Danger in the Skies: It's The Concorde...Airport '79

Susan Blakely as Maggie.

With Airport '77 ranking 19th at the box office in 1977, it was inevitable that another Airport sequel would soon follow. Alas, The Concorde: Airport '79, which appeared two years later, turned out to be the installment that killed the series. A shoddy affair from start to finish, it's hard to believe it was produced by Jennings Lang, whose films were noted for their polished look. 

Susan Blakely stars as news reporter Maggie Whelan, who gets a potential scoop when a Harrison Industries employee claims to have proof that the company has been selling arms illegally. After witnessing the informant's murder--and narrowly escaping the same fate--Maggie goes to see Kevin Harrison, the company's owner...and her boyfriend. He proclaims his innocence and Maggie heads off to Moscow to cover the Olympics on a new Concorde jet. However, right before she boards the plane, she receives documented proof of Harrison's guilt.

Realizing that he faces exposure, Harrison (Robert Wagner) decides to destroy the Concorde, killing Maggie (and, of course, a lot of other people). That turns out to be quite a challenge as the Concorde pilots evade a drone missile, fend off fighter jets, and cope with a sabotaged cargo door that starts to literally tear the aircraft apart.

Charo and canine friend.

While the Airport formula remains intact, The Concorde skimps on the details. The passenger vignettes, a mainstay since the first film, seem forced and forgotten this time around. Jimmie Walker plays a sax player who gets high in the bathroom, while Martha Raye tries to control her nervous bladder. Comedian Avery Schreiber plays it straight as a Russian Olympic coach with a deaf daughter, but probably has six minutes of screen time. Worst of all, Charo is wasted in what amounts to a two-minute cameo. That just won't do for the Cuchi Cuchi Girl! (Note that this review is of the theatrical version. When The Concorde aired on network television, nineteen minutes of additional footage was added.)

George Kennedy as Patroni.

On the plus side, George Kennedy--the only regular in all four Airport movies--gets promoted to a starring role. His character, Joe Patroni, also gets a promotion of sorts; he was a mechanic in Airport (1970) and now he's a Concorde pilot. He even gets a love scene with Bibi Andersson in addition to quipping lines like: "I'd love to see what my horoscope said this morning" (after evading the fighter jets). Incidentally, we learn that Mrs. Patroni (played by Susan Clark in Airport 1975) died in a car accident. In the expanded TV version, Jessica Walter plays Mrs. Patroni in flashback.

While the film's basic premise is sound enough, the plot is riddled with absurdities. After the Concorde is attacked twice en route to France, its owner (Eddie Albert) announces it will still fly to Moscow the next day. Susan Blakely's supposedly intelligent news reporter can't figure out that her boyfriend is trying to kill her. And Joe Patroni fires a flare out of an open cockpit window to attract a heat-seeking missile. I'm guessing that's impossible to do when flying a jet traveling twice the speed of sound.

The Concorde: Airport '79 bombed with audiences and critics. However, it holds a unique place in film history along with the 1980 made-for-TV movie The Golden Moment: An Olympic Love Story. Both films reference the United States' participation in the 1980 Summer Olympics in Moscow. Ultimately, the U.S. boycotted those Olympics because of the Soviet-Afghan War.

Drama Among the Country Club Set in "Banning"

Wagner as Mike Banning.

Banning (1967) often gets categorized as a golf movie--heck, it was even shown on the Golf Channel at one time. It does involve golfing, particularly during the climax, but the reality is that Banning is the equivalent of a big screen soap opera--and I mean that as a compliment. It's set at a posh Arizona country club whose members include a wily old millionaire, his lonely daughter and conniving son-in-law, a washed-up golf pro, a sultry hussy, and an attractive secretary. These people have settled into their roles at El Presidente until their lives are disrupted by the arrival of Mike Banning (Robert Wagner).

A former professional golfer with a shady past, Banning blackmails club member Jonathan Linus (Guy Stockwell) into hiring him as an assistant golf pro. The good-looking Banning attracts the attentions of Jonathan's ignored wife (Susan Clark) and a wealthy socialite (Jill St. John). However, he has set his sights on Carol Lindquist (Anjanette Comer), the club's secretary who harbors a few secrets of her own. His romantic pursuit of Carol is stifled by the arrival of a mob debt collector. It turns out that Banning owes $20,000 to an old pal whose gambling losses need to paid up or else!

Jill St. John.

If you temper your expectations, Banning is an entertaining lightweight drama that relies heavily on its cast. It's not that it's a particularly well-acted film, but rather its makers chose the right actors for each role. Robert Wagner made a career out of playing the handsome, likable guy with a bit of an edge. Jill St. John always fared best when playing exaggerated characters like Tiffany Case in Diamonds Are Forever. And Susan Clark seemed to specialize in playing strong, intelligent women who were not to be underestimated. Add in a mix of seasoned pros (e.g., Gene Hackman, Howard St. John) and promising young actors (James Farentino) and you've got 102 minutes of fun.

Susan Clark.

Banning was made in the late 1960s when Universal Studios was producing modestly-budgeted films with an eye toward television profits. Many of these pictures were headlined by TV veterans, such as Jack Lord (The Ride to Hangman's Tree), Don Knotts (The Reluctant Astronaut), and Doug McClure (The King's Pirate, a remake of Against All Flags). The studio even made a theatrical film based on its TV sitcom The Munsters (1966's Munster, Go Home!). Thus, it's not surprising that Banning is sometimes misidentified as a made-for-TV movie. (Hey, future spouses Robert Wagner and Jill St. John did star together in a made-for-TV movie that same year: the quirky How I Spent My Summer Vacation).

Make no mistake, though, that Banning was released to theaters--and it's got an Oscar nomination to show for it! Yes, the lovely Quincy Jones-Bob Russell composition "The Eyes of Love" was nominated for Best Original Song (losing to the inferior "Talk to the Animals" from Doctor Doolittle). It's apparent that Banning director Ron Winston knew he had a good song because "The Eyes of Love" is played throughout the movie. Jack Jones and Trini Lopez recorded cover versions of it and Quincy included it on his album You've Got It Bad Girl. However, here's the original version sung by Gil Bernard.

Of course, you could just watch Banning. It was a hard-to-see movie for many years, but fortunately my Twitter pal @CED_LD_Guy has uploaded Banning to his "Your Favorite Movies By Request" Rumble Channel. Rumble is similar to YouTube. To watch the movie, just sign up for a free account, log in, and click on this link.

Bette Davis as Madame Sin

A TV series centered around a Fu Manchu-like villainous played by the incomparable Bette Davis? That was the idea behind Madame Sin, a TV series pilot which aired in 1972 on the ABC Movie of the Weekend.

Executive producer Robert Wagner stars as Tony Lawrence, a disgruntled former intelligence agent kidnapped by Madame Sin's henchmen and transported to her fortress in the Scottish Highlands. Madame Sin tries to convince Tony to join her evil organization by showing him film footage of his girlfriend being tortured and killed as part of an American espionage plot. It works and pretty soon Tony is helping to abduct a submarine commander so his brain can be reprogrammed to steer his sub into Madame Sin's clutches.

Denholm Elliott.

Shot in England and Scotland, Madame Sin looks more expensive than most made-for-TV movies of the era. It also features a respectable cast, with the always reliable Denholm Elliott present as Madame Sin's right-hand man.

I suspect the producers wanted to recreate the tongue-in-cheek, gadget-laden approach of the Derek Flint films. But whereas those were sophisticated fare, Madame Sin veers closer to camp. Ms. Davis, decked out in layers of light-blue eye shadow and a large black wig, utters lines like: "You're a prisoner only if you think of yourself as one." Later, when Tony finally realizes he's been duped, he yells: "You're not a woman. You're a disease!" (I thought: "No, Tony, she is a woman and a whole lot smarter than you.")

Wagner as Tony Lawrence.

Madam Sin was released theatrically overseas, but stateside its television ratings weren't strong enough for it to become a regular series. Personally, given the ending (and no spoilers here!), I can't help but wonder what the producers were thinking. I cannot fathom an American television network in the early 1970s being bold enough to build a weekly series around a villain. I suppose one could argue that Dallas became just that in 1978, but even J.R. Ewing had more redeeming qualities than Madame Sin.

Before a decision has been made on the Madame Sin TV series, Bette Davis starred in another made-for-TV movies that also served as a pilot. The Judge and Jake Wyler boasted a more conventional premise with Bette playing a retired judge who becomes a private investigator. Her titular partner is an ex-con serving probation (Doug McClure). It wasn't picked up as a regular series either.

Ironically, Robert Wagner later played another character who would work for an evil villain bent on world domination. Yes, he starred as Dr. Evil's right-hand man, No. 2, in three of the Austin Powers movies.

Irwin Allen's City Beneath the Sea

Stuart Whitman as Admiral Matthews.

Shortly before The Poseidon Adventure revived his big screen career, producer Irwin Allen made this 1971 made-for-TV film about an underwater city called Pacifica. Set in 2053, it opens with the U.S. President (Richard Basehart) ordering former admiral Michael Matthews (Stuart Whitman) back to the submerged city to oversee the transport of the nation's gold from Fort Knox to Pacifica. Matthews' return is met with open hostility. Everyone blames him for the death of his friend Bill Holmes, especially Bill's bitter widow Lia (Rosemary Forsyth).

Rosemary Forsyth as Lia.

There's little time to cope with such emotions, though, as Matthews learns about a "planetoid" that's heading directly for Pacifica. Unknown to Matthews, his brother Brett (Robert Wagner) has been plotting to steal the nation's gold bullion as well as its supply of H-128, a valuable, radioactive source of highly-efficient energy. Brett sees the impending planetoid disaster as a perfect opportunity to adjust and implement his scheme.

The Flying Sub from Voyage.

Intended as the pilot for a new TV series, City Beneath the Sea borrows liberally from other Irwin Allen projects. The aircraft that Whitman and Robert Colbert use in the opening scenes is the Flying Sub from Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. Much of the equipment was recycled from Voyage and Lost in Space. Star Colbert was a regular on Allen's Time Tunnel TV series, as was supporting actor Whit Bissell and "special guest star" James Darren. In addition in Basehart, look quickly and you'll spot Bob Dowdell, who played Lieutenant Commander Chip Morton on Voyage.

Robert Wagner as the bad brother.

I'm not sure if City Beneath the Sea could have sustained itself as a weekly series, but the telefilm moves crisply and features plenty of action. Though Star Trek veteran John Meredyth Lucas wrote the screenplay, there's not a lot of depth to the characters. The most promising is Aguila (Burr DeBenning), a scientist with both gills and lungs. DeBenning later appeared as an underwater-breathing man again--though this time a villain--in Man From Atlantis.

Four-time Oscar winner L.B. Abbott supervised the spotty special effects. His work was no doubt hampered by the modest budget, but still good enough to earn the film a theatrical release in Great Britain.

City Beneath the Sea was Irwin Allen's second attempt to launch a TV series about an underwater city. He made a ten-minute clip in 1967 starring Glenn Corbett, Francine York, Lloyd Bochner, and a young James Brolin as Wild Bill Tyler. You can watch it on YouTube.


Here's a clip from City Beneath the Sea. You can view it full-screen on the Classic Film & TV Cafe's YouTube Channel. You can also stream the entire movie at warnerarchive.com.

Family Discord in Edward Dmytryk's "Broken Lance"

The 1954 Western Broken Lance is a curious film that is both overly familiar and more nuanced than it first appears.

Father Tracy and sons Holliman, O'Brien, Widmark, and Wagner.

The plot focuses on the friction between cattle baron Spencer Tracy and three of his four sons (Richard Widmark, Hugh O'Brien, and Earl Holliman). It'd be easy to paint the brotherly trio as the film's villains and youngest son Robert Wagner as the hero. But the reality is that Richard Widmark's bitter son is smarter than his father; he understands the necessity for change and embraces it. His father, meanwhile, adheres to doing business the same way as usual--by bulldozing his way through all obstacles.

Wagner (sporting a Fabian hair-do) and Tracy.

Adding to the family discord, Tracy favors youngest son Robert Wagner with the fatherly affection he denied the other three. They grew up as he was building his empire. They toiled alongside their then-widowed father from an early age, rarely earning even a word of praise. Thus, their acrimony is understandable to an extent and it's hard to fault them when they take advantage of their father's folly.

As for their younger sibling, he has his heart in the right place. However, he is also too eager to play the hero. When Wagner's character rashly takes the blame for his father's actions and winds up in prison, it's hard to feel sorry for him. He also seems too eager to play the martyr willing to take the punishment for his dead old dad.

Edward G. Robinson in House of Strangers.

Yet, while the family relationships hold one's attention for awhile, Broken Lance can't overcome a pervasive feeling of familiarity. Perhaps, that's because you've seen House of Strangers, a 1949 film noir written by Philip Yordan and starring Edward G. Robinson as the headstrong family patriarch and Richard Conte as the good brother.

Just five years later, Yordan transplanted the same plot to the Old West and won an Oscar for Best Writing, Motion Picture Story, for Broken Lance. Yes, he won an Oscar for a writing a story based on a screenplay written for a previous film! This gets even more interesting, because some reliable sources consider both films to be adapted from Jerome Weidman's 1941 novel I'll Never Go There Anymore. Of course, one could also argue the influence of Shakespeare's King Lear.

Tracy and Katy Jurado.

The strong cast--which also includes Jean Peters and Katy Jurado--fails to inject much-needed excitement. Spencer Tracy could play a take-charge cattle baron in his sleep. As his wife--the calm voice of reason--Jurado earned an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress.

Director Edward Dmytryk, whom I tend to associate with film noir (e.g., Cornered) and tight dramas, sets the action against some breathtaking vistas. He teamed with Tracy and Wagner again two years later for The Mountain.

This was his sixth film following his return to the U.S. in 1951 after four years overseas. He left the country after refusing to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) as one of the "Hollywood Ten." When Dmytryk returned to the States, he was arrested and served six months in a West Virginia prison before agreeing to name names before the HUAC in 1951. In his 1996 book Odd Man Out: A Memoir of the Holywood Ten, he explains his change of heart about testifying: "[If] I were going to be a martyr, I wanted the privilege of choosing my martyrdom. . . ."

I met Dmytryk in the late 1970s when he gave a guest lecture at Indiana University. He signed his name alongside the entry about him in my copy of The Filmgoer's Companion.

This post is part of the Classic Movie Blog Association's Banned and Blacklisted Blogathon. Check out all the entries on the blogathon schedule by clicking here.

Hart to Hart: Season One

“Natalie sells tickets. I sell soap.”

This is the reason that Robert Wagner gave to ABC executives for not wanting to co-star on television with his film star wife, Natalie Wood--they simply work in two different media. Although they couldn’t get the well-known female lead of Rebel Without a Cause on board, execs persisted with Wagner, asking him what sort of television show he’d like to do. Wagner mentioned his love of detective movies, particularly the Thin Man series with William Powell and Myrna Loy, and Hart to Hart was born.

Hart to Hart (1979-1984) is a detective show which follows a happily-married entrepreneur and his wife, who are also amateur sleuths in the greater Los Angeles area and beyond. It’s insane how often mysteries and murder happened wherever they go; they are proto-Jessica Fletcher. In the first season, the most frequent line from Jonathan Hart (Wagner) is: "He's dead.” Co-star Stephanie Powers plays Jennifer Hart, whose most frequent line is a scream--she’s often being kidnapped by some fiend so that Jonathan can save her in the last act. She may as well be lashed to a railroad tie as a man in black stands nearby twirling his waxed mustache. The plots are that ancient and simplistic.

Still, the Harts look gorgeous solving problems in evening attire and jewelry, so they get a pass. The rest of the country lines up for rationed gas, but the Harts fly around in their private jet to play high stakes poker in an airplane hangar in some part of the Middle East that looks suspiciously like L.A.’s backyard. Later in this season, California also doubles for Italy! But Wagner and Powers are likable--they would have to be to get away with even half of what they are asked to do.

In season one, the best all around episode, bar none, is “Downhill to Death.” It’s a location shoot outside of L.A. for once --it’s in Vail, among lovely flurries of actual snow. The costuming is tasteful as always. Casting is great. And the script--oh, that beautiful, relatively complicated script!--contains plenty of twists so that you think you know who is doing what to whom and why, but you’re absolutely wrong.

Hart is populated with many brilliant guest stars, including those from the classic movies era. Roddy McDowall and Stella Stevens are cast as villains at a health spa in the pilot episode (written and directed by Tom Mankiewicz). Jeremy Brett plays a sinister character who is after Jennifer’s antique car. It’s also great to see newer talents. Jameson Parker--who would later play one half of the title characters in Simon & Simon (1981)--makes an appearance as a college student bent on mayhem.

The first season of Hart to Hart has its good points: decent production values, stylish costumes and an amiable cast to wear them. However, one just cannot get over the run-of-the-mill scripts. (Let’s not even mention the pervasive puns.) Perhaps the plots get better in the second season. Until then, let’s distract ourselves with something positive.

Did I mention that the people look good? They do.


Written by Java, a Cafe guest contributor, who blogs regularly at Java's Journey.