The Dark Side of Human Nature in Billy Wilder's Ace in the Hole

Kirk Douglas as Chuck Tatum.

There are plenty of cynics in Billy Wilder's films, but none perhaps can match ambitious newspaper reporter Chuck Tatum (Kirk Douglas) in Ace in the Hole (1951). Once a star reporter, Tatum's womanizing, drinking, and tendency to bend the truth have gotten him fired from all the major newspapers. He still has enough talent to convince the publisher of the small-scale Albuquerque Sun-Bulletin to hire him. Chuck's plan is to hang around until he can find a story that will return him to the big time.

Fate provides just that when Chuck and young photographer Herbie stop at a desert gas station en route to a rattlesnake hunt. They meet platinum blonde Lorraine Minosa (Jan Sterling), whose husband Leon has become trapped in a mountain cave while hunting for Indian relics. Chuck takes charge of the situation--quickly dispatching with a sheriff's incompetent deputy--and promises Leon that he will be free in no time.

Chuck brings news to Leon.

Within 24 hours, Chuck is writing front page headlines and transforming the isolated locale into a bustling hub of activity. He even convinces the crooked county sheriff that his re-election hinges on Leon's rescue. However, Chuck and the sheriff receive "bad news" when a chief engineer informs them that Leon's rescue is imminent. They want the story to last longer, even if it means leaving Leon in the cave for a few additional days. Hence, they direct the engineer to drill from the top of the mountain, an endeavor that will require much more time to free the trapped man.

In the opening scenes, there appears to be a glimmer of humanity in Chuck Tatum. He has the pluck and courage to navigate the dangerous cave tunnels to check on Leon's condition. He calms Leon, gives him hope, and seemingly offers genuine friendship. However, Tatum's motives become questionable when he prevents others from visiting the trapped man. His access to Leon makes him powerful and he uses that to manipulate the media. By the time Tatum intentionally prevents Leon's timely rescue, it's clear that his chief concern is his own career. As Lorraine so elegantly puts it: "I've met a lot of hard-boiled eggs in my time, but you--you're twenty minutes."

Jan Sterling as Lorraine.

Billy Wilder, who also co-wrote the screenplay, softens Tatum's edges by making Lorraine an even more unappealing character. She shows no interest nor sympathy in her husband's plight. In fact, she sees it as an opportunity to get away from Leon--until Tatum convinces her that she can make money from the situation. (For his part, Tatum needs a grieving wife to write about!)

Kirk Douglas plays Tatum as a driven, ruthless man--a master manipulator who can fake empathy when reporting to the public about Leon's condition. He is both attracted to and repelled by Lorraine, whose heart may be colder than his own. The heartless wife is the kind of role that Jean Harlow would have played in the 1930s, although Jan Sterling--in her first starring role--is quite convincing.

The strength of Wilder's film, though, is the director's transformation of the isolated gas station/diner into a mecca filled with gaping tourists, news media, and even a carnival. The level of spectator interest is cleverly conveyed by showing a sign about access to the Indian caves. There is no cost in the beginning, but then there's a 25¢ admission charge which goes up to 50¢ and finally $1. The film's alternate title The Big Carnival, is actually a very appropriate one.

Ace in the Hole was a rare Billy Wilder flop when originally released. I rate it as "good" Wilder, but not among the director's best work. It's too long and the ending comes across as a compromise with the censors. Kirk Douglas and Jan Sterling both deserved Oscar consideration, but the film's only nomination was for screenplay.

Kirk Douglas's Lonely Are the Brave

Of all the films he made, Kirk Douglas listed Lonely Are the Brave (1962) as his favorite. Yet, this unusual contemporary Western was not a box office hit and rarely gets mentioned among his best movies. It has its admirers, though, to include Steven Spielberg and Kirk's son Michael.

It's easy to see what inspired Kirk to pursue adapting Edward Abbey's novel The Brave Cowboy. Its protagonist, Jack Burns, is a middle-aged cowboy who has refused to adapt with the times. He has no family, no street address, and no steady job. He prefers to live alone, converse mostly with his horse Whiskey, and sleep under the New Mexico stars. He is a good man who values independence above all else.

Jack also values friendship. He decides to take action when he learns that his best pal, Paul, has been sentenced to two years in prison for hiding illegal immigrants. Jack's solution is to get thrown into jail, so he can break out Paul. It's a flawed plan for many reasons, the most problematic being that Paul has a wife and son. The end result is that Paul stays behind and Jack becomes a hunted fugitive as he and Whiskey try to cross the mountains into Mexico.

Gene Rowlands as Jerry.

Kirk Douglas enlisted Dalton Trumbo to write the screenplay. The two had worked together previously with Spartacus (1960), the first film to credit, by name, the formerly blacklisted Trumbo in over a decade. The brilliance of Trumbo's screenplay for Lonely Are the Brave is the way in which it paints an in-depth portrait of its introverted protagonist. The audience learns about Jack from his scenes with Paul's wife Jerry (who knows him better than anyone else), the sheriff chasing him, and--yes--his horse Whiskey.

The film's finest scene may be Jack's farewell to Jerry (Gena Rowlands). Their love of one another, buried deeply by both, surfaces briefly when he reveals that he sometimes wishes he could have settled down with a family. It's a fleeting confession because Jack knows it's much too late to change his way of life. The relationship between Kirk Douglas and Gena Rowlands, in her first major film role, is electric. Their parting kiss is one filled with passion and regret.

Matthau as the gum-chewing sheriff.

Sheriff Morey Johnson provides an outsider's view of Jack. As the search for the fugitive continues, he develops a sort of respect for his quarry. At one point, Morey even admits to himself that he wishes the "cowboy" would escape. It's a perfect role for Walter Matthau, whose lawman bares more than a passing resemblance to the transit authority police officer he'd play in the later Taking of Pelham One Two Three.

Finally, there's Jack's horse Whiskey, a young frisky mare who accompanies him on his trek over the hills. Jack's periodic conversations with Whiskey allow the cowboy to voice his inner thoughts for the audience. It's a clever narrative device, though Kirk Douglas once said that Whiskey also stole the film!

Jack talking with Whiskey the horse.

The supporting cast includes a bunch of familiar faces: George Kennedy as a sadistic police officer, William Schallert as Morey's deputy, Bill Bixby as a helicopter pilot, Carroll O'Connor as a truck driver, and Bill Raisch, who has a violent barroom brawl with Douglas. (Raisch achieved fame later as the true killer of Dr. Kimble's wife in The Fugitive). With its impressive cast, breathtaking B&W outdoor photography and Jerry Goldsmith's superb score, Lonely Are the Brave stands out as a unique, compelling film that deserves far more recognition.

Anthony Mann's The Heroes of Telemark

If not for a small band of Norwegian commandos, Adolf Hitler might have had an atomic bomb before the U.S.--leading to a very different outcome for World War II. The Norwegians' exploits form the basis for the fascinating premise of Anthony Mann's The Heroes of Telemark (1965).

The film opens in Oslo, Norway, in 1942 with the Germans manufacturing "heavy water" in a fortified factory surrounded by snow-covered mountains. The lead scientist. who doubles as spy for the Allies, smuggles a microfilm to guerrilla fighter Knut Strand (Richard Harris). Knut convinces a philandering physicist, Dr. Rolf Pedersen (Kirk Douglas), to examine the evidence. 

Richard Harris and Kirk Douglas.

Pedersen has his suspicions immediately, but cannot confirm them until consulting with British and American colleagues (to include Albert Einstein). Still, it's no surprise when they all conclude that the Nazis are producing water with a greater than normal amount of hydrogen isotope--a product that is used in creating atomic energy.

The Allies quickly decide that the factory must be destroyed, but its proximity to a nearby village creates the first challenge for Knut and Pedersen. A British bombing of the production facility could be deadly for the town's 6,000 residents. However, the factory's location and high level of security make it an almost impossible task for a ground attack. What will they decide?

Filmed largely in Norway, The Heroes of Telemark benefits mightily from the snowy vistas that frame the action. The scenes of the commandos trudging through snow drifts, with the wind whistling in the background, is enough to make most viewers reach for a hot beverage regardless of the time of year. One of the film's highlights is an exciting ski chase that pre-dates later skiing sequences in On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969) and Jean Claude-Killy's Snow Job (1972).

Douglas and Harris amid the snow-covered backdrop.

While Kirk Douglas and Richard Harris inject some star power into the proceedings, both are saddled with one-dimensional characters. That's odd considering that Anthony Mann's 1950s Westerns are noted for their emphasis on characterization over action. It's also difficult to buy Kirk's sudden transition from a university professor to a gun-carrying commando who kills bad guys without remorse. On the plus side, Mann packs The Heroes of Telemark with exciting set pieces: the hijacking of a ship; the explosive raid on the factory; and the sinking of a ferry carrying the heavy water.

Ulla Jacobsson.

Although partially based on the real-life Knut's 1954 book Skis Against the Atom, the screenplay takes some liberties with the actual events. Numerous attacks on the water production facility over a period of several years have been condensed into two raids, which makes for a more streamlined plot. However, the inclusion of a renewed romance between Douglas's scientist and his ex-wife (played by Swedish actress Ulla Jacobsson) adds nothing of value of the story.

Stephen Boyd and Elke Sommer were attached as the stars early in the production planning (when the film was to be called The Unknown Battle). Boyd had appeared the previous year in Mann's The Fall of the Roman Empire (1964). After several delays, though, Boyd abandoned the project and, according to some sources, he sued Mann for $500,000 because he missed out on other lucrative roles.

There have been other films, books, and documentaries produced about the courageous men who ensured that Nazi Germany never developed an atomic bomb. The Heroes of Telemark may not be the most accurate version, but it's a well-made, atmospheric adventure that serves as a good introduction--and it looks fabulous on Blu-ray. Sadly, it was also Anthony Mann's last completed film. He died while directing the Cold War thriller A Dandy in Aspic in 1967 with star Laurence Harvey completing it.

Allied Vaughn Entertainment provided a review copy of The Heroes of Telemark Blu-ray.

Disney's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea

Kirk Douglas as Ned Land.

It's a whale of a tale...I swear by my tattoo. Well, truth be told, I'm not a tattoo kind of guy, but Walt Disney's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea is still an impressive achievement 64 years after its original release. However, a recent viewing reminded me that it's more a movie for adults than children.

The plot, a fairly faithful adaptation of Jules Verne's 1870 novel, opens with the U.S. government launching a search for a "sea monster" that has been destroying warships. The expedition includes a famous French scholar, Professor Aronnax (Paul Lukas), his assistant (Peter Lorre), and a harpooner named Ned Land (Kirk Douglas). When their ship is attacked, the trio fall overboard and are later rescued by the "monster"--which turns out to be a technologically advanced submarine called the Nautilus.

Captain Nemo's submarine, the Nautilus.

The submarine's commander is Captain Nemo (James Mason), who has turned his back on mankind and retreated to a world beneath the oceans. Nemo is thrilled to discuss his discoveries with a fellow scientist, Aronnax, so he spares the lives of his three new passengers. Yet, as their undersea voyages continue, the professor gradually realizes that Nemo is consumed by revenge. Meanwhile, the restless Ned Land plots his escape--hopefully with some of the treasure stored aboard the Nautilus.

Cannibal tries to board the submarine.

With whole sequences that play like a documentary narrated by Paul Lukas and a running time just over two hours, one would expect 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea to be a leisurely affair. However, director Richard Fleischer spaces the three best action scenes with precision. Just as an underwater expedition starts to turn dull, Douglas and Lorre are attached by a shark. A quick visit to a seemingly deserted island gets enlivened by a tribe of cannibals chasing after Douglas. And, as Nemo's near-madness begins to take center stage, Fleischer inserts the film's showstopper: an attack by a giant squid amid a ferocious storm.

James Mason as Captain Nemo.

Douglas, Lukas, and Lorre acquit themselves capably, but the standout performance belongs to James Mason. He captures Nemo's excitement at discovering the wonders of the deep, but also the Captain's depression over the death of his family and his hatred toward the human race that he holds accountable.

Of course, one could argue that the true star of 20,000 Leagues is the Nautilus. From the submarine's exterior design to the observation cone in the captain's quarters, it presents one wonder after another. It should come as no surprise that the film won Oscars for Best Art Direction - Color and Best Special Effects.

The giant squid attack at sunset.

Part of the justification for the latter award was no doubt the famous squid battle. It was originally filmed at sunset, but then reshot because it lacked drama (and some of the wires were visible). Although the scene was believed to be lost, 16mm footage was later discovered and the sequence edited for a "special edition" DVD. It looks pretty good, although the sunset looks like a painted backdrop. The reality is that the storm added immeasurably to the suspense.

Watch it for the thrilling giant squid. Watch it for another fine James Mason performance. Or watch it for the impressive art direction. Whatever the reason, if you haven't watched 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea recently, it's probably time to see it again.

Kirk Douglas Discovers a Lovely Way to Die

Italian actress Sylva Koscina.

Beautiful Italian actresses hit the peak of their popularity in Hollywood in the 1960s. Call it the "Sophia Loren effect," since it was spurred largely by her boxoffice hits in the 1950s opposite the likes of Cary Grant and William Holden. Thus, Hollywood studios welcomed Claudia Cardinale, Luciana Paluzzi, and--one of my favorites--Sylva Koscina.

In 1968, Universal tried to turn Ms. Koscina into a big star by pairing her with two popular leading men: Paul Newman in The Secret War of Harry Frigg and Kirk Douglas in A Lovely Way to Die. The latter is one of those movies I saw in the 1970s on television, but seemed to have disappeared. To my delight, it showed up in a 2016 boxed set called Kirk Douglas: The Centennial Collection.

Kirk Douglas looking concerned.

Kirk plays Jim Schuyler, a tough detective who quits the force after getting too aggressive with some bad guys. He has barely turned in his badge when he receives a call from attorney Tennessee Fredericks (Eli Wallach), who wants him to provide protection for his latest client. That client is Rena Westabrook (Sylva Koscina), who is accused with her lover of murdering her wealthy husband. Schuyler has no interest in the gig until he meets Mrs. Westabrook, whose stunning beauty sets his hormones racing.

Rena's innocence is based solely on one key witness, who has unfortunately gone missing. As Jim delves into the mystery surrounding the death of Rena's husband, he can't decide if she's a falsely accused victim or a cold, calculating killer. Either way, he can't overcome his attraction to her, especially since it appears to be reciprocated.

From its peppy title song warbled by Jackie Wilson, it's apparent that A Lovely Way to Die isn't intended as a serious film. Indeed, once the plot is unraveled, it turns out to be pretty simplistic. The film's appeal comes down to its stars and, in this case, they come through.

Kirk Douglas employs his boyish charm to great effect, especially in scenes like the one where he greets Rena's house staff cheerfully after exiting from an overnight stay in the lady's bedroom. He also gets the bulk of the script's one-liners. For example, when Rena asks Jim why he's trying to make love to her, he quips: "I think it had something to do with Mama delivering a boy child." (Later, Rena reverses this line, but it doesn't work as well.)

Eli Wallach as Tennessee.

Still, Eli Wallach practically steals the film--as he often did during his lengthy acting career. It's an impressive feat considering that his role is that of a stereotypical, homespun Southern lawyer. But hey, it worked for Andy Griffith for years on the Matlock TV series. One of my favorite lines in A Lovely Way to Die is when Jim reminds his friend Tennessee that, despite the carefully honed Southern drawl, the attorney hadn't been to Tennessee for decades.

As for Sylva Koscina, she doesn't fare as well as her American co-stars. Despite her jaw-dropping looks, she comes up surprisingly short in terms of allure. Part of the problem may be a lack of chemistry with Kirk Douglas, fueled by an age difference of seventeen years. I also think the costume designers could have created a better wardrobe for her. When Rena asks her maid to pick out "something sexy" to wear, the result is a dress that covers her completely.

Sylva Koscina returned to Italian cinema after A Lovely Way to Die and worked steadily through most of the 1970s. She appeared opposite another Hollywood icon when she co-starred with Rock Hudson in the 1970 Italian-made World War II actioner Hornets' Nest. She died in 1994 at age 61 from breast cancer. She is probably best-remembered by American audiences for her performances as Steve Reeves' love interest in the sword-and-sandal hits Hercules (1958) and its sequel Hercules Unchained (1959).

A War Wagon Loaded With Gold!

John Wayne as ex-con Taw Jackson.

After being "shot, framed, and sent to prison" for three years, Taw Jackson (John Wayne) intends to gain revenge on the goldmine baron responsible. Taw's plan is to rob the Pierce Mining Company when it transports $500,000 of gold ore across 43 miles of treacherous terrain.

It won't be easy. Twenty-eight men, armed with repeating rifles and pistols with 200 rounds of ammo, guard the outside of the gold-carrying wagon. Five more men guard the safe inside the wagon. As if that's not bad enough, the wagon is plated in iron and was recently retrofitted with a turret housing a gatling gun. Folks call it the "war wagon" for a good reason.

Kirk Douglas as Lomax.

Taw assembles a motley crew to assist him with this heist. Wes Fletcher (Keenan Wynn) is a disgruntled Pierce employee tasked with transporting the stolen gold in flour barrels. The shady Levi Walking Bear (Howard Keel) has the responsibility to negotiate with a Kiowa Indian tribe to stage an attack as a diversion. Young Billy Hyatt (Robert Walker, Jr.) is a drunk with a talent for using nitroglycerin. Finally, there's a hired gun named Lomax (Kirk Douglas), who has also been offered $12,000 to kill Taw. Quite the band of merry men!

Made in 1967, The War Wagon is a breezy Western with plenty of action and humor. Among John Wayne's later Westerns, it doesn't rank with the best (True Grit, The Shootist), but I'll take it any day over run-of-the-mill oaters like Rio Lobo and Cahill U.S. Marshal. Plus, it's interesting to see the Duke as--technically--a criminal.

Valora Nolan not playing Animal!

The supporting cast alone makes it required viewing for fans of 1960s cinema and television. It includes Wagon Train TV series regulars Terry Wilson (Bill Hawks) and Frank McGrath (Charlie Wooster). Keenan Wynn's "wife" is played by Valora Nolan, best known for her roles in Beach Party (as "Animal") and Muscle Beach Party. One of the bad guys is future High Chaparral regular Don Collier (whom we interviewed in 2016) and another is stuntman and future director Hal Needham (Smokey and the Bandit).

Although John Wayne receives top billing, Kirk Douglas dominates The War Wagon as the fun-loving gunfighter Lomax. In addition to delivering most of the best lines, the athletic Douglas even steals scenes with his acrobatic approaches to mounting his horse. I do question his character's wardrobe choice, however, as that leather shirt looks like it'd be mighty hot for the Western Plains.

The scene I always remember best about The War Wagon is where a log suspended by ropes swings down and knocks off the top of the wagon. For some reason, it's one of those iconic scenes that seems to stick in one's memory long after plot details are forgotten.

The swinging log heads toward a collision with the war wagon!

By the way, one would expect that co-star Howard Keel would sing the opening "Ballad of the War Wagon," written by Dimitri Tiomkin and Ned Washington. Instead, that's Ed Ames warbling it on the soundtrack.

Kirk Douglas is a Man Without a Star

Kirk Douglas as Dempsey.

Borden Chase penned some of the most important Westerns in film history, to include: Howard Hawks' Red River plus the Anthony Mann-James Stewart collaborations Winchester '73, Bend of the River, and The Far Country. He co-wrote the screenplay for Man Without a Star (1955), an engrossing Western that may not rank with the aforementioned films, but still remains a compelling "adult Western."

Kirk Douglas plays Dempsey Rae, a cowhand that keeps drifting further north as large ranches with their fences begin to dominate the Western landscapes. While stowing away on a train, he meets a young greenhorn (William Campbell), whom he later dubs the Texas Kid. After Dempsey rescues Texas from a probable hanging, the young man clings to the veteran cowboy. Dempsey eventually takes Texas under his wing and gets both of them a job at the Triangle Ranch.

Jeanne Crain as the new owner.

They settle in nicely until two events trigger a series of conflicts. First, one of the smaller ranchers decides to use barbed wire to preserve fresh grass for his herd. The mention of "barbed wire" gets Dempsey fired up (we learn why later) and he decides it's time to move on. His plans change, though, when he meets the Triangle's new owner: the beautiful Reed Bowman (Jeanne Crain).

Although Man Without a Star was based on a 1952 novel by Dee Linford, it shares many similarities with Borden Chase's other Westerns. As in The Far Country, there are two strong female characters: Crain as the ambitious rancher and Claire Trevor as a brothel madam. However, the film's central relationship is between two men: Dempsey and Texas. That's a recurring element in all of the previously-mentioned Borden Chase Westerns (e.g., John Wayne and Montgomery Clift in Red River, James Stewart and Arthur Kennedy in Bend of the River, James Stewart and Walter Brennan in The Far Country, etc.).

Richard Boone, as a baddie, with Crain.

Indeed, one of the challenges in Man Without a Star is its brief 89 minute length leaves little time to explore relationships and themes. For example, once Reed Bowman shows up, the Texas Kid vanishes into the background for a large chunk of the film. Similarly, Reed is nowhere to be found in the film's closing scenes. Thematically, Chase and his fellow writers use the barbed wire fences as an analogy for the impending civilization of the West (much as Sergio Leone would later use trains in Once Upon a Time in the West). However, again, there is insufficient running time to explore this theme in any depth.

Claire Trevor and Kirk Douglas.

Screen veteran King Vidor directs with a sure hand and adds some nice humorous touches. My favorite is when Dempsey and the Triangle's foreman (Jay C. Flippen) are engaging in a pleasant breakfast conversation as Texas fights another ranch hand outside the bunkhouse. The camera never leaves the breakfast table as we hear the punches and grunts from the fisticuffs. Another funny scene is when Dempsey asks to see the new bathroom installed in the ranch house...imagine that...a bathroom in the house!

Man Without a Star was remade just 13 years later as A Man Called Gannon with Tony Franciosa in the Kirk Douglas role and Michael Sarrazin as his protege. It's a respectable Western, but lacks the verve and cast that makes Man Without a Star required viewing despite its limitations. It also doesn't have a catchy title song sung by Frankie Laine!

For Love or Money: When Kirk and Mitzi Played Rock and Doris

Mitzi Gaynor and Kirk Douglas.

Made in 1963, For Love or Money is one of those mildly suggestive 1960s romps made famous by the classic comedy team of Rock Hudson and Doris Day. It even features two veterans of the Rock-Doris films: Thelma Ritter and Gig Young. Indeed, the only major difference is that For Love or Money stars Kirk Douglas and Mitzi Gaynor.

Kirk plays Deke Gentry, an attorney hired by wealthy Chloe Brasher (Thelma Ritter) to smooth over the financial difficulties that have arisen between her and her three grown daughters. Deke can also pocket an extra $100,000 if he can match up each daughter with Mom's selected suitor. Considering that Deke spends more than he earns, the extra cash sounds mighty good.

Julie Newmar as Bonnie.

The daughters are an eclectic trio consisting of: Bonnie, a fitness guru (Julie Newmar); Jan, a hippie art enthusiast (Leslie Parrish); and Kate, a motivational researcher (Mitzi Gaynor). Though it requires some elaborate planning, Deke pairs off Bonnie with an IRS agent (Dick Sargent) and Jan with a childhood friend (William Windom) who rehabilitates convicts through art. However, his plans to match up Kate with his wealthy best friend Sonny (Gig Young) keep going awry. In fact, Kate begins to suspect that Sonny is a figment of Deke's imagination.

For Love or Money is an amusing comedy that lacks the sharp wit behind genre classics such as Pillow Talk (1959) or Lover Come Back (1961). Still, it's a better movie than some of the later individual efforts by Rock (e.g., A Very Special Favor) and Doris (e.g., Do Not Disturb). It could have used more of Thema Ritter and, at 108 minutes, it's easily ten minutes too long and lumbers to the expected finish.

Mitzi in a stunning orange Jean
Louis gown with a white coat.

The film's greatest strength is its two stars. Amazingly, Mitzi Gaynor only made seventeen feature films, preferring to concentrate on television specials and her nightclub act (I saw her perform live in a 1990 touring production of Anything Goes). She comes across as a natural comedienne in For Love or Money and generates plenty of sex appeal in some stunning Jean Louis outfits. This would turn out to be her final film appearance.

As for Kirk Douglas, it's easy to forget his versatility as an actor. During his career, he starred in action films (The Vikings), Westerns (Man Without a Star), hard-hitting dramas (The Detective Story), political thrillers (Seven Days in May), and mysteries (The List of Adrian Messenger). So, it should come as no surprise that he seems completely at home in a romantic comedy. Indeed, Douglas often exhibited a playful side even in his serious roles. So, perhaps, it's surprising that he didn't make more straight comedies during his lengthy career.

For Love or Money is one of eight movies featured on the modestly-priced DVD set Kirk Douglas: The Centennial Collection. Some of the others include Spartacus, Lonely Are the Brave, Man Without a Star, and The List of Adrian Messenger.

"The Fury" Ups the Ante on Teenage Alienation

Kirk Douglas watches his son get abducted.

Brian DePalma has made better movies than The Fury (1978), but none that can match it for pure entertainment and craftsmanship. It shows a director, at the peak of his powers, layering science fiction and teen alienation over a conventional suspense plot. As if to make the film even more robust, DePalma integrates some unexpected humor and a shock ending that stunned audiences.

For most of its running time, The Fury follows two parallel stories. In the first, Peter (Kirk Douglas), a retired government agent, searches desperately for his kidnapped teenaged son. An early scene between father and son reveals that Robin (Andrew Stevens) is “special,” though his unique talents remain a mystery throughout much of the film.

Amy Irving as Gillian.

The second plot revolves around Gillian (Amy Irving), a teenage girl who inadvertently discovers she may possess extrasensory powers. Eager to learn about herself, Gillian enrolls at the Paragon Institute, which studies ESP and telepathy. She soon learns that she has a psychic connection with a former Paragon resident—a boy named Robin.

Thematically, the connection between Gillian and Robin is that they’re both isolated from a “normal” society. When Robin’s father discusses returning to the U.S. to attend school, Robin replies: “I won’t fit in; I’d feel like some kind of freak.” Likewise, Gillian knows she is different. Except for one friend, her classmates treat her cruelly or ambivalently (not unlike the title character in DePalma’s earlier Carrie). It’s no wonder that Gillian becomes anxious to meet Robin—to finally talk with someone like herself.

Tragedy strikes during the escape.

Stylistically, DePalma engages in some of his trademark directorial flourishes. There are plenty of foreboding overhead angles and a shot where the camera revolves around Gillian on the stairs as she has a vision. But The Fury also features my favorite sequence in any DePalma film: a stunning, five-minute, slow-motion scene in which Gillian escapes from the Paragon Institute. Manipulating the soundtrack to maximum effect, DePalma avoids dialogue and filters out all natural sounds except for screeching tires and gunshots. He then uses John Williams’superb music score to alter the scene’s mood from light to dark in a matter of seconds.

Although the climax to The Fury goes over-the-top and turns excessively gory, the film’s virtues easily outweigh its faults. Amy Irving turns in a winning, vulnerable performance, while Carrie Snodgress provides great support as a nurse who befriends her. DePalma keeps the plot moving smartly, while visually reminding us this is a film about people reaching out to one another. Watch for his many shots of hands: Gillian grabbing the doctor’s hand on the stairs; Gillian’s and Robin’s finger tapping in unison; and Peter holding onto his son’s hand near the end.

Carrie Snodgress and Kirk Douglas.

Kirk Douglas appeared in movies for three more decades after The Fury. I'd rate this among the best of his late-career performances. He and Snodgress share some winning scenes and he forges an effective paternal relationship with Irving. The Fury is really an ensemble piece and Douglas, the film biggest star, accepts that knowingly.

Trivia fans should note that two of Gillian’s classmates are played by Daryl Hannah and Laura Innes (Carrie on the television series ER). The off-duty cop with the new Cadillac is Dennis Franz, long before NYPD Blue. For the record, my second favorite DePalma film is the equally underrated Body Double, an entertaining, slightly sleazy homage to Hitchcock’s Rear Window.


This post is part of the Kirk Douglas 100th Birthday Blogathon hosted by Shadows and Satin. Click here to check out the complete blogathon schedule.

Gift Ideas for the Classic Film & TV Fan

For the last seven years, we've published a list of our favorite gift ideas for classic television and movie fans. It's typically one of our most popular posts of the year. So, without further ado, here are our choices for 2016:

1. Kirk Douglas: The Centennial Collection. This boxed set is a great value with eight movies and a price under $20. Of course, it's the quality of films that count and there are four winners in this set: Spartacus, Lonely Are the Brave, The List of Adrian Messenger, and Man Without a Star. The other quartet are less impressive, but still entertaining enough (e.g., John Wayne joining Kirk in The War Wagon). Just consider those flicks a bonus!

Robert Reed and E.G. Marshall.

2. The Defenders: Season 1. We just reviewed this 8-disc set, so we'll skip a description other than to say this is one of the great legal dramas in television history. The cases are just as relevant and controversial today as they were in the 1960s. We've seen it priced under $30--another fine value considering that you get 32 50-minute episodes.

3. The Jack Lemmon Star Collection. This is our favorite of the various collections of Jack Lemmon movies. It includes two Billy Wilder classics--The Apartment and Some Like It Hot--and the underrated Lemmon-Wilder collaboration Avanti! The fourth and final film, How to Murder Your Wife, is a pleasant 1960s comedy with Virna Lisi. It's not as good a value as other boxed sets in the list, but you may be able to find a good deal over the holidays.

4. Agatha Christie's Poirot: The Complete Cases Collection. Are you shopping for any mystery fans? If so, then we heartily recommend this boxed set containing 70 episodes of Agatha Christie's Poirot starring David Suchet. The mystery plots range from ingenious ("Lord Edgware Dies") to the routine (and, yes, they sometimes deviate from Ms. Christie's works). However, Suchet is impeccable as the Belgian detective Hercule Poirot and Hugh Fraser makes a fine Captain Hastings. This is not an inexpensive present, but you may be able to find it for under $100 during the holiday season. Then, you can sit down and pit your little gray cells against Hercule's!

5. Green for Danger. If you're looking for an inexpensive stocking stuffer, then consider this nifty 1947 British mystery starring Alastair Sim and Trevor Howard. Set in a hospital during World War II, it pits a droll detective against a clever murderer. In his book The Detective in Film, William K. Everson touts it as one of the three best detective films ever made (the others being The Maltese Falcon and The Kennel Murder Case). You can buy it for under $8.

Rock and Dorothy Write It in the Dusty Wind; Leslie Caron Can't Replace Doris

Dorothy Malone may have won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for Written on the Wind (1956), but Rock Hudson benefited more from the film's success. Along with Giant (1956) and his Jane Wyman pairings, Written on the Wind propelled Hudson into a major star. Thus, he was at the peak of his career while Malone's film roles were fading when they teamed up with Kirk Douglas in The Last Sunset. Malone's guest appearance in a 1961 two-part episode of Route 66 signaled the beginning of her transition to a television career that eventually resulted in the hit nighttime drama Peyton Place.

In The Last Sunset (1961), Malone plays the wife of a drunken, cowardly rancher (Joseph Cotten) who unknowingly offers a job to his spouse's former lover Bren O'Malley (Douglas). A Texas lawman named Stribling (Rock Hudson) wants O'Malley for the murder of his brother-in-law. The two men encounter each other at the ranch and, surprisingly, agree to put their showdown aside to help Malone and Cotten drive a herd of cattle through dangerous territory.

Considering the talent involved, including former blacklisted writer Dalton Trumbo and director Robert Aldrich, The Last Sunset should have been a better film. Nevertheless, the cast keeps it interesting and Kirk Douglas makes Bren one of the most poetic cowboys in American cinema, as evidenced by the passage below:

Find yourself a nice, big boulder with the waves breaking against it. Look deep. Dream of seahorses and they'll come. Not many people know of it. Not many people care. But the sea is a place where the seamen shoe the hooves of the wild sea mare. Not many men have seen it or caught the faintest gleam of the ice green cave in the deep green sea in the heart of the cold sea stream, but the sea mare hides her young sea colt wrapped in a shy sea dream. But probably all the people know and can absolutely say that the foam on the sea is the sign that you see the mare and her colt at play.

Carol Lynley, in one of her first major roles, has the best scenes as Malone's daughter. Ironically, the two actresses share a Peyton Place connection. Carol played Allison in the film Return to Peyton Place (1961), while Dorothy Malone later portrayed Allison's mother on the 1964-69 TV series.

Malone might have improved her performance in The Last Sunset by toning down the glamour. One can almost overlook the soft blonde curls, but her heavy pink lipstick and eye shadow seem inappropriate for a woman driving the chow wagon on the cattle trail.

Finally, one can't discuss The Last Sunset without mentioning a climatic revelation that may make some viewers cringe. It's not that the revelation is surprising--I suspected it from the beginning. It's that the screenwriters insert a scene that will convince many viewers that their suspicions cannot be correct. Thus, when the "truth" (assuming Malone's character isn't lying) is revealed, the realization of what happened (and what could have happened) is an "oh my" moment. If this paragraph doesn't make sense, read it someday after you've seen the movie.

Chadwick talking with two girlfriends
at the same time.

Rock Hudson's versatility and popularity made him one of the busiest actors in the 1960s. In A Very Special Favor (1965), he trades his Western duds for a business suit as a New York-based "trouble-shooter" named Paul Chadwick. He defeats a French attorney, Michel Boullard (Maurice Chevalier), in court by sleeping with the female judge. The elderly Boullard admires Chadwick's way with the ladies. In turn, Chadwick bonds with Boullard and, feeling bad about how he won the case, offers to perform a future favor.

It turns out that Boullard is visiting New York City to spend time with his daughter--whom he hasn't seen in many years. He learns that she is a female psychiatrist (Leslie Caron) who completely dominates her fiance (a very funny Dick Shawn). Deciding that his daughter needs someone who can ignite her passion at least once, he calls in his very special favor with Chadwick.

Leslie Caron.

What follows is the kind of sex farce that Rock Hudson and Doris Day carried off so effortlessly in Lover Come Back (my fave), Pillow Talk, and Send Me No Flowers. The problem with A Very Special Favor is that Leslie Caron lacks Doris' comedic chops--and there's no Tony Randall!

It's still amusing to see Rock, who was a fine comedian, play a ladies' man masquerading as a sensitive guy who's afraid of the opposite sex. His performance, though, is just a variation of the role he played to perfection in Lover Come Back. And without Doris Day--the ying to his yang--A Very Special Favor falls flat too many times.

William Wyler's "Detective Story"

Sandwiched between two period dramas, The Heiress (1949) and Carrie (1952), William Wyler's contemporary Detective Story may be the famed director's grittiest drama. Based on Sidney Kingsley's Broadway play, it takes place during a single day at New York City's 21st precinct police department.

Kirk Douglas stars as Jim McLeod, an uncompromising police detective intent on waging a one-man war against crime. ("We're your army," he tells a victim. "We're here to protect you.") His personal vendetta focuses on Karl Schneider, a former physician accused of operating a "baby farm." When McLeod loses his two witnesses against Schneider--one is paid off and one dies--his anger turns to violence. He beats Schneider severely, turning the would-be criminal into a victim of police brutality. Yet, McLeod can cope with a potential assault charge hanging over his head. He is totally unprepared, however, when his actions set into motion a revelation that destroys the one thing that brings stability to his existence.

Many directors have struggled with transforming a static play to the more flexible medium of cinema. Never known as a visual stylist, Wyler avoids dramatic camera shots and elaborate editing tricks. Instead, he creates a canvas on which the performers can play out the story. Still, that's not to say that he doesn't subtly enhance the setting and performances with his use of close-ups and deep focus. 

Parker and Douglas.

Wyler conveys the chaos of the police station by employing deep focus to show three detectives in one shot, each "stacked" behind the other, talking over one another about different cases. In a key scene between McLeod and his wife Mary (Eleanor Parker), Wyler frames them so that McLeod faces the camera in the foreground while his wife (unable to see her husband's face) struggles to choose her words in the background. And, in another scene between the two, Wyler shows Mary in close-up, while McLeod's clenched fist--symbolically containing his about-to-explode emotions--lurks, barely visible, on the right side of the frame.

Even with Wyler's enhancements, Detective Story's stage origins are obvious--and that's not a bad thing. A large room where the detectives write their reports serves as the principal set as a wide array of characters enter and leave during the day: an eccentric woman who believes her neighbors are making an atomic bomb; a young man accused of embezzlement; a couple of hoods; a nice-guy reporter; and  an apologetic shoplifter (Lee Grant) who observes the proceedings while awaiting her fate. The intertwining subplots add to the film's realism (as does the lack of background music) while never distracting from the portrait of a man precariously on the edge.

Douglas with William Bendix.

The cast is uniformly fine, with several performers (e.g., Lee Grant, Horace McMahon, Joseph Wiseman) repeating their stage roles. Kirk Douglas gives one of his most compelling performances, though it helps that it's a riveting part with memorable dialogue (e.g., "Take a couple of drop-dead pills" and "I'm drowning in my juices"). Ralph Bellamy played McLeod when the play debuted on Broadway in 1949.

Wyler encountered significant censorship challenges in adapting Detective Story from stage to screen. In the play, Schneider is accused of illegal abortions, which would have violated the motion pictures industry's Production Code, which stated "abortion, sex hygiene and venereal diseases are not proper subjects for theatrical motion pictures." 

Joseph Wiseman (the future Dr.
No) with Kirk.

A more serious problem--involving the death of one of the characters--was averted when the Production Code was amended in March 1951. From 1938 to 1951, the Code stated: "There must be no scenes, at any time, showing law-enforcement officers dying at the hands of criminals." That was fortunately amended to: "There must be no scenes, at any time, showing law-enforcement officers dying at the hands of criminals unless such scenes are absolutely necessary to the development of the plot."

With its themes of forgiveness and self-righteousness in judging others, Detective Story fits nicely among Wyler's works. What makes it one of his best movies is Wyler's ability to provide a sympathetic portrait of a a violent man hanging by a thread that he cuts himself.


This review of part of the William Wyler Blogathon hosted by The Movie Projector. To read reviews of other William Wyler films, click here.

The Price of Political Ambition in "Posse" and "The Candidate"

This month's focus on politics in movies continues with two films from the 1970s, each a labor of love for its star: Posse and The Candidate.

Kirk Douglas produced, directed, and starred in Posse, an ambitious political Western about Texas marshal Howard Nightingale, a candidate for the U.S. Senate. Nightingale has built his campaign around capturing the notorious railroad-robbing outlaw Jack Strawhorn (Bruce Dern). Unfortunately, with the election approaching quickly, Strawhorn's capture has proven difficult--even for Nightengale's posse of six highly-paid professionals. However, when a payoff reveals Strawhorn's whereabouts, Nightingale and his posse burn down the barn containing Strawhorn's men and the $40,000 loot obtained from their latest robbery. To the marshal's extreme displeasure, Strawhorn manages to escape...though not for long.

If Posse was intended as a cynical editorial on the politically-turbulent 1970s, it never quite reaches that goal. Its message is ultimately muted, but there are still pleasures along the way. Douglas and company nicely convey that political strategies have changed little over the last 120 years. Nightingale's campaign speeches consist of vague promises like being tough on crime. He fights with a local newspaper editor played by James Stacey. He employs his own photographer to make sure that no photo opportunities are missed (even when he poses solemnly after burying one of his posse). Nightingale even travels in a luxurious train car, courtesy of the railroad--it's no coincidence that his populist rhetoric stresses the importance of railroads in building the country's future.

Yet, while Nightingale's future looks promising, the same can't be said for his posse. Their boss proudly informs the gunmen that he has secured them jobs as security guards for the railroad for $100 a month. Their response: We make more than that now. When a Native American member of the posse notes that the railroad doesn't hire Indians, Douglas replies with an offhand: "We'll have to work that out." Yes, trouble is brewing within the ranks of the posse.

Kirk Douglas directs with a sure hand, though at the expense of fleshing out what really makes Nightingale tick. Bruce Dern fares much better as the charming and crafty Strawhorn. Remarkably restrained, it may be my favorite Dern performance.

An unnecessary death mars what could have been one of cinema's all-time great endings--but it's still very good. In the end, Posse is a satisfying, offbeat portrait of political ambition and its consequences.

The same theme gets a very different treatment in The Candidate, Robert Redford's inconsistent tale of a young California lawyer's rise from small-time crusader to the U.S. Senate. Redford stars as Bill McKay, the son of a popular former governor, who has no political aspirations--until an astute campaign manager (wonderfully played by Peter Boyle) seeks him out. McKay is reluctant to agree to run for office. He wants a guarantee that he can "say what I want, do what I want, go where I please." Boyle's character agrees, noting that it means McKay will lose the election.

The campaign gets off to a promising start, with the press embracing McKay's frank views. But when his message fails to click with the public, his campaign team shifts to vague rhetoric and (amusingly) empty TV spots that capitalize on the candidate's looks while saying nothing of substance. McKay starts to rise in the polls and suddenly seems capable of unseating his three-term incumbent opponent.

It's easy to see what Redford and director Michael Ritchie wanted to do with The Candidate. Three years earlier, they had teamed for Downhill Racer, a sharp portrait of an inconsiderate human being who also happened to be a great skier. Unfortunately, the lead character in The Candidate simply lacks interest. We should feel something when McKay realizes--quite belatedly--that he has sold out. Instead, it means little because we never really got to know McKay in the first place. He is a bland enigma at the start of the film and remains so at the end.

To his credit, Ritchie provides an absorbing insider look at the campaign trail, from the musty hallways of the hotels to the camera crew following the candidate around, hoping for a snippet that can be used in a TV spot. His use of handheld cameras is effective at first, but quickly grows weary.

Despite its shortcomings, The Candidate was a boxoffice hit. Redford was on the verge of superstar status and the film was certainly timely (it was released during the 1972 Presidential primaries). However, if you're seeking an original political picture from the 1970s, then I recommend you ride along with Kirk Douglas's Posse.