Seven Things to Know About Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea

1. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea was nominated for 11 Emmy awards from 1965 to 1967, all in technical categories. It won four Emmys for Special Photographic Effects, Cinematography, and Film & Sound Editing. The show's special effects were supervised by L.B. Abbott, the head of the Special Effects Department at 20th Century-Fox from 1957 to 1970. Abbott was also awarded four Oscars for his special effects work in the movies Doctor Dolittle (1968), Tora! Tora! Tora! (1971), The Poseidon Adventure (1972), and Logan's Run (1976).

Del Monroe as Kowalksi.

2. Del Monroe played the same character in the 1961 theatrical film Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and on the TV series. He was billed as Delbert Monroe in the film and played Seaman Kowski. He shortened his professional name to Del Monroe for the TV series, while his character was renamed Kowalski (sometimes shortened to "Ski"). Although Del Monroe never received a credit in the series' opening, he appeared in 98 episodes from 1964-68. Mark Slade, who later played Blue on The High Chaparral, also appeared as a crewmember in the film and TV series--though his name changed from Smith to Malone and he only appeared in five episodes during the first season.

3. Budget-conscious producer Irwin Allen sometimes reused footage from his movies and shared costumes across his TV series (which included Lost in Space and Time Tunnel). Two of his most famous uses of recycled footage are in the Voyage episodes "The Sky's On Fire" and "Turn Back the Clock." The latter, a first season episode, finds Captain Lee Crane (David Hedison) on an island populated by dinosaurs and a native girl (Vitina Marcus). The dinosaur footage (actually live lizards in "make-up") was lifted from Allen's 1960 theatrical film The Lost World--which starred Hedison and Marcus. The second season episode "The Sky's on Fire" is basically a condensed version of the theatrical film Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (1961) with recycled footage of the Seaview and the burning skies.

Admiral Nelson as a werewolf.

4. Admiral Nelson's first name--which is rarely used--is Harriman (or Harry to close friends). He is a four-star admiral, though his rank inexplicably changes to three stars briefly during the first season (surely a continuity error). Nelson has many close encounters with aliens and monsters during the show's run. He transforms into a werewolf in two episodes. In "Werewolf," the second episode of the third season, a fellow scientist infected with lyncanthropy, attacks Nelson--who also becomes a werewolf. Twelve episodes later, in "The Brand of the Beast," Nelson becomes exposed to high levels of radiation and transforms into a wolf-man again. (And, for the record, Captain Lee Crane turned into a werewolf-like creature in the season 4 episode "Man Beast.")

Hedison in "The Human Computer."

5. In a 2013 interview, I asked David Hedison, who plays Captain Crane, to list his favorite episodes: "I thought I did good work in several first season episodes when we had better writing. 'The Saboteur,' where I was brainwashed by the Chinese to kill Admiral Nelson, 'The Enemies' where I went mad and tried to kill the Admiral, 'Mutiny' where Nelson went mad and I had to stop him.  Hmmm...do I sense a pattern here? Another episode I enjoyed was 'The Human Computer.' It was the first episode they let me carry--the episode was me, alone on the Seaview with a Russian saboteur. That was fun to do."

6. Several changes occurred with the debut of the second season of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. Henry Kulky, who played Chief Petty Officer (CPO) Curley Jones, died of a heart attack in February 1965. He was replaced by Terry Becker, who portrayed the submarine's new CPO, Francis Ethelbert Sharkey. The show also switched from black-and-white to color, which was highlighted in the season's first episode "Jonah and the Whale." The plot had Nelson and a Soviet scientist in a diving bell swallowed by a whale! The Seaview received several season 2 upgrades, including a nifty yellow flying sub (I had one of the original model kits). However, the most significant change was an emphasis on science fiction and more fantastical plots. That carried over into the show's final two seasons.

7. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea was a modest hit for ABC, but it never cracked the year's Top 30 shows in terms of Nielsen ratings. It didn't help that ABC moved it from Monday at 7:30 pm in its first season to Sunday nights for the remainder of its run--opposite perennial hit Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color on NBC. 

The Conversation and Repeat Performance

Gene Hackman.

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

Joan Leslie.

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

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

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

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

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

Milton Berle and Sean Garrison.

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

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

Suzanne Pleshette.

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

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

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

Richard Basehart as a German officer.

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

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

Summer of MeTV Classic TV Blogathon: Let's Go on a Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea!

What was the longest-running science fiction TV series of the 1960s? If you answered Star Trek, Lost in Space, or even The Outer Limits, you'd be wrong. That distinction belongs to producer Irwin Allen's Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, which debuted in 1964 and ran for four years.

Richard Basehart as Admiral Nelson.

The show's "star" was the Seaview, a futuristic, atomic-powered submarine designed by Admiral Harriman Nelson. Although Nelson essentially lived aboard his super sub, the vessel's commander was the younger Captain Lee Crane. The relationship between these two men--paternal, respectful, and occasionally at conflict--formed the central core of the series throughout its run. It was enhanced by the casting: film veteran Richard Basehart played Nelson while handsome, likable David Hedison was Crane. The two actors became lifelong friends off-screen.

The episodes from Voyage's first season featured a canny mix of suspense, espionage, and science fiction plots. In “Hotline,” the Seaview’s crew has to disarm a nuclear reactor aboard a Soviet satellite that crashed into the ocean. “No Way Out” finds Nelson and Crane trying to provide safe passage for an uncooperative Communist defector. In “The Sky Is Falling,” Nelson tries to negotiate with apparently-friendly aliens (this was the first of many episodes about extraterrestrials).

Captain Crane looks concerned.

It’s a strong season that benefitted from quality guest stars such as Robert Duvall, George Sanders, Carroll O’Connor, Hurd Hatfield, Everett Sloane, and June Lockhart. Additionally, three episodes were penned by notable film and television scribes: Charles Bennett (Foreign Correspondent, Curse of the Demon); John McGreevey (The Waltons); and the amusingly-named Cordwainer Bird--which was a pseudonym for acclaimed science fiction writer Harlan Ellison.

The colorful Flying Sub.

A modest ratings hit, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea was renewed for a second season—but one that brought changes. Gruff but lovable Chief Curley Jones was nowhere to be seen, because actor Henry Kulky had died from a heart attack at age 55. Terry Becker joined the cast as Chief Sharkey. The realistic mini-sub was replaced by a spiffy, colorful “flying sub.” And most notably, there was a shift toward more science fiction plots, starting with the first episode. Titled “Jonah and the Whale,” it found Nelson and a female Russian scientist literally inside a gigantic whale after the beast swallows their diving bell. (The elaborate, colorful sets for this episode was the subject of a TV Guide article.)

By the third season, the Seaview had become a popular place for strange creatures to visit. The crew had to battle a werewolf (Admiral Nelson no less!), a mummy, a “heat monster,” some “fossil men,” a deadly cloud, a mean mermaid, “wax men,” and Nazis revived from suspended animation. This monster-of-the-week approach wore thin, although Basehart and Hedison still kept the show watchable. Despite placing #63 in the Nielsen ratings for the season, Voyage was renewed for a fourth and final season.

A dinosaur borrowed from The Lost World.

I've chosen not to dwell much on Irwin Allen’s entertaining theatrical film, 1961’s Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, which served as the basis for the series. However, it warrants a mention for two reasons. First, the budget-minded Allen was always looking to get the most out of existing sets and stock footage. So, the TV series’ season 2 episode “The Sky’s on Fire” ripped off the movie’s plot about the Van Allen radiation belt “catching fire” and threatening to scorch the Earth. Likewise, the season 1 episode “Turn Back the Clock” recycled footage from Allen’s 1960 theatrical film The Lost World—which conveniently starred David Hedison. The dinosaur scenes (actually, they were live lizards on miniature sets) from that movie also cropped up in other episodes.

The movie’s other contribution to the TV series was its special effects wizard L.B. Abbott. The head of 20th Century-Fox’s special effects department from 1957-70, Abbott won Academy Awards for Doctor Doolittle (1967), Tora! Tora! Tora! (1970), The Poseidon Adventure (1972), Logan’s Run (1976). He also earned three Emmys for his special effects, one for Allen’s Time Tunnel and two for Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. They were the only Emmys won by Voyage.

A blueprint of the Seaview.

As a youth, Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea was my first “favorite TV show.” It also inspired me to write my first fan letter, which yielded a black & white photo of the Seaview and a copy of its blueprint (I wrote about this in an earlier post). I had a model of the Flying Sub and a toy Seaview propelled across my bathtub waters courtesy of a wound-up rubber band. I am not alone in my affection for this show either. You can find all kinds of cool stuff about Voyage at the Irwin Allen News Network and my 2013 interview with David Hedison ranks as one of the Café’s most popular posts.


This post is part of the Classic TV Blog Association’s Summer of MeTV Classic TV Blogathon. Click here to check out the complete blogathon schedule. And don’t forget to set your video recording devices for Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, which airs weekly on MeTV on Sunday at 1:00 a.m.

John Mills, Jane Greer, and Richard Basehart: It's Triple Feature Time at the Cafe!

Jim--haunted by memories of the tragedy.

The October Man (1947). A bus accident on a dark, rainy night leaves Jim Ackland (John Mills) with a skull fracture--and the tragic memory of a friend's young daughter who died while under his care. After spending a year in a hospital, Jim emerges a fragile man who still battles suicidal thoughts. He resumes his work as an industrial chemist and takes a room in the nearby Broadhurst Common Hotel. He makes no friends at the hotel, but finds love with a co-worker's sister. But, just as his life begins to brighten, darkness falls again when he becomes implicated in the murder of a hotel resident.

The luminous Joan Greenwood.

Hitchcock might have crafted a classic suspense film had he adapted Eric Ambler's novel. However, in its current form, The October Man remains a tidy "B" movie with quality performances and atmospheric direction. John Mills is ideally cast in the lead, giving a nuanced performance as a man who finally gains a foothold in society, only to begin to doubt himself again. As his fiancee, Joan Greenwood--she of the marvelous voice--projects quiet strength and determination.

The October Man marked Roy Ward Baker's directorial debut. Baker, who befriended producer/writer Ambler during World War II, never gained acclaim as a director. Still, he had a solid career behind the camera with films such as A Night to Remember (about the Titanic) and Quatermass and the Pit, the best of Hammer's three Quatermass pictures.

There's nothing surprising about the outcome in The October Man. Indeed, in Hitchcock fashion, the killer's identity is revealed well before the climax. That works well enough, but the plot falters with how Ackland's innocence is ultimately confirmed. Still, The October Man is an intriguing, well-done effort worthy of a viewing.

The alluring Jane Greer.

The Falcon's Alibi (1946). The twelfth installment in the long-running Falcon "B" detective film series has one thing the previous installments didn't have: Jane Greer. In just her fifth movie, Ms. Greer plays Lola, a nightclub singer secretly married to a disc jockey called Nick the Night Owl (Elisha Cook, Jr.). Both Lola and Nick work in a hotel building that has been the site of several jewel robberies. Rita Corday (Joan Meredith) works as a secretary to one of the robbery victims. Fearing that she may be implicated in what turns out to be a jewelry scam, she enlists the aid of Tom Lawrence, aka The Falcon. And when has the handsome and suave Falcon ever passed on an opportunity to help out a pretty lady?

Tom Conway as The Falcon.

Of the three actors who played The Falcon--George Sanders, his brother Tom Conway, and John Calvert--my favorite is easily Conway. He approached the role with a light touch, yet never mocked these "B" mysteries. He also possessed a harder edge than his brother, implying that The Falcon could get his hands dirty if he wanted to--he just didn't desire to do so.

The Falcon's Alibi is a solid mystery, but lacks the sparkle of the series' best entries (e.g. The Falcon and the Co-eds). There's also too little of Jane Greer, who sizzles softly in every frame in which she appears. Finally, the picture stretches credibility: Really, Wilbur from The Maltese Falcon (a different bird altogether) married to Kathie from Out of the Past? I don't buy it!

The Extra Day (1956). Shortly after a film production wraps and its cast members go their separate ways, the film's final reel falls out of the back of a truck and goes rolling into the English countryside. Faced with a movie with no climatic scenes, the egotistical director sends production manager Joe Blake (Richard Basehart) to round up the extras so the footage can be reshot the next day. Over the next 14 hours, Joe rescues an elderly couple from an uncomfortable living arrangement, poses as a gangster to prevent an extra from being pummeled in a boxing match, and enlists groupies to kidnap a pop singer to prevent a marriage.

Colin Gordon and Richard Basehart.

This pleasant British comedy starts slowly, but steadily improves en route to its ironic ending. The appealing cast has much to do with the film's charm, especially Simone Simon as an actress romantically interested in one of the extras (George Baker) and Colin Gordon as the uncle of the extra about to be married. Gordon was a familiar face in British cinema and television in the 1950s and 1960s. His film credits range from The Man in the White Suit with Alec Guinness to The Pink Panther and Burn, Witch, Burn. On television, he appeared twice as Number Two in The Prisoner and also guest starred in UFO, Doctor Who, and The Baron.

Simone Simon--pretty in pink.

American audiences probably remember Simone Simon best as Irena in Val Lewton's Cat People and Curse of the Cat People. However, Simon spent most of her long career appearing in French films, to include Jean Renoir's 1938 classic La Bête Humaine (later remade by Fritz Lang as Human Desire). At age 46--but not looking it--Simon gives a bewitching performance in The Extra Day. She subsequently retired from acting, though she returned for one final role in the 1973 comedy-drama The Woman in Blue.

How My First Fan Letter Yielded Childhood Treasures from "Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea"

It was inevitable that Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea would become my favorite TV series in 1964. It had two big things going for it: a futuristic submarine and a never-ending variety of monsters. I knew this was a fact because I'd seen the 1961 theatrical film Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea and it featured the submarine Seaview, a giant octopus, spies, and--for good measure--a "burning sky." (Cost-conscious producer Irwin Allen recycled all these plot elements into the TV series and even included stock footage of dinosaurs from his 1960 film The Lost World.)

I'm not sure where I heard about people writing fan letters to get autographed photographs, but the idea greatly appealed to me. Having not yet learned how wonderful reference librarians are, I sought guidance from my most reliable source of information outside of our Compton's Encyclopedias (which were of no help in this endeavor). I asked my Dad where I should send my letter.

My father worked for a large Western Electric plant, which had a small library and an enterprising librarian who probably used one of the business indexes to track down the address to 20th Century-Fox. I typed my letter on the family's old Underwood typewriter...and waited for what seemed like years.

Then one day, I discovered a large envelope in the mail containing a small black-and-white photograph of the Seaview and a rough blueprint of its interior. I was ecstatic! Those two items would be displayed in my bedroom for the next three decades (long after my departure); they would become an integral part of show-and-tell at school for the next four years. Today, I still keep them in my box of childhood treasures.

The actual size of my photo is 3" x 2-1/2".

In the TV series, it was the SSNR Seaview, the "SSNR"
standing for Submarine Seaview Nelson Research.

Having always responded well to positive reinforcement, I followed up with another fan letter. This time,  I requested an autographed photo from star Richard Basehart, who sent the picture below (note it was signed with a felt-tip pen vs. a "stamped" signature):

My "friends" at 20th Century-Fox subsequently enrolled me in the Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea Fan Club. I received a membership card (shown at the start of this post) that made me an Honorary Admiral (like thousands of other kids) and the color postcard below:

Left to right: Basehart, David Hedison, Allan Hunt,
Terry Becker, and Bob Dowdell.

As the years passed, my letter-writing interests went in other directions (e.g., trying to convince a local TV  station to keep airing Dark Shadows instead of a local kids show). I did write 20th Century-Fox a few more times and have some nice Batman photos to show for my efforts. 

However, nothing can compare to the joy of my first fan letter and my beloved photo of the Seaview. 

ABC Movie of the Week: Tierney & Milland Team Up; Doug McClure Plots an Incredible (Fact-based) Escape!

Ray Milland as the grieving father.

Daughter of the Mind (1969).  Ray Milland stars as a guilt-ridden scientist responsible for his young daughter Mary's death in a car accident 13 weeks earlier. After visiting her memorial in a cemetery, he hears Mary's voice while driving home and sees an apparent apparition of her in the road. Is he imagining his daughter's ghost? Is someone trying to affect his mental state? Or has his daughter really returned from the dead? Enter parapsychologist Don Murray, who is determined to discover the truth.

Written by Luther Davis from a Paul Gallico novel, Daughter of the Mind unravels too quickly for its own good. When Murray hears Mary's voice, that eliminates the possibility that Milland may be imagining Mary's appearances. Shortly thereafter, the arrival of a federal agent, nicely played by Ed Asner, steers the plot toward an espionage scheme. The film quickly evolves from "what's happening" to "how was it done." That's a different sort of mystery altogether and, in this case, the explanation is revealed in what amounts to an epilogue.

Gene Tierney in a rare TV appearance.

Still, there are two good reasons to watch Daughter of the Mind. The first is is the opportunity to see Milland and Gene Tierney (who plays his wife). Tierney has a minor role, but Milland gives one of the better performances of the latter part of his career (certainly superior to Frogs and The Thing With Two Heads!). The second reason to watch this film is a delightful cameo from John Carradine, who plays a former charlatan who advises Murray not to concentrate on how the tricks were done...but rather how he would do them.

Das Dodo gets ready for flight.

The Birdmen (1971).  This fact-based tale stars Doug McClure as a POW in 1943 Germany who comes up with the idea of building a glider to escape from Colditz Castle and fly ten miles across enemy lines to Switzerland. Incredibly, most of the film is true: fourteen POWs really did build a glider after discovering a book on aeronautical engineering in the prison camp's library. They really did build a false wall to hide their work from the German guards. And they constructed a glider with a fuselage of 19 feet and a wing span of 32 feet. However, the glider never took flight--the prisoners were liberated before it was launched.

The real Colditz Cock.

Screenwriter David Kidd takes a couple of liberties with the facts to build dramatic tension. Whereas the original glider was built to keep up the prisoners' morale, Kidd has intelligence agent/aviator McClure building the glider to break out a nuclear physicist captured by the Germans. And, of course, this glider (dubbed Das Dodo instead of the real-life Colditz Cock) actually takes flight in The Birdmen.

Basehart as the German commandant;
he played Hitler in a 1962 film bio.

The cast is peppered with familiar faces: Chuck Connors as the senior American officer; Tom Skerritt as an aeronautical engineer; Max Baer, Jr. (with no trace of Jethro's accent) as a gruff soldier; and, best of all, Richard Basehart as the prison camp's German commandant.

Indeed, the only weak spot in this above-average telefilm is ten minutes of stock footage that's tacked onto the opening for no good reason. It consists mostly of explosions and gunfights--dull stuff compared to the audacious escape plot that inspired The Birdmen.

Reign of Terror (1949)

Anyone interested in the works of Anthony Mann would be well advised to take a look at his unusual 1949 film Reign of Terror (also known as The Black Book). The film, which takes place in France in 1794, five years after the French Revolution, opens with the public condemnation and execution of Danton, engineered by Maximilien Robespierre (Richard Basehart). Immediately afterward, Robespierre finds that his secret black book, containing a "hit list" of the other rivals he intends to denounce and persuade the street mobs to condemn to the guillotine, has been stolen.

Robespierre wants to be proclaimed absolute dictator of France in a few days' time, but he realizes that if his enemies make public the contents of his black book, this will never happen and he himself will almost certainly be condemned for his aspirations to power. To find the missing book, he sends for a judge from Strasbourg known for his harsh sentencing of enemies of the Revolution (500 condemned in one month alone). This "hanging judge" is assassinated, however, and his place taken by an impostor intent on exposing Robespierre's treachery, Charles D'Aubigny (Robert Cummings). The rest of the movie is essentially a thriller that details D'Aubigny's attempts, aided by his mistress Madelon (Arlene Dahl), to avoid detection and find the missing book.

Those familiar with the films noirs of Mann from the late 1940s and the Westerns he made in the 1950s, considered landmarks of their genres, will recognize elements of both in Reign of Terror. Made almost at the end of Mann's series of noirs and just before his first Western, it can in many ways be seen as a transition between the two. Themes found in Mann's versions of both those genres are also present in Reign of Terror—impersonation, underworld power struggles, loyalty and betrayal, order versus anarchy, the crushing of ordinary people by the lawless, interpersonal conflict that can erupt into what for its time must have been quite shocking physical violence. D'Aubigny might almost be an undercover agent in one of Mann's noirs, like Dennis O'Keefe's character in T-Men, and Robespierre the leader of a criminal gang the agent infiltrates. Similarly, he resembles one of the heroes portrayed by James Stewart in the Westerns, a man trying to bring a criminal to justice, as in The Naked Spur. The black book itself acts as the movie's "McGuffin," in the same way as the stolen loot O'Keefe seeks to retrieve in Raw Deal or the rifle James Stewart tries to track down in Mann's very first Western, Winchester '73.

The rather bland Cummings might seem a surprising choice to play the hero in a romantic intrigue, but he is actually good, playing the role straight, his voice pitched lower than usual, in a restrained performance quite different from the glib, almost camp persona of his 1950s television sitcoms. Basehart is even better as the notorious Robespierre. The highlight of his performance comes near the end of the film with his impassioned speech to the bloodthirsty mob after the contents of the black book are indeed revealed. When he tells the mob that to die for liberty would be a privilege, is he sincere or is it a clever ploy devised by a master strategist to win their sympathy and save his own life? The scene is especially intriguing coming soon after another scene in which he attempts to cajole a young boy into revealing the whereabouts of the black book with gentle, silver-tongued blandishments as cunning as those of the serpent in the Garden of Eden. Film noir stalwart Charles McGraw also makes a strong impression as Robespierre's uncouth, sadistic chief henchman. But the acting honors in the movie surely must go to Arnold Moss as Robespierre's ally/rival Fouché. He is by turns menacing, sarcastically flippant, and slyly calculating. One moment he seems trustworthy, the next moment entirely duplicitous.

Robert Cummings and Arnold Moss search for the black book.

But the thing that will keep your eyes glued to the screen the whole time is the sheer visual panache of the film. Cinematographer John Alton and Mann made a formidable team in the three noirs they worked on together (four, if you include Mann's uncredited contribution to He Walked by Night, also with Basehart), but to my mind, visually Reign of Terror surpasses even the most impressive of those. The movie may technically be a historical thriller, but it is in many ways a film noir masquerading as a costume picture. The high-contrast lighting, camera placement and movement, dynamic composition, and depth of field all bear the clear stamp of film noir.

At the same time, Mann's use of outdoor locations, uncommon in the generally set- and interior-bound early noirs, points ahead to his Westerns. Near the beginning of the movie is a striking landscape shot of a lone horse rider seen from a distance slowly moving horizontally across a gently arcing hill, the hill and tiny rider silhouetted against a cloudy sky just after sunset, a shot that wouldn't seem out of place in a Western. The film includes a thrilling action sequence that also prefigures Mann's Westerns, in which D'Aubigny escapes Robespierre by jumping through a glass window (which in a Western would most likely have been the window of a saloon). This is followed by an extended chase with D'Aubigny and Madelon in a wagon, pursued by mounted horsemen through the streets of Paris and then through the countryside, again a scene that might have come directly from a Western.

Receiving credit as producer is the great William Cameron Menzies, noted production designer (Gone With the Wind, For Whom the Bell Tolls) and occasional director (the 1936 version of H. G. Wells's futuristic Things to Come, the 1953 sci-fi classic Invaders from Mars). IMDb lists him as an uncredited art director on Reign of Terror. Even though he doesn't receive formal credit, his hand is evident throughout the film in its production design, and he should receive recognition at the very least as an indirect contributor to the film's strong visual appeal. The baroque bedchamber of D'Aubigny's mistress Madelon, the bakery containing Robespierre's headquarters, Robespierre's torture chamber in the basement of the bakery, his private quarters with their bookcase-lined walls that conceal a secret room—all these settings are tremendously atmospheric, far more so than their economical and rather minimal construction would lead one to expect.

Reign of Terror might fall short of greatness, but it does contain enough spectacular parts to make it a pleasure to watch. Connoisseurs of artistic mise en scène will find much to relish here, and because the film stands on the cusp between Mann's noir and Western periods, admirers of his work will find it indispensable to an appreciation of his development as a director.


This review originally appeared on R.D. Finch's blog The Movie Projector and is reprinted with Mr. Finch's permission.

George Maharis and Anne Francis Search for "The Satan Bug"

With its TV-quality cast and pedestrian source novel, The Satan Bug has no right to be a diverting, lively thriller. But director John Sturges works wonders with an implausible plot about a madman who steals a deadly virus from a chemical warfare research facility.

The staging of the theft is clever, but stretches credibility: The bad guys sneak into the lab by hiding in giant supply boxes. You’d think that the guards would have noticed something odd about those oversized cartons, although the boxes are delivered late on a Friday afternoon and everyone seems a little tired. In fact, the facility's head of security (John Anderson) comments ominously: "Tired men make mistakes. God help us if a mistake is made here."

Once the Satan Bug (the scientists’ nickname for the experimental virus) disappears, a game of cat-and-mouse commences. U.S. authorities tap former security expert Lee Barrett (George Maharis) to recover the lethal vials and find out who masterminded the heist.

Geroge Maharis and Anne Francis.

Sturges keeps The Satan Bug moving at a breakneck pace, which perfectly complements the time-sensitive nature of the plot. As Barrett and his companion Ann (Anne Francis) search frantically for the stolen virus, a mysterious millionaire named Charles Reynolds Ainsley threatens to release the virus unless the U.S. government destroys its chemical warfare facilities. To demonstrate his willingness to carry through on his threat, Ainsley has his cronies release a strain of botulinus (stolen along with the Satan Bug) in Florida, killing dozens of innocent people.

While the botulinus becomes harmless after eight hours, we learn that the Satan Bug is a self-perpetuating airborne virus that will kill all life in the U.S. within a week. As for an antidote, the solemn Dr. Hoffman notes: "Nothing can stop the Satan Bug."

Frank Sutton and Ed Asner as bad guys.

It won’t take you long to hone in on the identity of the villain—but that’s part of the fun. Equally entertaining is the cast of former and future TV stars. George Maharis had bolted from his hit TV series Route 66 to take a shot at big screen stardom. It didn’t work, though, and he was back on TV four years later. The villain’s henchmen include Frank Sutton (who would play Sergeant Carter on Gomer Pyle, USMC) and Edward Asner (Lou Grant on Mary Tyler Moore). Anne Francis, whose film career was fading a bit, tried her hand at TV that same year with the short-lived, private-eye series Honey West. And best of all, one of the suspicious scientists is played by Richard Basehart, who starred in my first favorite TV show, Irwin Allen’s Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea.

Years after I first saw The Satan Bug, I found the novel at a library book sale. Knowing that author Alistair MacLean was also responsible for Where Eagles Dare and Ice Station Zebra, I was enthused about reading The Satan Bug. To my surprise, it was exceedingly dull with thin characters and trite dialogue. The film adaptation rates as a major improvement.


The soundtrack album cover--another
great score from Jerry Goldsmith.

Still, don’t expect an a top-flight suspense film along the lines of The Andromeda Strain. Keep your expectations reasonable and you'll find that The Satan Bug is an engrossing, entertaining thriller. And if you’re familiar with the TV stars in the cast, you’re certain to relish the film’s nostalgic appeal.

The House on Telegraph Hill: A Glass of Orange Juice Before Bed

Two women, Victoria (Valentina Cortese) and Karin, become friends in a concentration camp during World War II. Karin, who is frail, talks about her son, whom she sent to America at the outbreak of the war to live with a wealthy aunt. Karin's dream is to be reunited with her son. But, despite Victoria's efforts to keep her friend alive, Karin dies on a cold winter night. Victoria--who has lost her entire family during the war--makes a sudden, fateful decision: She takes Karin's papers and assumes the dead woman's identity.

When Poland is liberated, Karin (the former Victoria) writes a letter to “her” Aunt Sophie in the States. A few weeks later, she receives a telegram from a lawyer informing her that Aunt Sophie is dead. Five years pass before Karin can travel on her own to America. When she arrives in New York City, she demands custody of “her” nine-year-old son Christopher. She anticipates a legal battle, so she is surprised when the boy’s guardian, Alan Spender (Richard Basehart), decides to be reasonable.

A whirlwind courtship ensues, with Karin and Alan getting married within two weeks of their first meeting. All seems to be going well until the newlyweds arrive in San Francisco to live with Christopher in the family mansion on Telegraph Hill. Karin and young Christopher hit it off immediately, but Karin quickly senses that she is not welcomed by Margaret, the boy’s attractive governess. Furthermore, Alan has begun to act strangely towards her…and then there’s the old playhouse in the backyard where that explosion took place.

The House on Telegraph House shares more than a passing resemblance to Hitchcock’s Suspicion, except with a twist. Karin may or may not be married to a murderer, but there is no doubt that she is deceiving those around her. At the core of her deception, she is lying to a young boy and allowing him to believe she is his presumed-dead mother. To be sure, Karin exudes guilt—there are several shots of her staring remorsefully at Aunt Sophie’s portrait. Still, she never tries to remove herself from the situation by telling the truth about her identity. Her apparent reason for doing this is because she has grown to love Christopher…and yet, she is only prolonging the hurt that she may cause him in later life.

The complexity of Karin’s motives makes it a tricky leading role and Valentina Cortese pulls it off fairly well. She excels in scenes such as the one where Karin meets Christopher for the first time—her subtle fear a result of wondering if the boy will somehow sense she is not his mother. Still, Cortese lacks warmth overall, making it difficult for the audience to totally pull for her in a way they might have for a more engaging actress, such as Ingrid Bergman.

Daryl F. Zanuck “discovered” Valentina Cortese in Italy in the early 1950s (she was already appearing in films) and brought her to America in hopes of making her a star. She never connected with American audiences, though, and returned to Europe in 1955. She enjoyed a long acting career there, working with acclaimed directors such as Fellini, Antonioni, and Truffaut. Cortese earned an Oscar nomination in 1973 for Best Supporting Actress for Truffaut’s Day for Night; she lost in that category to Ingrid Bergman in Murder on the Orient Express.

Cortese married her House on Telegraph Hill co-star Richard Basehart in 1951 (they divorced nine years later). Basehart wasn’t the first choice for the role of Alan Spender; Dana Andrews, Richard Conte, and James Mason were among those actors also considered for the part. Basehart was always a solid performer and he’s quite convincing as a murky character that may have ulterior motives. Without giving away any plot spoilers, I will say this: I will never accept an offer of a glass of orange juice before bed.

The ever-versatile Robert Wise directed The House on Telegraph Hill the same year he did The Day the Earth Stood Still. The former film isn’t a beloved classic like the latter one, but The House on Telegraph Hill hold ups nicely today and remains engrossing from start to finish. The title house, by the way, doesn’t really exist—but you can visit the top of Telegraph Hill in San Francisco.

Underrated Performer of the Week: Versatility, Thy Name is Richard Basehart

A nice guy who’s really a homicidal psycho? A soft-hearted clown who consoles the mistreated? An iron-willed, but compassionate, submarine commander? If you needed an actor for any of these roles, you had only to turn to Richard Basehart. During his 37 years in film and television, Basehart quietly displayed his acting versatility—a virtue that attracted acclaimed directors from Samuel Fuller to John Huston to Federico Fellini to Joseph Losey.

Born in 1914, John Richard Basehart grew up in Zanesville, OH, spending some of his childhood in an orphanage because his widowed father was unable to care for all four children (a fifth child died as a baby). Basehart was attracted to acting at an early age, but planned to follow in his father’s footsteps as a newspaper reporter. After a short career in journalism, he realized he couldn’t shake the acting bug. He moved to Philadelphia and then New York, appearing in numerous stage plays. His performance as a dying—but stubborn—Scottish soldier in The Hasty Heart earned him the New York Critics Award for “Most Promising Actor of the Year.” Warner Bros. took notice and signed him to a film contract.

Basehart’s first three films got his screen career off to a fine start. He played a melancholy poet in Repeat Performance (1947), the cult classic about a woman who relives a year over again trying to avert a tragedy the second time around. Basehart next appeared opposite Barbara Stanwyck and Errol Flynn in the entertaining Cry Wolf (though he doesn’t appear until near the climax). His third film earned him his best notices yet as the cold-hearted killer in He Walked By Night (1948), one of the first U.S. films to employ a documentary style to increase realism.

Basehart continued to deliver stellar performances throughout the 1950s. He played a suicidal young man standing on the ledge of a skyscraper in Fourteen Hours (1951). In Tension (1950), he had a rare starring role as a henpecked pharmacist who plots to murder his wife (things don’t work out according to plan…not at all). He got to play the villain again in House on Telegraph Hill (one of my favorite Basehart performances), managing to make an offer of a bedtime glass of orange juice menacing.

Basehart also appeared in his two most famous roles in the 1950s: Ishmael, the “hero” of Moby Dick, in John Huston’s 1956 screen adaptation, and Il Matto (“The Fool”), the clown in Federico Fellini’s classic La Strada (1954)¸ which won an Academy Award for Best Foreign-Language Film. When Fellini was asked why he cast Basehart in the pivotal role of the clown, the great director said it was because of Basehart’s compelling performance in Fourteen Hours.

Basehart gravitated toward television in the early 1960s and, in 1964, signed on to star as Admiral Harriman Nelson in Irwin Allen’s science-fiction TV series Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. Of his role as the stalwart Admiral Nelson, Basehart famously said: “With Shakespeare, there’s more character than an actor can ever plumb. But there’s no greater challenge than making something out of nothing.” (On a personal note: I first became a Basehart fan as a kid watching Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea; in fact, I still have my autographed photo with him as the submarine Seaview’s commander).

When Voyage ended its four-year run, Basehart appeared frequently as a TV series guest star, in made-for-TV movies, and in the occasional theatrical film during the 1970s and early 1980s. Shortly before he died following a series of strokes in 1984, he narrated the closing ceremony of the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles.

Basehart was married three times. His first wife, Stephanie, died of a brain tumor in 1950. He married Valentina Cortese, his House on Telegraph Hill co-star, in 1951; they divorced in 1960. He married Diane Lotery in 1962 and they were together until his death.

(Program note: Fourteen Hours starring Paul Douglas, Richard Basehart, Grace Kelly, and Barbara Bel Geddes airs on TCM this Thursday at 8:00 EST.)

Moby Dick, Ahab and I

From the first line -- "Call me Ishmael" -- to the last -- "I only am escaped, alone, to tell thee" -- Moby Dick haunted my imagination and my dreams.  Warner Brothers' 1956 production, directed by John Huston, with screenplay by Huston and Ray Bradbury, captures the soul of Herman Melville's 1851 novel about obsession and the demigod-complex that feeds it.  There are some differences between the movie and the book, but nothing that damages Melville's vision.  The poetically supernatural writing of Bradbury is evident in the screenplay and only adds to the power of the story.

Gregory Peck portrays Ahab, captain of the whaler Pequod, a surprising choice to many, including Peck himself.  John Huston's father, Walter, was the first choice to play Ahab, but died before the movie was made.  Peck was 40 years old at the time, younger than Melville's Ahab, but the marvelous makeup and costuming transformed the handsome, debonair Peck into the unforgiving, scarred Ahab.  Peck's acting reveals Ahab's scarred soul and rage against God and nature perfectly.  The cast includes a very young Richard Basehart as Ishmael, a wanderer who signs onto the Pequod with his south sea island friend, Queequeg (Friedrich von Ledebur).  The wonderful Leo Genn is the stalwart Starbuck, first mate, with Harry Andrews and Seamus Kelly as 2nd and 3rd mates Stubb and Flask.  Most famous of the supporting cast is Orson Welles, who appears a the unrelenting New Bedford minister, Father Mapple.  His cameo role preaching a thunderous sermon to the outgoing whalers is a powerful performance.

From the beginning, we see that even to his crewmen, Ahab is a god-like figure.  In answer to Ishmael's question about what Ahab is like, mate Stubb says simply "Ahab's Ahab", mirroring the Bible in which God describes himself to Moses -- "I am that I am."  Biblical references abound in Moby Dick.  The ragged man on the wharf who speaks to Ishmael as he goes to the ship calls himself Elijah, prophecying --

"A day will come at sea when you smell land where there be no land, and on that day Ahab will go to his grave, but he will rise again and beckon, and all save one shall follow."  This is one of Bradbury's contributions to the novel, in which Elijah only says something bad will happen.

Ahab's plan for this whaling voyage is not to hunt whales for their oil, but to hunt vengeance upon the white whale, Moby Dick, who took off his leg in an earlier encounter.  Ahab challenges the heavens in his quest, is obsessed with revenge and will take no refusal from anyone in his cause.  He wins the admiration and loyalty of the crew with his hypnotic speech and promises, convincing them with his own unrelenting leadership -- "You be the cogs that fit my wheel, the gunpowder that takes my torch."  Through storms and doldum, Ahab chases Moby Dick -- "I'll follow him around the Horn and around the Norway maelstrom and around perdition's flames before I give him up."

Starbuck is Ahab's conscience, endeavoring always to turn his captain away from his impious desire for vengeance, to no avail.  As Starbuck sees the men come under Ahab's spell, he is horrified -- "Where is the crew of the Pequod?  I see not one man I know among 30.  They are gloves, Ahab fills them, Ahab moves them. 

Moby Dick is so much more than a story of whaling in the early 1800's.  It is a portrait of obsession, vengeance, excitement and tragedy.  I have never forgotten the beautiful language, stirring music by Philip Sainton, and incredible ending of this great movie.

So go down to the sea, stand on the ship with Ahab and experience something very special.