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.

Michael Caine Meets a Billion Dollar Brain

Michael Caine as Harry Palmer.

It was assuredly no easy task to follow in the footsteps of two of the best spy thrillers of the 1960s: The Ipcress File and Funeral in Berlin. So, one must cut a little slack for Billion Dollar Brain (1967), Michael Caine’s third outing as thief-turned-spy Harry Palmer. 

Since we last saw Palmer, he has become a low-rent private eye working out of a dimly-lit office filled with half-empty food containers. He turns down a offer to spy again for his former boss, Colonel Ross (Guy Doleman), and accepts a job from a computerized voice on the phone. His assignment is to deliver a mysterious package to Helsinki. Palmer learns that his cargo consists of six eggs containing a deadly virus. The recipient is an old Palmer associate named Leo (Karl Malden), who works for a Texas billionaire intent on ending the spread of Communism.

Karl Malden as Leo.

It's a promising opening, but the plot soon goes off the rails with a detour to Latvia, a trip to Texas to see a giant computer, and a brief climatic confrontation on the frozen Baltic Sea. The film's biggest mistake, though, is in relegating Palmer to a pawn in these shenanigans. Part of the fun of the earlier Palmer pictures was that his foes constantly underestimated the intelligent, if reluctant, spy. No one manages to manipulate Palmer in Billion Dollar Brain (unless he wants to be by a beautiful Russian agent). However, he has little impact on what happens in the story.

As Palmer's double-crossing one-time friend, Karl Malden looks lost in a poorly-written role. It's hard to believe that his over-eager, seemingly desperate former CIA agent could survive so long in the espionage business. Malden, an exceptional actor in the right part, was prone to occasional bouts of ham (see also Parrish) and that's sadly the case in Billion Dollar Brain.

 Françoise Dorléac as Anya.

His castmates have little to do, with Françoise Dorléac (Catherine Deneuve's sister) being wasted in an under-developed part. (Alas, that was a problem with many of the male-driven spy thrillers of the decade.) At least, Oskar Homolka has a grand time reprising his Russian army general from Funeral in Berlin in a couple of scenes with Caine. Also, look quickly and you may spot future film stars Donald Sutherland as a computer technician and Susan George as a young girl on a train that interacts with Palmer.

It's interesting to note that Billion Dollar Brain was directed by the frequently flamboyant Ken Russell. At that time in his career, Russell was primarily a television director who wanted to get established in films. Thus, Billion Dollar Brain was basically a "for hire" assignment and, as a result, doesn't bear his usual trademarks. To his credit, Russell makes good use of his outdoor locations shot in Finland and he keeps the plot moving along at a reasonable pace.

Billion Dollar Brain isn't a disaster, but it's a horrible letdown from Caine's two previous Palmer movies. If you enjoyed those, you should probably seek out Billion Dollar Brain so you can complete the original Palmer trilogy. Otherwise, there are better ways to spend your time.

Malden and Fraciscus Try to Solve a Cat O' Nine Tails

Karl Malden as Arno.

If you've never seen an Italian giallo film--and have an aversion to movie violence--then Dario Argento's The Cat o' Nine Tails (1971) just might be your cup of tea. It's not a prototypical example of the genre (see Argento's later Deep Red), but it will give you a taste of these movies. It features several familiar giallo elements: a mysterious killer whose identity isn't revealed until the climax, a dark noirish atmosphere, plenty of red herrings, and multiple murders.

Karl Malden plays Franco Arno, a blind former journalist who lives with his young niece Lori.  During an evening walk, Arno and Lori overhear two people in a car discussing blackmail. A couple of days later, Lori recognizes a photo of one of the car's occupants in the newspaper. The man, a scientist who worked at the Terzi Institute for Genetic Research, apparently killed himself by jumping in front of a moving train. 

James Franciscus as Giordani.

Arno suspects foul play and goes to see journalist Carlo Giordani (James Franciscus), who was investigating a break-in at the Terzi Institute. Arno suggests that a photo of the "suicide" be enlarged and Giordano contacts the photographer. The enlargement reveals a hand on the side of the frame, shoving the victim in front of the train. However, by the time Arno and Giordani reach the photographer, he has been strangled and the picture has been stolen.

Could the murders somehow be linked to the Terzi Institute and involve the discovery of a chromosome that makes people prone to violent behavior?

Director Dario Argento is justly famous for his fluid camerawork and dark visual aesthetic. His camera moves less than usual in Cat o' Nine Tails, but his visual design does not disappoint. Shadow-filled streets, hallways lit with a sliver of light, and close-ups of a bloodshot eye create a pervasive atmosphere of unease. As in Val Lewton's pictures, alleys and buildings seem devoid of people--except for the victim and the killer, whose presence is often indicated by a point of view shot.

Catherine Spaak as a suspect.

Malden and Franciscus don't really mesh with the Italian supporting cast, but that doesn't detract from the story. Malden fares best as the curious former journalist who jumps at the chance to unmask the murderer ("I like solving puzzles"). However, he disappears for a long middle section as the plot focuses on Franciscus and his relationship with one of the suspects (Catherine Spaak). Their awkward lovemaking scene is the film's low point. Well, that plus placing little Lori out of harm's way only to have the killer nab her near the climax.

The title refers to an metaphor used by Malden, in which the cat is the crime and the nine tails are the leads that should result in solving it. That may not quite make sense, but then Cat o' Nine Tails is not a movie that can withstand close scrutiny. Watch for the visuals and the atmosphere. If you're intrigued--and not squeamish--then look for Deep Red (1975). It stars David Hemmings (Blow Up) as a pianist who witnesses the murder of a telepathic woman who sensed the thoughts of a killer during a parapsychology demonstration in a theater.

Parrish: Our Choice for the Classic Comfort Movie Blogathon

Troy Donahue as Parrish.

A "comfort movie" is like a good friend who is always a welcomed visitor, no matter how long it's been since you seen him or her. It's fun to share familiar characters, plots, and settings and remember how one felt when that movie first became your chum. That's certainly the case with Parrish (1961), which I first saw on TNT in the early 1990s.

I think I inherited an enjoyment of big-screen soaps from my mother. Make no mistake, Parrish is unabashedly a soap, but don't let that sway you from watching this opus about young Parrish McLean (Troy Donahue) and the four women in his life. The first of those is his mother Ellen, who has perhaps kept her son too close in the ten years following her husband's death. That changes when Ellen (Claudette Colbert) takes a job as a chaperone for the daughter of Connecticut tobacco farmer Sala Post (Dean Jagger).

Diane McBain as Alison.

Parrish winds up working for Sala and quickly falls for Lucy (Connie Stevens), one of his fellow crop workers. Lucy has the hots for Parrish, too, but is reluctantly seeing someone else. However, what  really cools their passion is the arrival of Sala's debutante daughter Alison (Diane McBain). She wants three things in life: wealth, fun, and Parrish. 

Meanwhile, Ellen is being wooed by Sala's tobacco rival Judd Raike (Karl Malden). Judd is a ruthless, powerful man, but he genuinely cares for Ellen and, as she admits to her son, Judd's fortune is an attraction, too. While the Raike sons, wimpy Wiley and hateful Edgar, make quick enemies of Parrish, Judd's teenage daughter Paige develops a crush on him. 

Who will Parrish end up with? The passionate Lucy, the sultry Alison, or the sweet Paige? Or none of the above?

Troy Donahue and Connie Stevens.

Parrish is a faithful adaptation of Mildred Savage's 1958 bestseller. According to Diane McBain's autobiography, Warner Bros. originally purchased the film rights for director Joshua Logan (Picnic). Logan wanted Vivien Leigh as Ellen and Clark Gable as Judd. He also screen tested Warren Beatty for the lead role. McBain says that Logan rejected the first draft of the screenplay and he was replaced by Delmer Daves. The latter was coming off A Summer Place, a big hit which shared a lot in common with Parrish (e.g., parents experiencing romance as well as the youths, star Troy Donahue).

I can't imagine a more appropriate cast than the one assembled by Daves. Troy Donahue certainly lacks Beatty's dramatic chops, but he brings sincerity and naivety to the lead role. Colbert (in her final film appearance) and Jagger add a nice touch of class.

Malden looking intense as Judd.

But the film belongs to Karl Malden and the young actresses who play Parrish's loves. Malden is delightfully over-the-top as Raike and makes him the most demanding movie boss this side of Everett Sloane in Patterns. Connie Stevens shines as the vulnerable, free-spirited Lucy, her performance earning her the lead in another Daves-Donahue collaboration Susan Slade (1961). Diane McBain smolders as Alison, although she was subsequently typecast as the bad girl in films like Claudelle Inglish (1961). (Interestingly, McBain claims there was a bit of a rift on the set between the young performers and the older ones.)

Actress Susan Hugueny, who played Paige, met producer Robert Evans (Chinatown) while making Parrish. She was 17 and he was 30, but they were married (though it was short-lived). It was the first of seven marriages for Evans, who once described Hugueny as "so pure I felt guilty kissing her."

Susan Hugueny as Paige.

In addition to the cast, Parrish's other virtues are its colorful outdoor photography (a staple of Daves' latter films) and another fabulous score from frequent Daves' collaborator Max Steiner. The famed composer includes separate themes for each of the four female characters, with my favorite being the lilting melody for Paige.

I saved one of the most fascinating facts about Parrish for last. Hampton Fancher, who played Edgar, was relegated to TV guest star roles for much of his career. In 1982, though, he tried his hand as a screenwriter and adapted Blade Runner. He also penned the story and co-wrote the script for Blade Runner 2049 (2017). As always, should this knowledge net you a large cash prize on Jeopardy!, be sure to show your gratitude to the Cafe.


Click here to check out the rest of the awesome schedule the Classic Comfort Movie Blogathon in support of National Classic Movie Day.

Beyond the Poseidon is Not a Disaster

Following 1978's unmitigated flop The Swarm, Beyond the Poseidon Adventure (1979) offers a little redemption for producer-director Irwin Allen and star Michael Caine. Let's be clear: This belated and unnecessary sequel to 1972's The Poseidon Adventure is not a good film. But it is a watchable film thanks to an interesting cast and the many ways it manages to rehash the first film.

Caine plays Mike Turner, a small-time ship captain with financial difficulties, who loses his cargo in a storm at sea. Turner, first mate Wilbur (Karl Malden), and "passenger" Celeste (Sally Field) get a break when they happen on the capsized Poseidon. Turner plans to board the luxury ocean liner and recover any valuables, which he can then claim as salvage.

Michael Caine, Karl Malden, and Sally Field.

Before he can execute his plan, a larger ship arrives at the site. Its captain, Dr. Stefan Svevo (Telly Savalas), states his mission is to rescue and provide medical services to the remaining survivors. Turner and Svevo both lead parties into the bowels of the Poseidon--which Wilbur dubs a "floating time bomb"--and are quickly trapped inside the sinking ocean liner.

There are few surprises in Beyond the Poseidon Adventure. It turns out that Svevo has an ulterior motive which has nothing to do with saving passengers. That leaves Turner to become the reluctant hero as he finds passengers who were apparently left behind at the end of the previous film.

Mark Harmon and Angela Cartwright.

Those survivors include: an overprotective father (Peter Boyle), his daughter (Angela Cartwright), the daughter's burgeoning boyfriend (Mark Harmon), the ship's nurse (Shirley Jones), a blind man (Jack Warden) and his wife (Shirley Knight), a socialite (Veronica Hamel), and a self-proclaimed Texas billionaire (Slim Pickens). Naturally, not all of them will make it to the end of the film!

The original Poseidon Adventure is one of the best disaster movies, thanks largely to Gene Hackman's commanding performance. As much as I like Michael Caine, he doesn't put much effort into his lead role. His opening scenes with Sally Field, which include an overdose of playful banter, are painful. It's not hard to see why actors such as John Wayne, Burt Reynolds, and Clint Eastwood allegedly turned down the part.

Savalas...not as Blofeld.

To her credit, Sally Field eventually rights the ship (no pun intended) as the always-optimistic Celeste. Her best scene is when she volunteers to help Caine just so she can cry out of sight of the other passengers. As for the rest of the cast, it's fun to see Slim Pickens hamming it up as a Texas oil man and to watch a young Mark Harmon paired with Penny Robinson from Lost in Space. And I must admit that Telly Savalas' first appearance, dressed in an all-white uniform, made me think he was reprising his role as Blofeld from On Her Majesty's Secret Service.

Surprisingly, the special effects--always a highlight in an Irwin Allen production--are somewhat shoddy. There are some embarrassing rear-screen shots at the start of the film. And when Caine and Malden are navigating their tiny ship through a ferocious storm, one gets the feeling that a bunch of grips are just off-screen throwing buckets of water so they splash on the deck.

It's easy to criticize a movie like Beyond the Poseidon Adventure, but by the time Caine and Co. started focusing on how to escape from the ocean liner, I found myself getting involved in their plight. Yes, it rehashed much of the original with folks bickering among themselves as they jump across huge holes in the hallways and climb creaky ladders with flames blazing below them. I expected all of that...along with the stereotypes and the obvious plotting.

That doesn't mean it was any less fun.


Here's a clip from Beyond the Poseidon Adventure courtesy of www.warnerarchive.com. You can view it full-screen on the Cafe's YouTube channel. (You can also stream the entire movie at Warner Archive).

Walt Disney's Pollyanna

Hayley Mills as Pollyanna.

Impeccably produced and exceedingly well cast, Pollyanna ranks as Walt Disney's finest live-action children's film. Set in 1913, it tells the story of 12-old-year Pollyanna Whittier, an eternally-optimistic orphan who comes to live with her stern aunt in the picturesque small town of Harrington.

Pollyanna's Aunt Polly is a wealthy spinster who pretty much runs the town (which was named after her family). Polly even provides notes and Bible quotations to the local minister, whose fiery sermons leave the local residents with sour stomachs every Sunday. The town is in need of some cheer and that's what young Pollyanna provides. She finds something to be thankful for even in the bleakest situations. When folks complain that the Sunday sermon ruins their fried chicken dinner, Pollyanna quickly notes that they can be glad it's six days until the next Sunday!

Agnes Moorehead as Mrs. Snow.

She also looks for the best in people, a trait that eventually endears her to an elderly recluse (Adolphe Menjou), a cantankerous hypochondriac (Agnes Moorehead), and even the minister (Karl Malden) who has lost his congregation. Pollyanna's "gladness" spreads throughout Harrington and results in the townsfolk defying Aunt Polly by holding a bazaar to raise money for a new orphanage. Polly appears to be the lone hold-out, but a climatic tragedy changes her outlook on life as well.

Based on Eleanor H. Porter's 1913 novel, Pollyanna could have been a sticky-sweet maudlin mess. Instead, it's a bright, energetic film that seems much shorter than than its 134-minute running time. Over 360 young actresses were considered for the title role before British newcomer Hayley Mills was chosen. Walt Disney's wife Lilly was partly responsible for Mills' casting, having seen Hayley in her film debut Tiger Bay (1959).

Jane Wyman as Aunt Polly.

Disney surrounded Mills with an exceptional cast, pairing her with Jane Wyman and some of Hollywood's best supporting performers (e.g., Malden, Menjou, Moorehead, and Donald Crisp). He then added promising newcomer James Drury (The Virginian), the always reliable Nancy Olson, and another Disney child star, Kevin Corcoran (who had earlier appeared in Old Yeller). As if that's not enough, TV fans can rejoice in the presence of familiar faces such as Edward Platt (Get Smart), Reta Shaw (The Ghost and Mrs. Muir), and Mary Grace Canfield (Green Acres).

The central performance, though, is what holds Pollyanna together and Hayley Mills shoulders the responsibility with ease. I'm hard-pressed to think of another child star who seemed as natural on the screen. Mills' acting earned her a BAFTA nomination (the "British Oscar") and she was awarded a special Academy Award in 1961 for "most outstanding juvenile performance."

Hayley Mills and Karl Malden.

Her best scene in Pollyanna is also my favorite in the film: Pollyanna encounters Reverend Ford (Malden) in a field where he is practicing one of his stern sermons.  She recounts how her father, a missionary, struggled to reach his congregation until he focused on finding the good in people. It's a simple point made with childhood innocence, but it strikes home with the minister. It's a lovely scene and reminded me once again that Karl Malden was one of the great actors of his generation.

I was surprised to read recently that Pollyanna was not a boxoffice success. Walt Disney blamed the film's title, which he thought may not have appealed to boys. That may be true, but Pollyanna is truly a film for all ages. In fact, I didn't realize just how good it was until I watched it as an adult.  I have seen Pollyanna many times over the years now and it never fails to entertain and deliver its message of good cheer and faith in one another.

Arthur Hailey's "Hotel"

I always think of Hotel as a follow-up to Arthur Hailey's Airport--when, in reality, the former film came out first. Made in 1967, it was based on Hailey's novel of the same title. Of course, the movie's structure--different stories set in a grand hotel--harkens back to...well...Grand Hotel (1932). Still, it's a serviceable plot device; the key is to wrap the framing story around interesting ones involving the guests. In that aspect, one could call Hotel a reasonable success.

The central story revolves arond the future of the St. Gregory, a posh but aging and debt-ridden hotel in New Orleans. Its elderly owner, Warren Trent (Melvyn Douglas), has a standing offer from developers who want the real estate, but not the hotel. The other option is to sell to hotel magnate Curtis O'Keefe (Kevin McCarthy), who wants to transform the St. Gregory from an upscale hotel into a very commercial one. Neither choice appeals to Trent, so his general manager Peter McDermott (Rod Taylor) tries to put together his own deal.

Merle Oberon as the Duchess.

Meanwhile, a visiting British dignitary (Michael Rennie) and his wife (Merle Oberon) find themselves in a quandry when he accidentally kills a child while driving drunk and flees the scene. While he struggles with his conscience, his wife tries to strike a bargain with the blackmailing house detective (Richard Conte). Other hotel guests fall prey to a clever thief (Karl Malden), who steals room keys and then robs the occupants while they sleep. Finally, Peter can't help but notice O'Keefe's lovely companion (Catherine Spaak) and she apparently has eyes for him.

Screenwriter Wendell Mayes (Anatomy of a Murder, Von Ryan's Express) simplifies and downsizes Hailey's novel. In the book, Peter has a checkered past and is interested in Trent's secretary (who's missing from the movie). Mayes jettisons a major subplot involving an attempted rape, adds the romance between Peter and O'Keefe's girlfriend, and alters the climax. Undoubtedly, major alterations were required to keep the running time at two hours. Still, too much time is spent on Malden's key thief, whose every appearance is accompanied by a playful jazz theme that becomes unbearable.

Rod Taylor as the hotel's manager.

Just as the unflappable, efficient McDermott keeps the St. Gregory operating smoothy, Rod Taylor keeps Hotel moving along from subplot to subplot. A reliable leading man, Taylor got pigeon-holed as a likable hero, which sadly limited his big screen appearances after the 1960s. Lame pictures like Trader Horn didn't help either. Still, he shifted his focus to television in the 1970s, where he thrived for the next two decades in series such as Bearcats! and Falcon Crest.

French actress Catherine Spaak.

While it's entertaining to see classic-era stars such as Ms. Oberon, Conte, and Douglas, they have relatively little screen time. In contrast, too much time is devoted to Kevin McCarthy's one-note "villain" and Catherine Spaak's tedious love interest for Taylor. To the latter's defense, the French beauty is saddled with the film's worst dialogue. When Taylor discovers her wearing only her slip in his apartment, she tells him seductively: "Take off your jacket. You interest me."

Coincidentally, Spaak and Karl Malden appeared in another movie together six years later: Dario Argento's suspense film Cat O'Nine Tails. As pointed out in other sources, there's another bit of trivia involving Malden. After his thief discovers a stolen wallet only contains a few dollars, he blames his bad luck on the growing popularity of credit cards. Years later, Malden would make a famous series of commercials for American Express, advising consumers not to leave home without their credit card.

Eighteen years after the release of Hotel, Aaron Spelling--already flourishing with the similar series The Love Boat and Fantasy Island--produced a TV series based on Hailey's novel. James Brolin played the manager of the St. Gregory, which was now located in San Francisco. Other series regulars during the show's five-year run included Connie Selleca, Shari Belafonte, and Anne Baxter.

"Dead Ringer" Rings True With Many Surprises

Dead Ringer is one of several thriller movies that Bette Davis made in the 1960s. She made both it and Hush…Hush, Sweet Charlotte in 1964. In addition, she also made creepy classics Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? in 1962 and The Nanny in 1965. However, Dead Ringer is my favorite of these films.

It co-starred Karl Malden, who won an Oscar as Mitch in A Streetcar Name Desire (1951). Later in his career, he achieved television fame with the hit series The Streets of San Francisco (1972-1977) co-starring a little-known young Michael Douglas. Surprisingly, Malden never won an Emmy for his portrayal of the character Detective Lt. Mike Stone on the show.

The screenplay to Dead Ringer is based on the story La Otra, also called Dead Pigeon, by Rian James who was one of the screenwriters. The movie was directed by former actor Paul Henreid, whose most famous performances were in 1942’s Casablanca with Humphrey Bogart and in Now, Voyager in 1942 with Bette Davis. He directed other movies and several episodes of television shows such as Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Maverick, Bonanza and The Big Valley.

The story begins when Edith Phillips comes to the funeral of her twin sister’s husband. Edith and Margaret DeLorca are identical twins. Margaret, called Maggie by her friends, sees her sister and invites her to her house. Edith is shocked to enter the DeLorca mansion and see the decadence in which Maggie lives. Maggie takes her upstairs to her bedroom, where she has the gall to offer Edith clothes she is going to throw out. However, Edith sees a mink stole and likes her image in the mirror. Edith tells Maggie that she has been living in Los Angeles for years and has kept up with Maggie in the social news. We soon discover that Edith was deeply in love with Mr. DeLorca.

The problem is that Maggie had a relationship with him as well and Mr. DeLorca married her because she told him she was pregnant. Edith questions her sister about the baby, whom Maggie says died when he was an infant. Bitter over Maggie’s life style and her lack of sympathy for her dead husband, Edith storms out of the house. She stops halfway down the stairs and looks sadly at Mr. DeLorca’s large portrait. Henry, the butler, notices how sad she is and tells her what a good man Mr. DeLorca was. You can tell her that Henry (Cyril Delevanti) is not fond of Mrs. DeLorca. Maggie’s chauffeur drives Edith home. She questions him about the child that died. He informs her that he has been with the DeLorca family for many years and tells her that no child ever born.

Edith owns a bar in the poor section of town and lives in a one room over it. The bar is small, but Edith is a hard worker. Police Sergeant Jim Hobbson (played touchingly by Karl Malden) comes to visit Edith on her birthday and her a watch as a present. Hobbson is in love with Edith, but has never really told her. He just assumes she knows it. Later that night after Hobbson has left, Edith is confronted by the building’s owner, whom she owes three months rent. Edith is a nice woman who kindly helps others which causes her dilemma with the rent. She goes back to her room and calls her sister, telling her she knows everything and wants her come over right away.

While waiting for her twin’s arrival, Edith puts on a robe and hides a revolver in her dresser. She also writes a note. Maggie comes in the room and Edith tells her to sit down. She angrily tells Maggie that she knows that there was never a child and asks Maggie why she lied to DeLorca. Maggie admits she was never pregnant and offers her sister money. Angrily, Edith says no amount of money is enough for what Maggie has done to her by marrying the man she loved. She pushes Maggie in a chair and tells her to read the note. As Maggie reads it, Edith goes to the dresser, takes out the gun and shoots her sister in the head, making it look like suicide. In a creepy scene after her sister is dead, Edith undresses her and puts her robe on her sister’s body and changes into her sister’s clothes and leaves. Thus, Edith is going to live the life of luxury that she feels she was denied. The new Mrs. DeLorca’s chauffer then drives her to the mansion.

Soon Edith realizes that her plot is not as easy as she thought. She looks just like her sister, however, she does not know the names of Maggie’s friends, nor the combination of her safe, and she cannot duplicate her sister’s signature. She also has the maid and the butler, who know Mrs. DeLorca’s rather callus side, to fool as well. Mr. DeLorca’s Great Dane, who never liked Maggie, suddenly adores the new Mrs. DeLorca.

Things for Edith just get worse and worse. Maggie’s life turns out to be more complicated than Edith could ever have imagined. There are many twists and turns in the story which make the movie so entertaining. Edith’s bitterness toward her sister is the cause of her downfall. It is sad to watch her spiraling deeper into the misery of assuming her sister’s identity causes her. She is basically a good person, but bitterness and greed overcome her.

Dead Ringer was remade in 1986 as a made-for-television movie called Killer in the Mirror, with Ann Gillian playing the twin sisters. In Dead Ringer, Paul Henreid wanted Lana Turner to play the twins but she turned down the role. In turn, Bette Davis turned down a role in a movie called 4 for Texas starring Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin to play the twins in Dead Ringer. This wasn’t the only film in which Davis played identical twins. She played twins in A Stolen Life (1946) with Glen Ford.

If you watch this movie, notice the young actress playing Mrs. DeLorca’s maid, Janet. Her name is Monika Henreid and she is Paul’s daughter. Paul Henreid also directed a movie called Ballad in Blue in 1964 where his daughter had a small role as well.

If you get a chance, catch this thriller on DVD or Netflix. It is worth your time.

Into the West: The Hanging Tree--A Harbinger of Hope

As Marty Robbins sings the foreshadowing lyrics of The Hanging Tree, Joseph “Doc” Frail (Gary Cooper) rides into a small Montana gold mining town, laden with sluices and poor, yet hopeful, townspeople. As Frail stops for a moment to regard a large malformed tree, another settler remarks that a “hanging tree” makes a town seem respectable.

The same could be said for having a real physician in this make-shift town (in lieu of a self-proclaimed healer named Grubb). On the surface, Doc Frail fits the bill. When a young girl’s illness turns out to be nothing but malnutrition, Frail loans the poor family his cow to provide milk. His only payment: a kiss on the check from his young patient.

But there’s a dark side to this quiet physician that wears his holster like a gunfighter. There are rumors about his past involving a man and a woman killed when a house burned to the ground. There’s also his treatment of Rune (Ben Piazza), a young man shot while trying to rob a sluice. Frail saves the embittered young man’s life, only to make him work as his bond-servant for payment—threatening to turn over the bullet he removed as evidence.

When a stagecoach is robbed, the townspeople divide into groups to look for its crew and passengers. They agree to fire two shots if someone has been found dead and three shots if alive. Karl Malden plays the sleazy prospector Frenchy, who finds the only survivor: an attractive young woman named Elizabeth (Maria Schell), who has been badly sunburned and temporarily blinded. Frenchy fires twice, waits for dramatic effect, and then fires a third shot in the air with a sly smirk on his face. This sets the tone for Frenchy’s questionable character, which comes into play again.

As Elizabeth recovers under the care of Doc Frail, she, Rune, and Frail form something of a modern family—complete with the usual frictions. The “father” has trouble expressing his emotions. The “son” thinks he hates his strict father. The “mother” tries to make peace between the two of them. Still, it’s a functional unit until Frail’s stubbornness—and perhaps guilt from the past—breaks up the family.

The Hanging Tree shares many similarities with the great Anthony Mann-James Stewart Westerns like Winchester ’73, The Far Country, and Bend of the River. The hero is a man with a questionable past who is given another chance at life. In the Mann-Stewart films, the heroes are often redeemed by communities (as in Far Country and Bend of the River). In The Hanging Tree, redemption comes in the form of a woman’s love and, to an extent, a boy’s respect for his father figure.

The Hanging Tree is also a well-developed portrait of a community that exists solely because of the gold mines. There are no elaborate saloons with musical performers as in many Westerns. The “town” is littered with make-shift buildings and tents filled with prostitutes and self-serving men like Grubb. As in Mann’s Westerns, the townspeople are an important part of the overall fabric of the film. They are sketched in carefully crafted vignettes where we get to know the kindly storekeeper, his suspicious wife, the vengeful gambler, etc.

Yet, while it plays like an Anthony Mann picture, The Hanging Tree is a testament to its underappreciated director, Delmer Daves. A graduate of Stanford University’s law school, Daves broke into the movie business as a highly-successful screenwriter, working on the scripts of The Petrified Forest, An Affair to Remember, and many others. As a writer and later director, he proved capable of making great films in almost any genre. Who else could take credit for making a war film with Cary Grant and John Garfield, a film noir with Edward G. Robinson, and a big screen soap with Troy Donahue? What Daves brought to all those films—and The Hanging Tree—was strong story-telling and an eye for great visuals. (He also seemed to have a knack for working with great composers like Max Steiner.)

The cast of The Hanging Tree is impeccable, led by Cooper’s simmering restraint and Maria Schell’s understated charm. George C. Scott, in his first film role, makes a strong impression in his brief scenes as Grubb. Karl Malden shows his versatility once again, revealing Frenchy’s sliminess in subtle layers.

There are plenty of Westerns with great title songs, such as Gunfight at the O.K. Corral and 3:10 to Yuma. My favorite, though, is the Oscar-nominated The Hanging Tree, which was written by Jerry Livingston and Mack David. It nicely summarizes the moral of this Western tale: that “to really live, you must almost die” and “when a man is gone, he needs no gold.”

The Hanging Tree is a Western without shootouts at the bar, although guns point the way to life and death. It is a story of survival in challenging times, where sometimes you have to lend a hand, regardless of the cost. And where, in the end, family and love are more important than a lifetime of riches.