Marlon Brando Directs!

Brando: Director and star.

Movie buffs and Western fans should to check out One-Eyed Jacks (1961), Marlon Brando’s flawed, overlong—but always interesting—sole directorial effort. Brando allegedly took over the reins after getting Stanley Kubrick fired as director. It was a rocky production, according to most sources, with an ever-changing screenplay (Rod Serling and Sam Peckinpah worked on early drafts). There’s an even a story that Brando had the cast and crew vote on how to end it. When Brando completed the film, Paramount was dissatisfied with the result and recut it.  Brando never directed again.

The plot is a familiar one. After robbing a bank in Mexico, outlaw partners Rio (Brando) and Dad (Karl Malden) are surrounded by a posse. Dad goes for help, but decides along the way that his best chance for survival is to abandon his friend. Rio gets captured and spends five years in a Mexican prison. When he escapes, he heads to Monterey to rob a bank and kill Dad—who has reformed, become the town sheriff, and settled down with a wife and stepdaughter.

To compensate for the familiar revenge plot, Brando focuses on the unique setting and the characters’ relationships. I can’t think of another “conventional” Western with a coastal setting. Charles Lang, Jr.’s exquisite photography (he earned an Oscar nomination) captures the beauty of the surrounding (even Dad’s house is located on the beach). 

The waves crashing on the shore also serve as a metaphor for the inner turmoil of the characters. Rio plays a cruel deception on Dad’s stepdaughter Louisa, but feels remorse immediately afterwards. Dad’s fear of Rio is mixed with guilt over double-crossing his friend. Louisa’s mother lies to Dad to protect her daughter, even at the expense of losing her husband’s trust.

The ending plays like a hastily-constructed one (which it probably was). But the poetic beauty of the closing scene on the beach reminds one that even when it’s being conventional, One-Eyed Jacks is different. That’s why it’s a movie worth seeing.

Frank Sinatra as Tony Rome Times Two!

One wonders if Frank Sinatra regretted turning down the lead role in Harper (1966), one of the '60s best detective films. That might explain his decision to star in Tony Rome, another private eye picture, the following year. Although based on a novel by Marvin Albert, Tony Rome comes across as a Harper rip-off with the locale shifted from the West Coast to Miami.

Tony Rome is a former cop who likes gambling, women, and living on a boat. In need of cash, Tony accepts a job from his former partner to return an heiress, who has passed out in a cheap hotel, to her father. The young woman (Sue Lyon) and her wealthy patriarch (Simon Oakland) each hire Tony for different reasons: She wants Rome to recover a missing diamond pin that she was wearing; her father wants the private eye to find out why his daughter has been acting strangely. 

By the time Tony figures what's going on, he's been beaten up multiple times, accused of murder, and nearly killed himself. On the plus side, he has also met a beautiful, very rich divorcee (Jill St. John)!

Gena Rowlands.

Tony Rome is a lightweight mystery with a convoluted plot that doesn't bear close scrutiny. What the screenplay lacks in depth, it makes up for in snappy dialogue ("Miami Beach--twenty miles of sand looking for a city"). An added bonus is the on-location shooting which gives Tony Rome a different look and feel from the multitude of private eye pictures set in and around L.A. 

On the negative side, Tony Rome is sexist and includes at least one racist remark. It's one thing to have a male character leer at a scantily-dressed lady; it's another thing when the camera lingers--close up--on a woman's derriere. Then, there is the 52-year-old Sinatra who has to fight off beautiful women half his age. (Of course, Frank did date the much younger Jill St. John in real life....).

Jill St. John.

Sinatra brings an affable weariness to his performance as the titular detective. The role certainly doesn't require him to bring his "A" game (as he did on other 1960s films like The Manchurian Candidate and Von Ryan's Express). He and leading lady Jill St. John have a nice chemistry (no surprise there...see above); it's too bad that her character has little to do with the plot. 

Gena Rowlands stands out among the supporting cast, but she's barely in the movie. In fact, none of the female characters get much screen time and that includes Sue Lyon and an unbilled Deanna Lund  (according to Tom Lisanti's Fantasy Femmes of Sixties Cinema, the future Land of the Giants TV star was embarrassed with her performance and asked to have her name removed from the credits.)

Despite just middling box office success, Frank Sinatra returned as Tony Rome in the following year's Lady in Cement. The only other holdover from the first film was Richard Conte as Tony's police detective chum and sometime nemesis. 

The story gets underway quickly when Tony discovers the title corpse while scuba diving for sunken treasure. While the police try to identify the victim, an imposing thug named Gronsky (Dan Blocker) hires Tony to search for a missing go-go dancer named Sandra Lomax. Could she be the lady wearing cement shoes?

Dan Blocker.

While Tony Rome rates a notch about average, Lady in Cement is a perfunctory private eye picture. In the 1940s, it would have been considered a "B" film. Dan Blocker rises above his material, turning Gronsky into a likable--but still threatening--criminal. Along with Jill St. John, he appeared with Sinatra earlier in Come Blow Your Horn. It's a shame that Blocker, who found television fame on Bonanza, didn't have a a bigger movie career. He died in 1972 at age 43 due to complications following gall bladder surgery.

Raquel Welch and her tall hair.

Raquel Welch doesn't fare as well as Sinatra's leading lady. She plays a character very similar to the one portrayed by Jill St. John in Tony Rome. However, whereas St. John excelled at playing sexy, flirty socialites, Welch struggles to find a groove. Some of her scenes are downright awkward. She was much more effective in later films such as Hannie Caulder (1971) and Kansas City Bomber (1972).

Lady in Cement flopped at the box office and plans for a third Tony Rome film--to be titled My Kind of Love--were scuttled. If you plan to watch either film,  I do need to warn you about the music scores: Tony Rome kicks off with an atrocious theme song suny by Nancy Sinatra whereas Lady in Cement boasts one of the 1960s worst soundtracks courtesy of Hugo Montenegro.

The Eiger Sanction Is a Tough Climb

The Eiger Sanction (1975). This action thriller, directed by and starring Clint Eastwood, follows a former assassin who is coerced into one last mission. There is some talk about recovering a germ warfare formula, but the mission is really about revenge. Two bad agents kill one of ours, so a shadowy U.S. agency wants them sanctioned--which is apparently code for eliminated. Eastwood's ex-killer now teaches art at a college (!) and wants nothing to do with this tit-for-tat until he's told the identity of the deceased agent.

Jack Cassidy as a villain.

Based on a novel by Rodney William Whitaker, The Eiger Sanction can't overcome a poorly-written screenplay and an opening half-hour of mostly filler material. The plot finally perks up when Eastwood's out-of-shape assassin starts training to climb the Eiger mountain in Switzerland in preparation for his mission. These scenes benefit from the casting of George Kennedy and Jack Cassidy in familiar roles (Kennedy as Eastwood's old pal and Cassidy as a slimy villain). Both actors were frequently stuck in these kinds of roles, but still--somehow--managed to deliver entertaining performances.

Vonetta McGee--wasted as Clint's gf.

Clint plays a softer variation of Dirty Harry, though he's more interested in the opposite sex. Indeed, the film's portrayal of women and the sexist attitudes toward them may be a little jarring for modern audiences. Part of that can be attributed to the decade when The Eiger Sanction was made--though there were strong female characters in Black action films like Cleopatra Jones and Coffy. To his credit, Eastwood starred in The Enforcer the following year with Tyne Daly as Dirty Harry's gritty partner.

There are thrilling scenes in the final third of The Eiger Sanction, as Eastwood's assassin scales the title peak while trying to figure out who to kill. However, the climax is such a letdown that I didn't realize it was the climax until John William's closing music started to play. (Incidentally, the dreadful score proves that the great John Williams was only human after all.)

Overall, The Eiger Sanction ranks as one of Eastwood's least interesting 1970s films. It's recommended for Clint completists only.

The Conversation and Repeat Performance

Gene Hackman.

The Conversation (1974). Francis Ford Coppola directed this overlong, but engrossing look into the life of an intensely private surveillance expert (Gene Hackman) whose recording of a seemingly innocent conversation has tragic results. Hackman’s character strives to distance himself from his subjects (“I don’t care what they’re talking about.—all I want is a nice fat recording.”). But his latest assignment conjures up painful memories of a previous job where one of his recordings led to murder. Hackman perfectly captures the loneliness and paranoia of a man who intrudes on others’ privacy, while zealously guarding his own. The best scene: Hackman and surveillance rival Allen Garfield try to one up each other during a party with other experts in their field. A young Harrison Ford plays a menacing business executive and Cindy Williams (Shirley in in the 1970s hit sitcom “Laverne and Shirley”) plays one of the subjects in the title conversation. Hackman, Coppola, and the film all earned Oscar nominations; Coppola lost to himself (he won for The Godfather Part II). Hackman played a similar surveillance expert in 1998’s Will Smith thriller Enemy of the State.

Joan Leslie.

Repeat Performance (1948). I first saw Repeat Performance over the Christmas holidays when I was in high school. The timing was impeccable since the film’s opening takes place on New Year’s Eve. I suspect I watched it because the supporting cast included Richard Basehart (star of my first favorite TV series “Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea”) and Tom Conway (from The Falcon detective films). In any event, I found myself watching what amounted to an extended episode of “The Twilight Zone”—and, this case, that's a high compliment. Joan Leslie plays Sheila Page, a popular stage actress who kills her playwright husband at December 31st. Distraught over what she has done, Sheila goes to see her emotionally fragile friend, poet William Williams (Basehart). Sheila tells William that she wishes for a second chance—if she could live the year again, she would do things differently. When the clock strikes midnight, the year begins over again. Yet, no matter what Sheila does, fate intervenes and she seems powerless to alter the ultimate course of destiny. Released by budget-minded Eagle Lion, Repeat Performance was regarded as a minor “B” film when first released. It has gained a little fame over the years, having been remade as the 1989 made-for-TV movie Turn Back the Clock with Connie Selleca (and featuring Joan Leslie in a cameo). In the late 1990s, it began to pop up at film noir conventions, sometimes with Leslie in attendance. Incidentally, the supporting also features a young Natalie Schafer—Mrs. Howell from “Gilligan’s Island.”

Roadgames: A Little Bit of Rear Window, a Dash of Duel

Quid (Stacy Keach) with his harmonica.

Directed by Hitchcock admirer Richard Franklin, Roadgames (1981) follows truck driver Patrick Quid (Stacy Keach) as he traverses the desolate highways of rural Australia after witnessing what may have been the aftermath of a murder. You see, there's a serial killer on the loose and Quid suspects it's the mysterious man driving a green van.

Released when slasher films like Halloween (1978) and Friday the 13th (1980) were in vogue, Roadgames is an oddity. It sounds like a slasher film, but--as its PG rating suggests--it's more of a throwback to suspense films like The Hitch-Hiker (1953). 

Thematically, Roadgames mirrors Hitchcock's Rear Window with its exploration of voyeurism and the paranoia that comes with it. Just as James Stewart’s character in Rear Window is confined to his apartment, Keach’s Quid is largely confined to his truck, observing the world through his windshield. The film also echoes Steven Spielberg's Duel (1971) with its intense, road-bound cat-and-mouse game, where the vast, empty landscapes heighten the sense of isolation and danger.

Stacy Keach delivers a standout performance as Quid, a trucker with a penchant for poetry and a sharp wit. His character’s quirky charm and intelligence add depth to the film, making him a compelling protagonist. On the other hand, Jamie Lee Curtis has limited screen time and is mired in an underwritten role as a hitch-hiker (again...she also played one in The Fog).* Aussie actress Marion Edward fares better as a stranded wife picked by Quid--and who fears that he may be the killer.

Shades of Hitchock's Rear Window.

Director Franklin makes exceptional use of the rural Australian settings, capturing the stark beauty and eerie emptiness of the outback. This backdrop heightens the film’s tension and sense of isolation, making one wonder why Franklin chose to stage the climax in an urban setting. It's a clunky ending altogether that negates some of the goodwill that Roadgames has established along the way.

Thus, if you watch Roadgames, watch it for the ride. In that context, it delivers modest thrills and a likable quirkiness. The best example of both is a scene in which Quid believes he has the killer trapped in a bathroom stall--and isn't quite sure what to do.

Though it was not a box office success in the U.S., Roadgames attracted enough attention to get Richard Franklin a plum directing assignment. His next movie, Psycho II (1983), was a belated sequel to one of his idol's most famous films.

* Richard Franklin has stated that Actors Equity of Sydney was displeased that an American actress was cast in the role, instead of an Australian performer. Avco Embassy, who provided some of the film's financing, insisted on a "name star" that American audiences would recognize. That led to the casting of Jamie Lee Curtis, who had previously starred in Halloween and The Fog.

Dick Powell Transforms His Career with Murder, My Sweet

Dick Powell as Marlowe.

My favorite fictional detectives are the erudite, snobbish Philo Vance and the sarcastic, sly Philip Marlowe. Both have been the subject of numerous films, but with middling results. Marlowe has been played by an unusual assortment of actors that includes Humphrey Bogart, Robert Montgomery, George Montgomery, James Garner, Elliott Gould, Robert Mitchum, and Liam Neeson. Bogart captured Marlowe’s toughness. Garner projected the right amount of sarcasm. Mitchum exhibited the requisite amount of world-weariness. But none of them could compare to the cinema’s first Philip Marlowe, as portrayed by Dick Powell in Edward Dmytryk’s smashing film noir Murder, My Sweet.

Powell's performance is all the more impressive when one considers his previous films were lighthearted musicals. Indeed, Powell’s early success as a crooner stifled his acting career. (By the way, he had a pleasant voice; my Mom had several of his records.)  But Powell’s career star status was dimming when RKO signed him to a contract. He still had enough clout to pick his own films and his first RKO effort was Murder,  My Sweet. It was based on the second Marlowe novel Farewell, My Lovely—which was my father's favorite book in the series (my second fave to The Lady in Lake).

Like all of Raymond Chandler’s novels, the colorful characters and seedy, neon-lit atmosphere of 1940s Los Angeles overpower the complex plotting which intertwines two mysteries. In the first, a big homicidal lug named Moose Malloy hires Marlowe to find Velma, his former girlfriend. He hasn’t seen her for eight years and it’s been six since she wrote. Of course, Moose spent most of that time in prison--but he still pines for his sweet, little Velma and desperately wants to be with her.

Marlowe’s second case seems even more straightforward. A well-dressed ne’er-do-well named Lindsay Marriott wants Marlowe to accompany him on a midnight rendezvous to buy back a lady friend’s stolen jade necklace. Unfortunately, the plan goes awry when Marlowe is knocked unconscious and awakes to find a pummeled dead body.

Dick Powell and Claire Trevor.

Powell’s dynamic performance anchors the film, but he also benefits from some classic Chandler dialogue (often spoken in voiceover as Marlowe recounts his story to the police). When Marlowe finds a dead body, he quips: “He was just snapped—the way a pretty girl would snap a stalk of celery.” Velma’s sleazy former employer is described as “a charming, middle-aged lady with a face like a bucket of mud.”

Edward Dmytryk was a promising director with a thin resume when he made Murder, My Sweet and he put his all into the film. The pacing is swift, the atmosphere is appropriately sordid, and the visuals are stylish (e.g., when Marlowe is knocked unconscious, a black pool swallows up the frame). I met Dmytryk when he gave a guest lecture at Indiana University in the late 1970s. He wouldn’t have mentioned Murder, My Sweet if I hadn’t asked a question about it. Most of his lecture centered on the years he was blacklisted  during the McCarthy era.

Murder, My Sweet holds up remarkably well as a classic film noir. It also marked a turning point in Powell’s career. He followed it with the compelling, brutal Cornered and established himself as a dramatic actor. He went on to be become a successful film director and a television pioneer when he co-founded Four Star Studios in the 1950s.

For the record, while Murder, My Sweet was the first Marlowe movie, the novel Farewell, My Lovely was adapted earlier as the "B" picture The Falcon Takes Over (1942). Philip Marlowe was nowhere in sight in this version. Instead, George Sanders starred as the debonair Gay Lawrence, who takes on Moose Malloy's case.

Mandy and A Boy Ten Feet Tall

Mandy Miller as Mandy.

Mandy (aka Crash of Silence) (1952). The lives of Christine and Harry Garland are thrown into turmoil when they discover that their young daughter, Mandy, is congenitally deaf. The parents grapple with their own misconceptions and differing views on how to best support Mandy. Should she be kept at home for private tutoring, as her grandparents suggest, or placed in a school with other deaf children? The tension between the parents, fueled by suspicions of an affair, add emotional weight to the narrative. The first-rate British cast shines all around. Phyllis Calvert and Terence Morgan capture the parents’ emotional struggles as they try to determine if their actions reflect what they want or what their daughter Mandy needs. Jack Hawkins shines as an instructor at the deaf school, whose intense focus on his students puts him at odds with an influential member of the school's board. Finally, there is the young actress Mandy Miller (who was not deaf in real life), who plays Mandy. With very limited dialogue, she expresses the young girl's loneliness, confusion, and frustration, especially when placed in the boarding school and separated from her family. (Incidentally, that's Jane Asher--Paul McCartney's one-time girlfriend--as Mandy's eventual friend at school.) Director Alexander Mackendrick, best known for his Ealing comedies and the noirish Sweet Smell of Success (1957), deserves praise for sensitively portraying Mandy’s world. Through her eyes, we witness the challenges of communication, isolation, and the desire to connect with others. (You can stream Mandy for free on the Million Dollar Movie Classics channel.)

Fergus McClelland and Edward G. Robinson.

A Boy Ten Feet Tall (aka Sammy Going South) (1963).  Another Alexander Mackendrick film with a young protagonist, A Boy Ten Feet Tall focuses on ten-year-old Sammy Hartland. After his parents are killed during the Suez Crisis in 1956, Sammy embarks on an epic journey from Egypt to South Africa. Armed with only a toy compass and the knowledge that his goal to is to travel south, Sammy sets out to find his aunt in Durban. He encounters a variety of characters along the way, including: a Syrian nomad who hopes to profit off Sammy; a well-meaning American tourist; and a kind-hearted diamond smuggler. Despite the immense challenges he faces, including the loss of his parents and the daunting task of traveling across a continent, Sammy remains determined and resourceful. His character evolves from a vulnerable child into a strong and independent young boy, showcasing his inner strength and adaptability. Newcomer Fergus McClelland makes a likable lead, but Edward G. Robinson delivers the film's standout performance as Cocky Wainwright, the diamond smuggler who temporarily becomes Sammy’s surrogate father. Robinson brings warmth and subtle compassion to the role, creating a character that is both gruff and endearing.  Director Mackendrick masterfully allows the audience to see the events through Sammy’s eyes, much as he did with the young protagonist in Mandy. This perspective ensures that the film remains focused on Sammy’s emotional journey, making it a poignant and engaging--if episodic--adventure. The mostly on-location shooting brings a raw, realistic quality to the film, highlighting the vastness and beauty of the African continent. This review is based on the 118-minute cut of A Boy Ten Feet Tall, which you can view stream for free on the Million Dollar Movie Classics channel. The original 129-minute version is believed to be lost. An 88-minute version was released to theaters in the U.S. in the 1960s.

The All-American and Yankee Pasha

Publicity still with Mamie Van Doren & Tony Curtis.

All American (1953). Tony Curtis headlines as Nick Bonelli, a star quarterback who transfers to a different university to pursue his interest in architecture after his parents die in a car crash. He faces various challenges and conflicts at his new school, both academically and romantically, and eventually decides to play football again--much to the delight of his new school. All American (aka The Winning Way) is a typical 1950s sports drama, with a predictable plot and stereotypical characters. That doesn't mean it's not an entertaining way to spend 83 minutes. It was clearly intended to provide acting experience for its young cast. Although Tony Curtis is the only one that became a big star, his fellow players include such familiar faces as Lori Nelson (Revenge of the Creature), Mamie Van Doren, Stuart Whitman, and Richard Long (who comes as close to playing an unlikable character as he ever did). Van Doren fares best as a bar waitress who is secretly involved with rich college student Long. It's nice to see her in an appealing role, as opposed to the sexpot types she later played (she also appeared with Tony Curtis in the earlier Forbidden). Sports fans may also spot cameos from real-life football stars Frank Gifford, Tom Harmon (Marks' father), and Jim Sears.

Yankee Pasha (1954). Set in New England in 1800, Yankee Pasha stars Jeff Chandler as Jason Starbuck, a fur trapper who falls in love with the beautiful Roxana (Rhonda Fleming). When Roxana sails to France to escape an unwanted marriage to another man, her ship is captured by pirates and she is sold as a slave in Morocco. Jason follows her across the ocean and infiltrates the royal palace, where he becomes a valued advisor to the sultan--all the while plotting to rescue Roxana. Based on Edison Marshall's 1947 novel, Yankee Pasha is a colorful, if modestly budgeted, adventure with a dash of humor. Chandler and Fleming are agreeable, photogenic leads who let their supporting stars deliver all the good lines. Lee J. Cobb seems to be having fun as the sultan, while Mamie Van Doren shows off her comedic skills as the only member of Starbuck's harem. The film's first two-thirds zip along nicely, but then it inexplicitly lumbers to its conclusion with a conventional, boring rescue. By then, though, Yankee Pasha has built enough goodwill so that you'll overlook its ending and remember it fondly. (You can watch Yankee Pasha for free on the Western Film Classics channel by clicking here.)

The Case for Anatomy of a Murder

Stewart as Biegler pleads his case.

Anatomy of a Murder is the best courtroom drama ever made.

Otto Preminger’s enthralling motion picture requires multiple viewings to be fully appreciated. When I first saw it, I focused on the riveting story, which treats the viewer much like the jury. We listen to testimonies, watch the lawyers try to manipulate our emotions, and struggle to make sense of the evidence. When I saw Anatomy of a Murder a second time, I knew the case’s outcome and was to able to concentrate on the splendid performances. James Stewart, Arthur O’Connell, and George C. Scott earned Oscar nominations, but the rest of the cast is also exceptionally strong. In subsequent viewings, I’ve come to appreciate the film’s well-preserved details, from the small town upper-Michigan atmosphere to Preminger’s brilliant direction (e.g., in one shot, as Scott's prosecutor cross-examines a witness in close-up, Stewart—the defending lawyer—is framed between them in the background).

Lee Remick and George C. Scott.

The opening scenes quickly establish Stewart’s shrewd lawyer. After ten years as Iron City’s public prosecutor, Paul Biegler has lost his office and gone into private practice. He’s also lost his passion for the law—he spends most of his time fishing, playing the piano, smoking Italian cigars, and reading old cases with his elderly, alcoholic friend Parnell Emmett McCarthy (O’Connell). His life takes a dramatic turn when he eventually agrees to defend Lieutenant Frederick Manion (Ben Gazzara), who is being tried for the murder of a man who may have raped Manion’s wife Laura (Lee Remick). Manion doesn’t deny killing the man, whom he shot five times. His lack of remorse, his wife Laura’s open sexuality, and the couple’s coldness toward one another tip the scales against them from the start.

Perhaps, it’s those very drawbacks that attract Biegler to the case. With a newly sober McCarthy assisting him, Biegler builds his defense around an old Michigan case in which a man was acquitted of murder because he acted out of “irresistible impulse.” As a psychiatrist (Orson Bean in a great bit part )  explains on the stand, it didn’t matter if Manion knew the difference between right and wrong. He was compelled to act (in the words of another witness, he was a “like a mailman delivering the mail”).

Saul Bass's opening credits as justly famous.

Once the drama shifts to the courtroom, an already-engrossing story seems to shift into a higher gear. The sparring between Stewart and Scott, as an ambitious assistant state attorney, is played to perfection. Remick has a splendid scene as Scott interrogates her on the witness stand. Joseph Welch provides welcome dry humor as the judge, who seems more like a referee trying to keep two fighters from killing each other. Interestingly, Welch was a former Army lawyer who participated in the McCarthy hearings; his real-life wife also appears in Anatomy as one of the jurors.

At the time of its release, Anatomy of a Murder was quite controversial, much of it stemming from the frank discussion of the crime. Preminger seemed to relish in breaking barriers on film content. His sex comedy The Moon Is Blue (1953) shocked audiences with its plot about older men (David Niven and William Holden) pursuing a young virgin. Preminger’s The Man With the Golden Arm (1955) was one of the first mainstream films about drug addiction.

Our favorite Preminger works are the film noir classic Laura (1944), Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965), and, of course, this one. You may disagree with me on whether it's the finest courtroom drama, but I'm not alone in my assessment. Back in 2021, I interviewed Michael Asimow, a professor at the Santa Clara Law School and co-author of Real to Reel: Truth and Trickery in Courtroom Movies. When I asked him what film did the best job of presenting a case realistically, he replied: "Our all-time favorite is Anatomy of a Murder. Almost all of it is a gripping murder trial, with two great lawyers going after each other, full of twists and turns and with an ambiguous ending. Watch this movie—you’ll be amazed at how good it is."

The High and the Mighty and Skyjacked

John Wayne as "Whistling" Dan Roman.

The High and the Mighty (1954). When a passenger airliner en route from Honolulu to Los Angeles experiences engine problems, the pilot faces a critical decision: Does he attempt a dangerous landing in the ocean and hope the Coast Guard can rescue the passengers? Or does he try to make it to the closest airport in San Francisco—even as the plane starts leaking fuel? Directed by former fighter pilot William A. Wellman, The High and the Mighty is considered the granddaddy of the modern disaster film. The now familiar formula augments the tense scenes with a menagerie of characters with background stories of varying interest. Their tales range from a newlywed couple facing the realities of married life to an armed husband who thinks his wife is cheating on him with another passenger. The airplane's crew has its challenges, too, with the lead pilot (Robert Stack) coping with aviation fatigue. There's even the proverbial child on the plane--though, unlike future young passengers--he seems pretty healthy! Bolstered by Dimitri Tiomkin's Oscar-winning score and John Wayne's steady, low-key performance, The High and the Mighty overcomes its weaker characters and subplots (e.g., a gun fired in-flight is quickly forgotten). The result is an engaging film that overstays its welcome at a bloated running time of almost two-and-a-half hours. Here's some interesting trivia: Tiomkin also earned an Oscar nomination for Best Song, though the lyrics are only heard briefly at the end. The tune, with different words, became a pop hit.

Yvette Mimieux and Charlton Heston.

Skyjacked (1972). The first theatrical film inspired by the 1970 blockbuster Airport was not, surprisingly, one of the three Airport sequels. Instead, it was Skyjacked, an satisfactory all-star disaster film based on a David Harper novel. The "all-stars" aren't of the same caliber as Airport, with Charlton Heston on-hand as the only big name star. Still, the best part of Skyjacked is its mix of familiar faces (Yvette Mimeux, Claude Akins, Mariette Hartley), TV stars (Susan Dey, James Brolin), and classic film icons (Walter Pidgeon, Jeanne Crain). The plot concerns a potential bomb aboard a commercial jet flying to Minneapolis. The hijacker, whose identity remains a mystery for the film's first half, wants the flight diverted to Alaska--and then on to the Soviet Union. The film might have been more fun if the hijacker's identity was a surprise, but it's obvious from the beginning. John Guillermin, who would go on to direct the disaster movie megahit The Towering Inferno (1975), keeps the pacing tight for much of the film. However, it lags toward the end, with a flashback romantic subplot involving Heston's pilot and Mimieux's flight attendant adding nothing to the story. Still, Skyjacked makes an interesting pairing with Airport 1975Airport 1975, in which Heston plays a pilot-turned-instructor that gets involved in the rescue of a jet damaged in flight.

Klute and Tender Mercies

Donald Sutherland and Jane Fonda.

Klute (1971). When a businessman suddenly disappears and obscene letters are found among his work papers, the man's wife hires private detective John Klute to conduct an investigation. Klute (Donald Sutherland) quickly learns that the mystery centers around part-time NYC prostitute Bree Daniels (Jane Fonda), the intended recipient of the letters. Bree doesn't remember the missing man, but thinks he could have been a client that beat her up years earlier--and may be stalking her now. More character study than psychological thriller, Klute earned Jane Fonda a Best Actress Oscar for her performance and garnered a nomination for its screenplay. The decision to reveal the villain's identity barely 45 minutes into the movie is an interesting one. Unlike Hitchcock's Vertigo, that knowledge doesn't generate any tension. Rather, it robs Klute of its potential as a whodunit (though the villain's identity is obvious from the beginning, so perhaps that's irrelevant). Clearly, the writers and director Alan J. Pakula are more interested in exploring what makes Bree and Klute tick. In Bree's case, they take the direct approach by including her therapy sessions with her psychiatrist. These monologues provide an acting field day for Fonda, though the character insights are strictly Psychology 101 (e.g., Bree's "tricks" make her feel like she controls her interactions with men for a brief period). As a result, the more interesting character is the quiet and always watchful John Klute. Relentless in his investigation, the introspective detective shows his patience as he develops feelings towards Bree and eventually pierces her self-defensive veneer. Sutherland gives a compelling portrayal and it's a shame that his acting was not as widely recognized as Fonda's. She is very good, but Sutherland is the reason to watch Klute--after all, the movie was named after his character. 

Duvall as Mac Sledge.

Tender Mercies (1983).  After a night of heavy drinking, Mac Sledge (Robert Duvall), a washed-up, alcoholic country singer, wakes up at an isolated Texas roadside motel and gas station. The owner, a young widow named Rosa Lee (Tess Harper), allows him work in exchange for room and board. Mac slowly rebuilds his life, creating a family with Rosa Lee and her young son Sonny and even recording music again. Like its protagonist, Tender Mercies is a quiet, slow-moving film that finds emotional resonance in its simplicity. Director Bruce Beresford lovingly captures the rustic setting with the wind whistling gently across the plains. Robert Duvall delivers a low-key, natural performance that earned him a Best Actor Oscar (the motion picture, Beresford, and screenwriter Horton Foote were nominated as well). Although it's a film about redemption, writer Foote ensures that Tender Mercies avoids easy resolutions. Mac's relationship with his ex-wife remains full of friction and his efforts to reconnect with his adult daughter are hindered by tragedy. In the end, Mac finds an inner peace of sorts, but every day will still bring its own challenges so that one has to cherish each moment of contentment.

The Crimson Kimono and The League of Gentlemen

James Shigeta as Detective Joe Kojaku.

The Crimson Kimono (1959). Writer-director Samuel Fuller's once-controversial cult film revolves around two police detectives, one Caucasian and one Japanese, who try to solve a complicated murder case involving a stripper in the Japanese quarter of Los Angeles. Along the way, both detectives fall in love with a key witness, leading to a love triangle that threatens their friendship. Fuller's on-location shooting, in and around Little Tokyo in L.A., gives The Crimson Kimono a vibrant and gritty feel. It's a perfect setting for a quirky film noir and the opening scene, in which stripper Sugar Torch is fatally shot as she runs into a busy street, promises as much. However, Fuller's primary interest lies elsewhere, leading to a plot detour into an examination of the relationship between detective Joe Kojaku (James Shigeta) and Chris, an art student (Victoria Shaw). Joe has to cope with his own cultural norms (his family expects him to marry a Japanese woman) and what he perceives as racial bias from Charlie (Glenn Corbett), his detective partner and longtime best friend. It's an interesting theme and James Shigeta effectively conveys Joe's inner struggle. Still, it's a shame that there's little left time left for the mystery. When it gets wraps up quickly at the climax, I felt that Fuller had cheated me out of a potentially brilliant film noir.

Jack Hawkins as Norman Hyde.

The League of Gentlemen (1960). Forced into retirement, Lieutenant Colonel Norman Hyde (Jack Hawkins) recruits seven former army officers, each facing desperate or humiliating circumstances, for a bank robbery. Hyde convinces the team that a large-scale crime, planned and executed with military precision by former soldiers, is a "can't miss" proposition, It also helps that he guarantees each man a payout of over £100,000 (equates to $2.9 million in 2024). Like the heist it depicts, The League of Gentlemen is a well-executed film that grabs the viewer from its opening shot: Hyde, dressed in black tie, emerges from a manhole on a London street at night. While the climatic heist is sufficiently engrossing, the film's highlight is an earlier theft of weapons from an army depot. It allows the always entertaining Roger Livesey to impersonate an army general looking into a fictitious complaint about inedible army food. In addition to Hawkins and Livesey, the fine cast includes Richard Attenborough, Nigel Patrick (delightful as the second-in-command), and Bryan Forbes (who co-wrote the screenplay with John Boland). My only quibble with The League of Gentlemen is its ending. It works well enough...it's just not what I wanted to happen (which is not a valid complaint at all).

Jeff Chandler Plays a Make-Believe Parent in The Toy Tiger

Jeff Chandler as Rick.

Had a bad day at work? Relatives causing undue stress? If so, then perhaps you need to sit down and watch a mindless 1950s comedy. You know the kind. It's entertaining enough while you're watching it, but it won't linger in your brain. It's like cotton candy--light and tasty, but not filling and quickly forgotten. If that's what you're looking for, then The Toy Tiger (1956)--a remake of the earlier Mad About Music--is the movie for you.

Laraine Day plays Gwen Harkinson, a widowed advertising executive who has shuffled her son off to a private boarding school. Gwen's plan is to work hard, make a lot of money, and then "retire" to spend time raising son Timmy (Tim Hovey). She has no time for romance, which is a bummer for Rick Todd (Jeff Chandler), an art director at the agency who loves her. Rick is fed up with advertising, but agrees to go to a small upstate New York town to convince an ex-colleague to work on a new ad campaign. He is completely unaware that the town is also the home of Timmy's boarding school: The Meadows.

Meanwhile, Timmy is dealing with a bully at school, who suspects (quite rightly) that Timmy has created an imaginary father: a world-famous explorer who sends him letters about his quests. In reality, Timmy is writing the letters and mailing them to himself. When pressured by the bully, Timmy states his father is arriving in town that day on a bus. The other boys become excited to meet Timmy's dad and go to meet the bus. When Rick gets off the bus, Timmy identifies him as his father!

Laraine Day, Tim Hovey, and Jeff Chandler
in a publicity still from The Toy Tiger.

It's a lightweight premise that functions surprisingly well for most of the movie. As expected, Rick eventually decides to go along--not realizing Timmy is Gwen's son--and play the part of Timmy's "famous" father (good thing the Internet didn't exist back then). Jeff Chandler seems to be having a good time as Timmy's make-believe dad and he and young Tim Hovey create a believable father-son relationship. It also helps to have a couple of old pros, Cecil Kellaway and Richard Haydn, playing the brothers that run the boarding school. (Both deserve more screen time!)

The Toy Tiger gets bogged down, though, when Gwen shows up. She is just not a likable character. Granted, Laraine Day and the writers faced a tough challenge: the film hinges on peeling back the layers of Gwen's business-focused persona to reveal a caring mother and a woman who wants to be in a loving relationship. Laraine Day never quite gets there. Perhaps, a more accomplished actress like Doris Day could have pulled it off. Or the writers could have opted for a more realistic ending, in which Gwen finds a way to spend more time with her son, but rejects a relationship with Rick.

Of course, that would be a different movie altogether. And we've already established that you just want to watch The Toy Tiger and enjoy it for what is. There's nothing wrong with that. You'll be pleasantly amused for 88 minutes and then you'll forget it.

Working Girl and The Verdict

Melanie Griffith and Harrison Ford.

Working Girl (1988). Mike Nichol's R-rated update of a familiar comedy formula, Working Girl earned six Oscar nominations, made a star (albeit briefly) of Melanie Griffith, and transformed Harrison Ford into a romantic lead. Griffith plays Tess McGill, a hard-working, ambitious young woman who thinks she has landed the perfect job when she becomes the personal assistant to business executive Katherine Parker (Sigourney Weaver). Katherine listens to Tess's ideas. It turns out that she also steals one of them, which Tess discovers while Katherine is in the hospital recovering from a skiing accident. Rather than confronting her boss, Tess passes herself off as one of Katherine's fellow executives. She uses her smarts to set up a big business deal, but will she be able to pull it off before Katherine discovers the charade? Kevin Wade's script offers no surprises, so Working Girl relies heavily on Griffith, Ford, and Weaver. Fortunately, they deliver whatever is required: Griffith's plucky heroine is vulnerable yet tough; Ford provides a charming romantic foil; and Weaver delivers a deliciously funny performance as the film's villain. Director Mike Nichols makes fine use of the New York City locations. However, his inclusion of three brief nude scenes (including two of Griffith) seems unwarranted in a film about female empowerment. Carly Simon's song "Let the River Run" earned Working Girl its only Oscar despite those six nominations. (Personally, I think a more deserving Carly Simon song was "Coming Around Again" from Mike Nichols' 1986 movie Heartburn.) 

Paul Newman as Frank Galvin.

The Verdict (1982). Paul Newman earned the seventh of his nine Best Actor Oscar nominations as Frank Galvin, an alcoholic, washed-up Boston lawyer. When a friend tosses a medical malpractice case his way, Galvin chooses not to settle it out of court. Instead, he ignores his clients' wishes and takes the case to trial. The reasons for his decision are unclear. Has Frank rediscovered his passion for law? Is he trying to prove to himself that he can still be a successful attorney? Is he solely concerned with justice for the comatose victim? David Mamet provides no clear answers. In his original draft of the screenplay, the verdict was never even revealed (the movie does include it). While I admire Mamet's intent, I find the The Verdict to be ambitious without being fully successful. There's a twist involving Charlotte Rampling's character that's obvious from the moment she is introduced. James Mason, a fine actor, struggles to find any nuance in his high-powered defense attorney who will do anything to win. On the plus side, Paul Newman breathes life into Galvin and convinces the audience to root for this self-pitying attorney--who may or may not have found his self-respect at the film's conclusion. I know many fans of The Verdict and I encourage them to make their case in the comments below or on Twitter (I'm @classic_film). I have made my final summation.

The V.I.P.s and The Fog

Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.

The V.I.P.s (1963).  A fogged-in London airport provides the setting—and serves as the catalyst—in playwright Terence Rattigan’s The V.I.P.s. This collage of mini-dramas shares the same structure as films such as Grand Hotel and Rattigan’s own Separate Tables. The principal characters include: an emotionally-withdrawn tycoon (Richard Burton); his ignored wife (Elizabeth Taylor), who plans to leave him; her lover (Louis Jourdan); a businessman (Rod Taylor) fighting a hostile takeover of his company; his secretary (Maggie Smith) who secretly loves him; an elderly, financially-strapped dowager (Margaret Rutherford); and a blustery filmmaker (Orson Welles), who stands to pay a hefty tax bill if he can’t leave the country by midnight. As expected, some subplots are engrossing (Rod Taylor’s dilemma), while others are filler (the plight of Welles’ filmmaker). The standout performances come from Richard Burton and Maggie Smith. Burton’s initially one-dimensional character gains depth as the film progresses, while Maggie Smith shines brightly from start to finish. A scene between Burton and Smith toward the end is a master class in acting. Dame Margaret Rutherford won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar as the befuddled dowager. She’s good, delivering a more reserved portrayal than usual. However, I would have given that award to the luminous Maggie Smith. 

Adrienne Barbeau in the lighthouse.

The Fog (1980). In his theatrical follow-up to Halloween (1978), John Carpenter opts to create a different kind of horror film with a supernatural tale set in an atmospheric Northern California coastal community. The premise is set up with a nifty recounting of a local story in which a clipper ship’s crew of six died in a crash against the rocks after mistaking a campfire for the lighthouse on a foggy night. A hundred year later, as Antonio Bay prepares to celebrate its centennial, a glowing fog engulfs the town—and brings forth the vengeful ghosts of the ship’s crew. But why are the murderous spirits seeking the lives of six town residents? The answer is somewhat interesting, but therein lies the problem with The Fog. It’s a middle-of-the-road effort that rarely lives up to its potential. The ghosts aren’t frightening, the characters lack interest, and Carpenter fails to generate adequate suspense (a surprise coming on the heels of his superbly-crafted Halloween). The cast—which includes real-life mother and daughter Janet Leigh and Jamie Lee Curtis—is game, but just doesn’t have enough quality material. One suspects Carpenter recognized these flaws as he shot additional footage after viewing the rough cut. The director certainly rebounded, with his next two movies, Escape from New York (1981) and The Thing (1982), ranking among his best.

Seven Classic Made-for-TV Movies...that you can watch for free!

In an interview in its February 2023 newsletter CMBA Today, the Classic Movie Blog Association asked me an intriguing question: "If you could program a perfect day of classic movies for TCM, what would be the seven films on your schedule?"

I tried to think of seven movies I'd like to see again as well as share with others. Assuming TCM could get the broadcast rights to these films, I’d opt for a day of classic made-for-TV movies. The 1960s and the 1970s were a “Golden era” for television films and featured stellar writers (e.g., Rod Serling, Richard Matheson, Gene Roddenberry) and good actors (e.g., Angie Dickinson, Suzanne Pleshette, Ray Milland, Myrna Loy). I’d limit my seven picks to lesser-known films that appeared on the wonderful ABC Movie of the Week (1969-75).

I've previously reviewed all but one of my movie selections on this blog. Click on a film's title to read the review. One of my Twitter friends, @CED_LD_Guy, uploaded all seven picks to his Rumble channel. Rumble is a free platform, like YouTube, that allows you to view media content online or on your TV by adding the Rumble channel to your streaming device. Click on the "watch" links below to enjoy these fascinating made-for-TV movies. Remember, these are rare films, so the video quality will vary from excellent (The Birdmen) to fair (Dr. Cook's Garden).

Milton Berle and Sean Garrison.

Seven in Darkness (1969) watch – A plane crashes in the wilderness and only its blind passengers survive. This was the first ABC Movie of the Week and stars Barry Nelson, Dina Merrill, Lesley Ann Warren, Season Garrison, and Milton Berle (in a dramatic role).

Daughter of the Mind (1969) watch – A psychic researcher (Don Murray) investigates when a famous scientist (Ray Milland) claims his dead daughter has been appearing to him. Gene Tierney and Ed Asner co-star.

Suzanne Pleshette.

Along Came a Spider (1970) watch  – Suzanne Pleshette headlines this twisty thriller about a widow who goes undercover to discover her husband's murderer(s).

How Awful About Allan (1970) watch – A man (Anthony Perkins) suffering from psychosomatic blindness returns home to live with his sister (Julie Harris), but thinks someone is trying to kill him.

Dr. Cook’s Garden (1971) watch – Is there a pattern to the deaths in a small rural town where a kindly physician (Bing Crosby) practices? Frank Converse and Blythe Danner co-star. Ira Levin (Rosemary's Baby, The Stepford Wives) and Art Wallace based their screenplay on Levin's short-lived stage play starring Burl Ives.

Richard Basehart as a German officer.

The Birdmen (1971) watch – During World War II, POW prisoners try to fly to freedom by building a glider. Incredibly, part of the film really happened! The unusual cast features Richard Basehart, Chuck Connors, Doug McClure, Tom Skerritt, and Max Baer, Jr. There's about eight minutes of stock footage at the beginning--but stick with it and you'll be rewarded with a very entertaining adventure.

Assault on the Wayne (1971) watch – Enemy agents plot sabotage aboard a nuclear submarine in this Cold War thriller. The cast features Leonard Nimoy, William Windom, Lloyd Haynes, and Sam Elliott.

Goodnight, My Love: A Made-for-TV Film Noir

The ABC Movie of the Week was unique among made-for-TV movie franchises in that its films spanned a wide variety of genres. It presented family dramas, thrillers, comedies, horror pictures, and even a kung fu movie. One of its most unusual efforts was Peter Hyams' homage to film noirs: Goodnight, My Love. Made in 1972, it's set in post-World War II Los Angeles and stars Richard Boone and Michael Dunn as a pair of gumshoes whose primary concern is the source of their next meal.Embed from Getty Images Richard Boone, Michael Dunn, and Barbara Bain.

Business starts looking up for Francis Hogan (Boone) and Arthur Boyle (Dunn) when the slinky Susan Lakely (Barbara Bain) saunters into their low-rent office. She wants the two private eyes to find her boyfriend, whom she claims has been missing for several days. Hogan is unenthusiastic about the case, but Boyle is hungry so they take the job.

Somehow, the boyfriend's disappearance is linked to a missing briefcase and a shady nightclub owner named Julius Limeway (Victor Buono). Limeway's henchman, Lakely's lies, and a couple of corpses muddle the clues as Hogan and Doyle try to uncover the truth--and get a decent dinner.

Richard Boone, who flashed plenty of charisma as Paladin in Have Gun--Will Travel, is surprisingly low-key as possibly the grumpiest detective in the history of cinema. It works, though, thanks to his castmates who elevate their game. Michael Dunn shines as Boone's witty sidekick, delivering his quips with style--even when he's not on camera. In one scene, when Susan expresses concern about Hogan's safety, the detective reassures her: "I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." Offscreen, Dunn's sidekick adds: "I'm not so big."

Barbara Bain, who looks fabulous in the 1940s fashions, plays her femme fatale with a knowing wink, but never crosses the line into parody. The same applies to Victor Buono, who is ideally cast as the white suit-wearing villain who would have been played by Sidney Greenstreet once upon a time. Embed from Getty Images

I had the opportunity to interview Barbara Bain in 2019. When I asked her about Goodnight, My Love, she told me:

"I just loved doing that movie with Richard Boone and Michael Dunn. It was interesting to play this woman about whom we find out all kinds of things by the end. She's all 'poor me' in the beginning and not so 'poor me' by the end of it. I received extraordinary compliments about my performance. I spent some time with (director) Peter Hyams in the last year or two and we recalled making the film. Lee Strasberg (the famous acting teacher) said I was just wonderful. I can't even say it. I can't quote somebody else talking about me without being a little embarrassed. But after all these years, it was very nice to hear that from one's master teacher." Embed from Getty Images

For many years, it was hard to find a quality print of Goodnight, My Love. Fortunately, one of my Twitter friends (@CED_LD_Guy) has made it available on Rumble (a free streaming platform like YouTube). Click here to watch it.

Goodnight, My Love may not rank with the best of film noir, but it's an entertaining, well-made homage. It's also a great example of the kind of creative filmmaking that made the ABC Movie of the Week appointment television for those of us who grew it up in the late 1960s and 1970s.