Love Is a Ball and A Big Hand for the Little Lady

Love Is a Ball (1963).  I thought I had seen every 1960s romantic comedy until the blandly-titled Love Is a Ball popped up on the cable channel Screenpix. It stars Charles Boyer as Etienne Pimm, a matchmaker who is part Pygmalion and part con artist. He specializes in pairing titled, but financially poor, European aristocrats with wealthy potential spouses. The catch is that the latter have no idea that they're the "target" of a matchmaking scheme. Pimm's latest client is Duke Gaspard Ducluzeau (Ricardo Montalbán), who not only lacks wealth...he also lacks sophistication. To address Gaspard's deficiencies, Pim hires three men to teach Gaspard how to speak properly, how to drive fast cars and play polo, and how to eat fine food. Problems arise, though, when heiress Millie Mehaffey (Hope Lange) becomes attracted to one of Gaspard's teachers, former race car driver John Davis (Glenn Ford). The first half of Love Is a Ball moves along at a merry pace--and who knew that Ricardo Montalbán could be so funny? Inevitably, the focus shifts to the romance between Millie and John, who are the film's least interesting characters (and seem like a poor match to boot). Shot mostly on-location on the French Riveria, Love Is a Ball is a mildly pleasant romcom that overstays its welcome and mostly wastes the fine performances of Boyer, Montalbán, and Telly Savalas. Director and co-writer David Swift fared better at Disney where he made Pollyanna (1960) and The Parent Trap (1961). In Paul Mayersberg's book Hollywood, the Haunted House, Swift stated that Glenn Ford "approaches his craft like a twelve-year-old temperamental child." Needless to say, they never worked together again.

A Big Hand for the Little Lady (1966).  Well, this is one of those movies that you can discuss with a "spoiler alert" warning. Or, one can tread very carefully when describing the plot. I will opt for the latter in discussing this deceiving Western about an annual high-stakes poker game involving the five richest men in Laredo. Even though the whole town knows about the big event, no one else is allowed to participate, watch it, or even stay informed about the current standings. That changes when a farming family passes through town and is forced to spend the night after a wagon wheel breaks. Meredith, the family patriarch, is a recovering gambling addict with a hefty bankroll--to be used on a purchasing a farm. However, he succeeds in getting a seat at the poker table and proceeds to bet his family's nest egg on what he claims is to a sure-fire winning hand. There is a lot of gamesmanship going on in Big Hand for the Little Lady and your enjoyment of the movie will hinge on your acceptance of the ending. I was pleasantly surprised on my first viewing many years ago, but the plot struggled to hold my interest in subsequent viewings. The cast almost overpowers the premise with solid work from Joanne Woodward, Henry Fonda, Jason Robards, Kevin McCarthy, and a slew of familiar faces. (I recognized the young actor that plays Meredith's son from Samuel Fuller's fascinating The Naked Kiss.) Director Fielder Cook and screenwriter Sidney Carroll based on A Big Hand for the Little Lady on "Big Deal in Laredo," a 1962 episode of the one-hour TV series anthology The DuPont Show of the Week. It starred Walter Matthau and Teresa Wright in the Fonda and Woodward roles. I haven't seen it, but wonder if the shorter running time might have strengthened the premise.

Cult Movie Theatre: They Might Be Giants

George C. Scott as Holmes, sort of.

When Blevins Playfair receives a blackmail note demanding $20,000, he decides to commit his wealthy brother Justin to a psychiatric institution. It solves two problems: Blevins can gain power of attorney and access to his brother's fortune and Justin (George C. Scott) is delusional--he believes he's Sherlock Holmes.

Justin makes an impressive Holmes, not only looking the part but acting it, right down to some impressive displays of deductive reasoning. Thus, psychiatrist Mildred Watson (Joanne Woodward) insists on a thorough evaluation before signing off on the institution's paperwork. For his part, Justin/Holmes has no time to dally with a psychiatrist--after all, he's chasing his arch-nemesis, Professor Moriarty. But then, he realizes that Mildred is Dr. Watson and it's obvious that she must become his partner and chronicle his exploits. Mildred quickly gets caught up in Justin's fantasy world and, before long, the game is afoot as the detecting duo scour New York City for clues to Moriarty's location.

Joanne Woodward as Dr. Watson.

Based on James Goldman's stage play, They Might Be Giants is an entertaining lark for most of its running time. It's also a showcase for the mesmerizing Scott, who effortlessly transitions back and forth from the confused Justin to the supremely confident Holmes. In the film's most touching scene, a tired Holmes reads the biography of Justin Playfair, a once influential judge who retired from the bench and lost his wife the previous year (thus explaining why Justin became Holmes).

One could argue that Joanne Woodward has the more difficult part. She must convince the audience that lonely, intelligent Mildred Watson could get swept up in Justin's delusional mystery. Even if parts of the mystery display a weird logic, her actions and sudden confession of love for Justin defy belief. Perhaps, that's the point. Heaven knows, there are many films from the late 1960s and early 1970s that throw logic out the window and I'm quite fond of some of them (e.g., I'll Never Forget What's 'isname).

Jack Gilford as Wilbur.

In addition to Scott's excellent performance, They Might Be Giants provides Jack Gilford with arguably his best film role. He plays Wilbur, a librarian who has known Justin from childhood, and wishes he could immerse himself in another identity. He would choose the Scarlet Pimpernel, fop by day and hero by night. (Gilford's recitation of "They seek him here..." is a little gem.)

As it builds to what appears to be a whimsical climax, with Holmes and Watson joined in a march by all the quirky people they've met, They Might Be Giants suddenly changes tone. It closes on an odd note, leaving one to wonder if the couple have lost their sanity forever or simply found contentment in their complete fantasy. (Although there are different running times for the film, I have not found any indication that the final scene was tampered with in any way.)

That's not a reason to dismiss They Might Be Giants. Even if its grand ideas don't ultimately come together, you shouldn't miss a chance to see George C. Scott play Sherlock Holmes.

Paul Newman Gets Wet in "The Drowning Pool"

Harper arrives in New Orleans.

It probably sounded like a good idea at the time: Send Paul Newman's California private eye Harper to New Orleans and get him involved with a former flame, corrupt cops, a devious oil man, a dangerous young woman, and a whole lot of water. It took three screenwriters--typically a sign of trouble for a movie--to try to combine these elements into a coherent mystery. "Try" is the operative word here and, to the defense of the writers, I don't think Billy Wilder could have made a decent movie out of The Drowning Pool--though his version would have been more fun.

Newman first appeared as Lew Harper in the 1966 boxoffice hit Harper. That film was based on the Ross MacDonald novel The Moving Target, which featured private eye Lew Archer. There are several stories explaining the name change from "Archer" to "Harper," but--whatever his name--audiences loved Newman in the part. Still, sequels weren't as common in the 1960s as today, so it was something of a surprise when Newman decided to revive Harper nine years later in The Drowning Pool.
 

Joanne Woodward as Harper's client.

This time around, the easygoing detective goes to The Big Easy at the request of an old flame (Joanne Woodward) who has received an anonymous blackmail letter. Harper has barely walked into his motel room before a young woman (Melanie Griffith) tries to entrap him and he's arrested by an overprotective police detective (Tony Franciosa). He spends most of the film asking questions and getting beat up. There are two murders and a suicide along the way, but, to his credit, Harper eventually figures out the identity of the killer.

The Drowning Pool is a sluggish affair peppered with dull characters. It's hard to fault the actors. After all, Newman, Woodward, and Franciosa all appeared in another Southern drama, The Long, Hot Summer (1958), and that turned out marvelously. In The Drowning Pool, though, even Mr. and Mrs. Newman don't seem to have any chemistry in their scenes. It doesn't help that their tender moments are inexplicably underscored by a sappy instrumental version of "Killing Me Softly With His Song."

Newman and Gail Strickland in the best scene.

As for the title of The Drowning Pool, that brings us to the movie's best scene. Murray Hamilton, sporting a stylish red, one-piece jumpsuit, strands his wife (Gail Strickland) and Harper in a hydrotherapy room in an abandoned mental institution. Not wanting to face Hamilton's goons the next day, Harper decides to flood the room so he and his companion can float up to the ceiling and escape. It doesn't work as planned, but Harper still breaks free.

Of course, it could also be that The Drowning Pool refers in some esoteric way to the films's characters who are emotionally drowning in a swamp of apathy. Frankly, though, I think it refers to the angst experienced by unfortunate viewers who sit through this vapid mystery for 109 minutes.

Signpost to Murder: A Tidy Thriller

The Milhampton Asylum.

Alex Forrester, an inmate at the Milhampton Asylum for the Criminal Insane, is under-standably perturbed when the institution's board denies his release. However, he hatches an escape plan after his psychiatrist, Dr. Fleming, mentions an unusual law which entitles a fugitive to a new trial if he evades capture for 14 days.

Forrester (Stuart Whitman) seeks refuge at the isolated home of Molly Thomas (Joanne Woodward). Molly appears to be a lonely woman no longer in love with her husband Evan. She confesses that she married him because she wanted to become someone else. For her husband's part, Molly tells Forrester: "It's having a wife that Evan loves."

Forrester senses Molly's vulnerability and she is surprised by his innocent nature. He doesn't seem like a man who may have slit his wife's throat. The couple draw closer together as the police dragnet closes in. But the police are only one of Forrester's problems--especially after he sees a male corpse with a slit throat on the water mill located in the middle of Molly's house.

Joanne Woodward, Stuart Whitman, and the water mill visible through window.

Made in 1964, Signpost to Murder has become nothing but a footnote in the careers of its stars. However, that doesn't negate the fact that it's a tidy thriller that holds interest and takes advantage of a brilliant set. Most of the action takes place in Molly's house and around the aforementioned river mill. I don't think it's an exaggeration to suggest a number of film fans know it simply as "the river mill house movie." (Click here to see a clip on our YouTube channel.)

The water mill is located under the three windows in the roof.

Signpost to Murder was based on a 1962 London play by Monte Doyle. That comes as no surprise, given the limited number of sets. You'll likely figure out the plot's big revelation before the climax. Still, with a running time under 80 minutes, you won't get bored.

Stuart Whitman makes Forrester a sympathetic character, no small feat considering that the escaped inmate may be a murderer and is holding a woman hostage with a shotgun. Whitman earned a Best Actor Oscar nomination in 1961 for The Mark, in which he played another emotionally fragile individual. He also played a man posing as an asylum inmate in 1964's Shock Treatment.

The 1960s were an uneven decade for Joanne Woodward, who balanced critically-acclaimed performances (Rachel, Rachel) with misfires (e.g., The Stripper). She and Edward Mulhare (as Dr. Fleming) give solid performances in Signpost to Murder. However, from an acting standpoint, it's Whitman that holds the movie together.

The view from Forrester's perspective as he watches Molly and Dr. Fleming.

I first saw Signpost to Murder on The CBS Late Movie in the mid-1970s. It was one of those movies that stuck with me over the years. I recently had the opportunity to watch it again and, while it could use the Hitchcock touch, it remains a compelling thriller. And, yes, I still love that "river mill house."

A Weekend Recommendation: The Long, Hot Summer

It's Saturday night and you just watched Point Blank as part of the Cafe du Cinema Society. It turned out to be grim and more violent than you expected. Hey, why not stay turned to TCM and chill out watching Paul Newman romance Joanne Woodward in The Long, Hot Summer?

This engrossing trip into William Faulkner's South stars Newman as drifter Ben Quick, the son of a barn burner (which makes one instantly unpopular). Ben arrives in the small hamlet of Frenchman's Bend, Mississippi, where bigger-than-life Will Varner (Orson Welles) owns just about everything. Varner, who recently recovered from a heart attack, is obssessed with getting "some more Varners" in the way of grandchildren. His weak-willed son Jody (Tony Franciosa) isn't making much progress with his pretty, but somewhat flighty wife Eula (Lee Remick). So, Varner is determined that his smart, headstrong daughter Clara (Woodward) get married. And if it's not to her long time, would-be suitor Alan...than it may as well be to that ambitious "big stud horse" Ben Quick.
 

The near-perfect cast bring these colorful characters to life, to include Angela Lansbury as Varner's mistress. The lively exchanges between Newman and Welles are a joy to behold (Varner to Ben: "I've been watching you. I like your push, yes. I like your style. I like your brass. It ain't too dissimilar from the way I operate.") But the heart of the film is the sparkling chemistry between Newman and Woodward; they were married the same year the movie was released. My favorite scene between them:  an exhange in the general store, which goes from playful to enlightening.
 

The Long, Hot Summer is an immensely entertaining, surprisingly rich film. It's got great music, too, to include the Alex North-Sammy Cahn title song.