--and that doesn't happen in The Notorious Landlady.

Lemmon plays Bill Gridley, a U.S. diplomat recently assigned to London and in need of an apartment close to the embassy. He thinks he has found the ideal location, but the flat's housekeeper (Kim Novak) works very hard to dissuade him from taking it. She turns out to be the owner, who was posing as a housekeeper solely to screen potential renters.

Jack Lemmon looks worrried.

Gridley insists on moving in partially because of the proximity to the embassy, but mostly because he is smitten with his new landlady. It's not until later that he learns she is suspected of murdering her husband--whose body has never been found. Believing her incapable of such a crime, Bill sets out to prove her innocence.

It's shaky plot for a movie that runs a full two hours. However, the film's biggest problem is it doesn't know whether it is a sophisticated comedy, a light mystery, or a farce. At times, it could fit into any of those categories. The climax, which involves Lemmon chasing an wheelchair-bound woman shoved down a rocky path, is a manic, farcical scene (obviously written by Edwards). It doesn't belong in the same movie with sweet, flirtatious scenes between Lemmon and Novak.

Fred looks concerned!

The actors try their best, though we've seen Lemmon and Novak in these kinds of roles before. Fred Astaire comes off best as Lemmon's boss, who is deeply troubled about his employee's involvement with a potential murderess--until he meets her and also succumbs to her charms.

Sadly, Astaire wouldn't appear in another movie for six years until he was convinced to appear in Finian's Rainbow (although he appeared several times on television in the mid-1960s). Jack Lemmon and Kim Novak remained in demand, though Lemmon had a much longer silver screen career ahead of him. Larry Gelbert and Blake Edwards survived The Notorious Landlady to experience their biggest career successes.

The Notorious Landlady isn't a dreadful film, but neither is it a good one. And it should have been a great movie with all the talent that was involved!


Here's a clip, courtesy of the Cafe's YouTube channel, in which Jack and Kim flirt over dinner. The stranger who wants to talk with Kim in the fog is played by Henry Daniell, who played some great villains earlier in his career.

The Blake Edwards Treatment

James Coburn--looking hip as always.

What can you say about a movie in which a director sued to have his name removed from the credits? Suffice to say that director Blake Edwards was mighty displeased with the version of The Carey Treatment (1972) that was released to theaters. However, before we discuss what happened behind the scenes, let's take a look at the finished product.

Jennifer O'Neill.

The Carey Treatment stars James Coburn as Dr. Peter Carey, a hip pathologist that accepts a job at a Boston hospital because he'll "make more bread" ($45,000 to be precise or $258,600 in today's economy). Carey never actually performs his hospital duties. Instead, he has an older colleague cover for him as he investigates a potential murder and makes out with an attractive dietitian named Georgia (Jennifer O'Neill in an awful performance).

The murder victim is 15-year-old Karen Randall, the hospital administrator's daughter, who died from what appeared to be a botched abortion. The police arrest Carey's friend Dr. David Tao, who admits to performing illegal abortions but not performing one on Karen. Carey clashes with everyone, including his boss and the police, as he aggressively seeks out what really happened to the dead teenager.

The Carey Treatment was based on the 1968 novel A Case of Need, written by Michael Crichton under a pseudonym while he was a medical student. The film version, though, likely owes more to private eye films such as Harper (1966) and Marlowe (1969). Frankly, it's hard to imagine that Peter Carey is actually an M.D. In one scene, he tries to get Karen's roommate to dish on the murder victim by driving recklessly with the girl in the passenger seat (e.g., he even drives over a drawbridge while the spans are separating!).

James Coburn tries to salvage The Carey Treatment by the sheer force of his personality, glittering smile, and ultra-cool silver hair. However, he is undone by more plot holes than your average slice of Swiss cheese. Why does Karen or her mother implicate Dr. Tao? If Georgia has custody of her young son, why does she seem to spend all her nights with Carey? Someone hires a photographer to take a photo of Carey and Georgia making love, but for what reason?

The answers to these questions may be addressed in the many scenes excised from The Carey Treatment after Blake Edwards turned in his final cut. Frankly, I suspect that Edwards might have never directed The Carey Treatment if not for the fact that his career was at a low point. After enjoying boxoffice success in the 1960s with Breakfast at Tiffany's, The Days of Wine and Roses, and The Pink Panther, Edwards started the next decade with a series of flops. The most notable was Darling Lili (1970), a vanity project for his wife Julie Andrews, that boasted a $25 million budget and earned only $5 million at the theaters.

Blake Edwards subsequently signed a deal with MGM--and then unfortunately ran afoul of budget-minded studio president James Aubrey. The executive, who famously sold Dorothy's ruby slippers because they had "no intrinsic value," tampered with Blake Edwards' Western Wild Rovers (1971) as well as The Carey Treatment. Edwards revived his career in 1975 with The Return of the Pink Panther, but he never forgot his awful MGM experiences and gained his "revenge" with the biting Hollywood satire S.O.B. (1981).

Skye Aubrey.

Interestingly, the cast of The Carey Treatment includes James Aubrey's daughter Skye in a key role. Actually, it was quite a family affair with smaller parts being played by Blake Edwards' daughter Jennifer and Mel Torme's daughter Melissa Torme-March. Look quickly and you might also see Olive Dunbar as one of the doctors. She played the lead role in the disturbing short film The Lottery, which we reviewed earlier this year.

Seven Things to Know About Ross Martin

Martin and Robert Conrad.

1. Ross Martin is best remembered, of course, for playing Secret Service agent Artemus Gordon in the Western TV series The Wild Wild West (1965-69). During the show's fourth season, he broke his leg on the set while filming the episode "The Night of the Avaricious Actuary." While he recovered, Charles Aidman and William Schallert portrayed partners to Robert Conrad's James T. West.

2. Later during the show's fourth and final season, Ross Martin suffered a heart attack. Despite his limited appearances that season, he was nominated for an Emmy for Outstanding Continued Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role in a Dramatic Series.

Martin as Artemus in disguise.

3. Since Artemus Gordon was a master of disguises, Ross Martin donned make-up to portray dozens of different "characters" in the series. In the book, A Sci-Fi Swarm and Horror Horde: Interviews with 62 Filmmakers, make-up artist Kenneth Chase recalls that Martin frequently spent two hours in the make-up chair for one disguise (and hated waiting for his scenes to be filmed).

Martin in Experiment in Terror.

4. The Wild, Wild West wasn't the first time that Ross Martin played a character who employed disguises. He portrayed a killer who impersonates a woman in Blake Edwards' Experiment in Terror (1962).

5. In Edwards' TV series Mr. Lucky (1959-60), he starred as Andamo, the charismatic "business associate" to the title gambler played by John Vivyan. Indeed, Ross was a Blake Edwards' favorite; he also appeared in The Great Race as Baron Rolfe Von Stuppe. One of Martin's fellow actors in that film was Peter Falk; they later played adversaries in "Suitable for Framing," the best episode in the the first season of Columbo.

Martin as Charlie Chan.

6. Interestingly, Martin starred as the title character in the made-for-TV movie The Return of Charlie Chan (aka Happiness Is a Warm Clue). The pilot for a TV series, it was an ill-fated project from the start. Made in 1973, it was shelved due to complaints about a Caucasian actor playing Earl Derr Biggers' detective. (For the record, Charlie Chan was a Hawaiian detective and was played most famously by Swedish actor Warner Oland). Martin's Chan movie was eventually broadcast in 1978.

7. Ross Martin suffered a fatal heart attack after a game of tennis in 1981. He was 61. He and Robert Conrad had recently starred in two Wild Wild West "reunion movies": The Wild Wild West Revisited (1979) and More Wild Wild West (1980). According to some sources, there was discussion about reviving the TV series, but that ended with Martin's untimely death.

CMBA Comedy Classics Blogathon: A Shot in the Dark

It's ironic that A Shot in the Dark, the second Panther Panther film, turned out to be the one that established the formula for the film series. It was based on the French stage play, L'Idiote, which didn't even feature Inspector Clouseau. The play was adapted for Broadway in 1961 as A Shot in the Dark and starred Walter Matthau and Julie Harris. After Peter Sellers agreed to play the lead in a 1964 film version, the actor had second thoughts. He asked Pink Panther director Blake Edwards to take over the film.

Initially, Edwards declined, but finally relented on the condition that it be revamped as a Clouseau vehicle. Sellers enthusiastically agreed and convinced the film's backers. Edwards and William Peter Blatty (who would later write The Exorcist) completely rewrote what Edwards could come to call "the unintentional Clouseau" film.

Clouseau: "You've been cutting flowers."

As with all of The Pink Panther movies, the plot is just a framework for the gags. When a murder occurs at a millionaire's country estate (where everyone seems to be having an affair), Clouseau is sent to investigate. The obvious suspect is the maid Maria (Elke Sommer), who is found in possession of the murder weapon. However, Clouseau becomes smitten with her on first sight and becomes determined to prove her innocence.

Herbert Lom with eye twitch.

A Shot in the Dark introduces several elements that would define the Pink Panther formula. Herbert Lom makes his first appearance as Commissioner Dreyfus, who is slowly driven (literally) insane by Clouseau's incompetency. Burt Kwouk makes his debut as Clouseau's valet Kato, who attacks his boss at the most inconvenient times to "strengthen Clouseau's reflexes" (or so the French detective says). A Shot in the Dark also marks the first appearance of the running gag of a killer failing to assassinate Clouseau (often at the expense of innocent bystanders). This is even the film in which Sellers perfected Clouseau's unique mangling of the English language (in a French accent). In the documentary, The Pink Panther Story, Blake Edwards recounts a weekend in which Sellers inexplicably disappeared during the production. When he returned, Sellers told Edwards that he'd met a concierge whose voice was perfect for Clouseau.

Although there are classic comedic routines in other Pink Panther films, A Shot in the Dark features three of my favorites. The first occurs when Clouseau tracks Maria to a resort that turns out to be a nudist camp. The sight of Clouseau navigating among the camp members--with a guitar hanging strategically in front of him--is brilliant visual comedy. Equally amusing in a more subtle way is the running gag of Clouseau being arrested and carted away to jail for selling balloons without a licence, hunting without a license, painting on a sidewalk without a license, and--of course--indecent exposure while fleeing from the nudist camp. Of course, Sellers isn't responsible for all the best scenes. Herbert Lom's eye ticks and muffled manic laughs are funny on their own, but the part where an irritated Dreyfus accidentally cuts off one of his fingers is a classic.

Kato stops to answer the phone
during martial arts practice.

Yet, while Lom and Kwouk are fine supporting players, A Shot in the Dark--like all Pink Panther films--belongs to Sellers. He can generate laughs simply from walking into closets, destroying a rack of billiard cues, spinning a globe, or mispronouncing a word. Paired with a director like Edwards, who understood the dynamics of physical comedy, it's no wonder that the Pink Panther movies became immensely successful.

What is amazing is that additional Pink Panther films were made at all after A Shot in the Dark. Despite their successful partnership, Sellers and Edwards frequently clashed when working together. In fact, they swore they'd never work together again after A Shot in the Dark. Yet, four years later, they made The Party, a fairly funny film with Sellers as a small-time Indian actor mistakenly invited to a posh Hollywood party.

Clouseau in disguise!

Ironically, that same year saw the release of Inspector Clouseau, which starred Alan Arkin and was directed by Bud Yorkin. It proved that audiences weren't interested in a Clouseau movie without Sellers--though it still left the door open for future Pink Panther films. Seven years later, Edwards and Sellers rebooted the franchise with The Return of the Pink Panther (1975). Its worldwide success surprised everyone--save Edwards and Sellers--and set the stage for two direct sequels and a slew of spinoff and remakes.
None of them can match A Shot in the Dark for laughs per minute and originality. In 2000, when the American Film Institute saluted great screen comedies, it ranked A Shot in the Dark at #48 among the all-time comedy classics. I might have ranked it even higher.

Peter Gunn: Dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum, dum-dum....

Craig Stevens as Peter Gunn.

When the Cafe conducted an online poll in November 2009 to determine the Top 25 TV Themes of All Time, the No. 1 spot went to Peter Gunn. It's no wonder--Henry Mancini's signature tune is not only instantly recognizable from its opening notes, but Mancini's music was integral to the success of the Peter Gunn TV series.

Debuting on NBC in 1958, the half-hour Peter Gunn series centered on a suave, cynical private eye who worked in a crime-infested, fictional city. Though he rarely looked ruffled, Gunn wasn't afraid to use his fists or revolver. In the episode "The Kill," Gunn threatens to murder a thug (Jack Weston) if a friend dies--and it's clear from the detective's steely voice that he's willing to carry through on his threat. When not investigating cases, Gunn frequented Mother's, a nightclub operated by an elderly woman called (what else?) Mother and featuring his girlfriend Edie as the in-house chanteuse. While Gunn didn't have a partner, he often received unsolicited--but timely--assistance from homicide detective Lieutenant Jacoby (Herschel Bernardi).

Stevens and Lola Albright.

Photographed in a film noir style and with voiceover narration, Peter Gunn comes across as a small-screen version of tough private eye films such as Murder, My Sweet. It also borrows heavily from the earlier series Richard Diamond, Private Eye (with Dick Powell playing the lead on radio and David Janssen on television). That's no surprise, since Diamond and Gunn were both created by writer-director Blake Edwards. Although Peter Gunn looks great, moves quickly, and features snappy dialogue (sometime penned by Edwards), it ultimately adds little to the private eye genre--except for the music.

Henry Mancini was still a relative unknown in 1959. He had played piano with Glenn Miller's Orchestra and done uncredited work on numerous films, such as The Creature from the Black Lagoon. He and Edwards had also worked together on the movies Mister Cory (1957) and This Happy Feeling (1958). When Edwards turned to Mancini to create a jazz score for Peter Gunn, magic happened. "The Peter Gunn Theme," with its driving beat and blaring horns, was an instant classic. Mancini won an Emmy and two Grammy awards. The soundtrack album, Music from Peter Gunn, was such a big hit that a follow-up, More Music from Peter Gunn, was released. The theme has been covered by artists as diverse as The Art of Noise, Herbie Hancock, the Blues Brothers, and even Jeff Beck.

While its music earned acclaim, the Peter Gunn series only cracked the Nielsen top 20 shows once, peaking at #16 for the 1958-59 season. It was probably always a niche show, lacking the mainstream appeal of more popular crime shows like 77 Sunset Strip. Its limited success may also be due to star Craig Stevens, who certainly projects "cool" but comes across as detached and, frankly, not very interesting. The sultry Lola Albright fares only slightly better as Edie, but that's because her character comes across as desperate--mooning over the emotionally-detached Pete. The most likable character is Mother, played by Hope Emerson (who died in 1960) and then Minerva Urecal.

When NBC dropped Peter Gunn after its second season, Blake Edwards took the series to ABC for a third and final season. He never gave up on the character, though. By 1967, Edwards had enough clout to mount a theatrical version called Gunn, co-written by William Peter Blatty (The Exorcist). Craig Stevens returned as Peter Gunn, but the rest of  the TV series' cast was replaced. Alas, with action heroes like James Bond dominating the box office, audiences weren't interested to see a movie about a TV private eye and the film faded quickly.

Edwards revived the character again in a 1989 made-for-television movie with Peter Strauss as the urbane private eye. It received respectable reviews, but didn't generate enough interest to warrant a revival TV series. Since then, there have been a couple of attempts to produce another Peter Gunn theatrical film, but none has materialized.

What remains is a pretty good TV series with a deliciously moody atmosphere...and that incredible Mancini theme. It's a testament to the music that you'll find people who recognize it by sound, without even knowing that it came from a private eye TV show called Peter Gunn.