A Cruel World, A Crueler Man in "Kiss Me Deadly"

Robert Aldrich's Kiss Me Deadly (1955) opens with a woman's bare feet sprinting on an apparently deserted road. The woman, Christina (Cloris Leachman, in her film debut), stands in front of an approaching vehicle. Gumshoe Mike Hammer (Ralph Meeker) swerves his car to avoid hitting her, and he reluctantly agrees to take her to the bus station. On the way, Christina tells Mike that, should they not make their destination, he needs to do one thing for her: "Remember me," she ominously states. Suddenly, they are forced off the road, and a semi-conscious Mike later sees a congregation of feet, while hearing Christina being tortured and killed. The dazed P.I. and the woman's body are put into Mike's car and pushed down a cliff.

Mike Hammer awakens in the hospital and is subsequently questioned by the police. The private eye, who specializes in divorce cases, soon has people asking about him, following him, and idly threatening him. Cops and criminals alike think that Mike is withholding pertinent information, and after having his private investigator's license and gun permit revoked, he tells his secretary and lover, Velda (Maxine Cooper), to forget the cheating spouses so that they can focus solely on "something big." And what everyone seems to be after is indeed big, bigger than Mike could ever anticipate.
Kiss Me Deadly was based on a novel of the same name by Mickey Spillane, featuring his immensely popular character. Reportedly, screenwriter A.I. Bezzerides, who adapted the book, had such aversion for the source text that the film ultimately took a dim view to Mike Hammer, turning him into a rather vile and despicable character. When initially interrogated, Mike refuses to talk, and the cops seem disgusted by him, asking him questions and patronizing him by "answering" on his behalf. When the gumshoe leaves, one of the men vindictively states, "Open a window." This is a man who knocks someone down a long flight of steps and smirks as he watches him roll down, a vicious person who clearly takes pleasure in slamming an uncooperative man's fingers in a desk drawer. He's the definitive antihero. He drowns the world out with loud classical music and screens his phone calls.

There are so many twists and turns in this film that it feels like constant movement. The first shot of Kiss Me Deadly is, appropriately, running feet. There's a distinct impression that Mike is running from place to place, hoping to be two steps ahead of everyone but more accurately having trouble keeping up. The concept of momentum is a significant component of the movie. Mike tries to identify Christina's killers by shoes, the deceased woman is equated with her roommate, Lilly (Gaby Rodgers), as she is likewise introduced with bare feet, and when Mike is taken captive, he is knocked unconscious and dragged (on a beach, as his feet leave a trail), and he is bound by feet and hands.

Mike moves forward with the investigation, and the villains want to stop him. His first car is wrecked, and he is "given" a second car with an explosive surprise. Other people have been killed in "accidents" involving vehicles. It's fitting that one of Mike's only friends is Nick (Nick Dennis), an auto mechanic whose catchphrase is, "Va-va-voom!" He's essentially an antithesis to the villains, wanting to fix what they wish to destroy.

With this in mind, the film's title can take on multiple connotations. A superficial view would associate the "kiss" with succumbing to the affection of the opposite sex, letting down your guard and opening yourself to a lethal reciprocation. But it can also refer to what Mike himself calls "the sweet little kiss off," an acknowledgment of death or, more specifically, the very thing which kills you. This gives deeper meaning to a warning provided by Velda: "Keep away from the windows. Somebody might blow you a kiss." Most notably, however, Kiss Me Deadly is a recognition of both good and bad, that sex ultimately leads to violence, as the two go hand in hand. Perhaps the film's quintessential shot is Lilly lying in bed, adorned in a robe and pointing a gun at the door.
Aldrich's film is abundant in atmosphere and style. Furthermore it's surprisingly violent, some of it even by today's standards. The majority of the violence's impact is not from the presentation itself but rather the callous way in which Mike dishes it out. Ralph Meeker has incredible presence, making Mike Hammer the type of character who makes a viewer feel both unassailable and anxious. At one point, Mike is shadowed by a stranger. The P.I. spots him almost immediately and seems to enjoy the moments preceding the inevitable attack. When the stranger pulls a switchblade, Mike forces him to drop the knife with the greatest of ease, before knocking him around and slamming his head against a building several times. It takes an extraordinarily cruel protagonist to make an audience sympathize with a man whose intent was to literally stab someone in the back.

The thing that everyone wants -- what Velda calls "the great whatsit" -- will likely be a surprise for anyone who hasn't seen the film (and hopefully hasn't been told how the film ends). Kiss Me Deadly continues its winding plot all the way to the closing credits, creating one of the grandest and most gleefully erratic cinematic endings of all time. Interestingly, for years the film's conclusion was truncated and left a couple of characters' fates in question. More recent copies of the film (the DVD, for instance) have the original ending intact.
Kiss Me Deadly is a solid entry in the film noir genre. Mike Hammer in Mickey Spillane's novels was a driven man, taken to seeking his own brand of justice; just look at some of the titles -- I, the Jury, Vengeance is Mine, etc. But Aldrich's cinematic Hammer is much more brutally simplistic. He just wants the payoff, indifferent to the people he hurts or kills, ignoring the police's requests for information, etc. In the end, it's impossible to tell if Mike wants to solve the mystery, if he's still hoping for monetary compensation, or if he's merely going through the motions. Such an enigmatic and unlikeable character within a baffling plot makes Kiss Me Deadly a beautifully complex and highly recommended feature.

Clash by Night (1952) - Noir or Noir-ish

There is an ongoing debate regarding the status of Clash by Night as a true representative of the film noir genre. It does not have a crime at its core; however there is the lingering threat of an explosion of violence from one or more of the characters. It is effectively filmed in black and white by noir veteran cinematographer Nicholas Mucurasa, and directed by the legendary Fritz Lang, who took three superb actors and drew from them performances crackling with frustration, self-loathing, disappointment, desperation, the aching need for and the paralyzing fear of love. The film is based on a play by Clifford Odets, which appeared on Broadway in 1941.






This story centers around the character of Mae Doyle (Barbara Stanwyck), who has come home to the small fishing village of Monterey California after years on the East Coast where she was involved with a married politician until his death. He provided for her in his will, but it was successfully contested by his family and she returns reluctantly to what essentially is the only place she can go. She is not exactly welcomed with open arms by her fisherman brother (Keith Andes), but is warmly accepted by his girlfriend Peggy (Marilyn Monroe). Mae has escaped the asphyxiating and restrictive bonds of her hometown, seeking a more independent and perhaps unacceptable existence where she could follow her own instincts and desires. Happiness is not part of her vocabulary, but confidence is a major factor in her search for security. She needs a man who will give her confidence in herself and love does not necessarily play a part in this equation.

Still beautiful and alluring, Mae is courted by the simple, kind, goodhearted fisherman, Jerry who has fallen in love with her. He wants to marry her, although she warns him off, telling him that she will be no good for him and will ultimately hurt him. But Jerry is persistent and Mae starts to imagine that she could change, that domestic life would not be the locked cage that she imagines it to be. At the same time she's introduced to Jerry's best friend Earl, a drunken, woman hating, sexually charged and potentially violent man who works as a projectionist in the local theater. When they meet, the chemistry starts percolating immediately. Jerry is totally oblivious to this attraction between Mae and his best friend and he continues to have Earl in his life not knowing how combustible the situation is. Mae realizes she's made a mistake almost from the beginning and that Jerry's bearlike physical appearance of strength does not guarantee that he will be the one to keep her safe and inspire her with confidence. Mae has a child with Jerry, but this does not solidify the relationship and she is once again beset by a sense of imprisonment in the domestic life she has chosen with Jerry. It is almost painful to watch Mae conforming to the domestic duties of a housewife, hanging sheets. washing blouses, even her interaction with her child. Clearly she is not ready for this way of life.

Ultimately there is an eruption of violent passion between Mae and Earl. The intensity of their kisses seems almost brutal in their need to satisfy the raging sensual hunger that consumes them both, most particularly when Mae places her hand beneath Earl's undershirt, flesh against flesh, in an attempt to intensify the electric current coursing through them. Earl begs Mae to run off with him, declaring that he can't live without her and vowing to become whatever she wants him to be in order to please her; however, these entreaties have a sinister undertone of power and control not associated with the love that he professes. Jerry still pathetically unaware of the betrayal going on around him is finally enlightened by the innuendos of his uncle Vince, a man who bears a grudge against Mae. in a manner eerily reminiscent of Iago's deadly whispers to Othello about Desdemona. Jerry confronts the couple and Mae admits that she is going away with Earl. Jerry is profoundly disgusted by their actions, referring to them as animals who should be kept in cages away from human beings. Emotionally devastated, he storms out of the room. Vince continues his vitriolic rantings about Mae to a drunken and vulnerable Jerry, whose gentle demeanor is ruptured by an uncontrollable rage that leads him to nearly strangle Earl, in another reference to Othello.

When Mae returns to her home she finds her baby girl missing from her crib and realizes that Jerry has taken her. The shock of this situation forces Mae to acknowledge that the intensity of her relationship with Earl would burn out quickly and she opts for a safe life with Jerry. She seeks him out in an attempt to gain his forgiveness and redeem herself in his eyes. In spite of all the pain Mae has inflicted on him, Jerry is willing to take her back and thus offers her the redemption she seeks.

Barbara Stanwyck gives one of her finest performances as Mae, delivering lines in the natural and unadulterated fashion that made her one of the great screen actresses. Odets' dialogue becomes on-target, rapid machine-gun fire in the hands of this most talented actress. Robert Ryan, one of our great underrated film actors, perfectly embodies the brutal code of life by which Earl lives. As Jerry, Paul Douglas, an experienced stage actor, is a revelation capturing all aspects of Jerry's emotional roller coaster, from naive and trusting soul to a murderous husband scorned. Director Fritz Lang utilized the elements of film noir in his dazzling camerawork and lighting and guides his actors to believably natural performances, never removing them from the realities of the emotional anguish that permeates their everday lives.

Defining this film as genuine or faux noir does not diminish my reaction to its honest portrayal of complex characters trying to find a way to defeat the various demons that possess them and still manage to emerge from that battle with enough strength and hope to continue the search for that elusive defense tactic that will finally give them peace.

Forget the noir debate and see one of the finest films of the fifties, compelling, brilliantly directed and photographed, with superb unflinching performances which lay bare the self-inflicted wounds of failed attempts to live life according to one's own rules, no matter whose "throat is cut" during the process.

Dick Powell Portrays a Man Consumed by Vengeance in the Film Noir Classic "Cornered"

Warning: This review contains plot spoilers.

This sharp, downbeat post-World War II revenge tale reteamed director Edward Dmytryk and star Dick Powell, who had scored a hit with the previous year's better-known Murder, My Sweet. That film, adapted from Raymond Chandler's Farewell My Lovely, transformed Powell from a musical-comedy leading man into a wisecracking, cynical private detective. While that film evolved into a genre classic, the lesser-known Cornered has garnered the attention of film noir fans who recognized it a thematic predecessor to lavishly-praised movies like The Third Man.

Powell plays another world-weary character on the trail of a murderer in Cornered. As Lieutenant Laurence Gerard, he provides an intense portrait of an unstable man whose war scars and pent-up grief have eaten away the normalcy in his life. The only thing that keeps him alive is his obsession to avenge his wife's death.

The opening scenes are filled with background information. We quickly learn that pilot Gerard was shot down over France during the war. After being rescued by Resistance fighters, he married a local girl named Celeste. The couple was forced to part after 20 days of happiness--he subsequently became a prisoner of war and she was executed by a French fascist leader named Marcel Jarnac (Luther Adler).

After the war, the discharged Gerard returns to the ruins of his wife's village. Celeste's father tells Gerard that Jarnac is officially listed as deceased. But he believes that the ruthless killer, whom none of the villagers ever saw, staged his death and escaped. Gerard, his emotional emptiness temporarily replaced with vengeance, begins his relentless quest for Jarnac.

Dick Powell as Gerard.

He ingeniously tracks the "dead" man's widow to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and finds a city populated by opportunists, European castaways, war criminals, and a handful of people seeking to expose the lingering threat of fascism. This latter group tries to get Gerard to join them in exposing Jarnac, but he insists on setting his own trap. Unfortunately, Gerard's plans backfire and he finds himself at the opposite end of the fascist leader's pistol in an abandoned dock warehouse. But before Jarnac can kill his adversary, Gerard attacks him and beats him viciously. When the anti-fascist group arrives at the scene, it finds a disoriented Gerard rambling about how he could have killed Jarnac, but didn't. However, a quick examination of the body reveals that Gerard literally beat Jarnac to death with his bare hands. The anti-fascists encourage Gerard to escape, but he chooses to face criminal charges and provide the means for exposing other war criminals in Argentina.

The brutality of the ending is unexpected for an American film of the 1940s. After all, Gerard executes Jarnac without a trial by punching him repeatedly in the head. Screenwriter John Paxton tries to justify Gerard's act by showing Jarnac's ruthlessness in the same scene. After killing a former accomplice, Jarnac shoots the man six more times and remarks casually: "That face will be difficult to recognize now." Dmytryk also softens the impact of Gerard's brutality by dissolving from the beating to a shot of the emotionally-unbalanced Gerard holding his head in his hands--completely unaware of the deadly nature of his act of violence.

Writer Paxton and actor Powell create a convincing character in Gerard, although the occasional wisecracks seem more appropriate for a private eye than a revenge-minded husband. Still, for the most part, the script provides Powell with strong material. When an attractive woman shows an unsubtle interest in Gerard, he tells her about his wife: "I can't remember exactly what she looked like. War does something to your memory. You forget the way people look and remember the important things. That kind of remembering keeps you warm on cold nights."

Powell and Walter Slezak.

Powell receives excellent support from Walter Slezak, perfectly cast as Melchoir Incza, who introduces himself as a "professional guide" (though he adds: "Not a tourist guide in the strictest sense"). Slezak employs craftiness and charm to keep the true nature of his opportunistic character unknown for most of his screen time.

Cornered holds up surprisingly well today, working as both a tense revengeful tale and a reminder of the painful healing which was necessary following World War II (making it similar, in that sense, to The Third Man). It's a shame that Powell, Slezak and Dmytryk did not team up for another film. But just two years later, Dmytryk was called before the House Committee on Un-American Activities and branded as one of the "Hollywood Ten"--a label which caused him to flee the U.S. for Great Britain. Ironically, that same year, he received an Oscar nomination for directing Crossfire.

This Week's Poll: What's your favorite movie about nuns?

There have been a number of memorable films about nuns or featuring nuns in prominent roles. This week's poll has narrowed the nominations for "favorite movie about nuns" down to a list of just seven films. I am sure some readers will take issue with which films were included and which were omitted. But before those discussions begin, let's peruse the seven films vying for your vote this week:

Black Narcissus - This Powell & Pressberger masterpiece stars Deborah Kerr as a nun sent to a remote village in the Himalayas to start a hospital and a school. A thematically rich film, it features brilliant performances and is enhanced by the most glorious color photography ever captured on celluloid.

Lilies of the Field - A group of German nuns in a small Arizona town convince a wanderer (Sidney Poitier) to do a roof repair—which eventually results in him building a chapel for them. Yes, Poitier won the Oscar for this and he’s terrific—but he’s matched by Lilia Skala as the Mother Superior. The language difference is the source of much unexpected humor. This is a lovely little film about faith and perseverance.

The Bells of St. Mary’s - Bing Crosby recreated his Oscar-winning role as Father O’Malley (“Just dial ‘O’ for O’Malley”) in this sequel to Going My Way. But this film belongs to Ingrid Bergman, who anchors it with her captivating, warm performance as Sister Mary Benedict. It’s an incredibly natural performance and her climatic scene with Crosby may be Ingrid’s finest moment on film.

Come to the Stable - Loretta Young and Celeste Holm play French nuns who settle in the New England town of Bethlehem with the goal of building a children’s hospital—but they have no money, no land, and no one to help. A charming film that works its magic in subtle ways, even if the outcome is never in doubt.

The Nun’s Story - Aubrey Hepburn gives one of her best performances in this tale of the hardships faced by a young nun. The heart of the film takes place in the Belgian Congo, where Sister Luke assists a physician (Peter Finch) in treating lepers. However, it’s the opening and closing scenes that linger the longest with me.

The Sound of Music - It’s easy to dismiss this film as a solid adaptation of the Broadway smash with an engaging performance by Julie Andrews. But the film was a culture phenomenon in the 1960s, revived the musical for a few years, and played for months in some cities (in my hometown, one theatre ran it for a year!).

The Trouble With Angels - Rosalind Russell plays Mother Superior of a girls’ boarding girl and Haley Mills is on hand as the resident troublemaker. It’s episodic, but always pleasant and the closing scene (though not unexpected) is a great touch.

As always, the requirement to keep the nominees to a reasonable number means that good movies need to be left out. This week's omissions include: Song of Bernadette, Bedazzled (Dudley Moore as a nun), The Singing Nun, and Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison.

Feel free to highlight any other notable nun films by leaving a comment. In the meantime, please cast your vote for one of the seven nominees in the green sidebar on the right.

Trivia Time - Part 40

Wow, can it be true? This is the 40th edition of Trivia Time? How time flies. This week will be a little different, so you have been warned!

Who Am I #1. Though I'm known for more than acting, I've been in a few films. I've worked with Bogart, Jane Russell, Vincent Price, and Dana Andrews, among others. Who Am I ?

#1. Who am I and Dana made two films together. Name them.

#2. Who were the directors?

Who Am I #2. My first film was as "a standiin" in the silent flim Way Down East. I worked in film and TV and my last film was in 1966. I've worked with among others, James Stewart, Jane Russell, Clif,f Robertson, Lionel Barrymore Brain Keith, and Elvis. Who Am I ?

#3.Who did I Stand in for in Way Down East?

#4. Besides Marilyn Monroe, who are the two female co-stars in The Seven Year Itch?

# 5 What was the film Tom Ewell did with Tyrone Power? How was he "billed"?

#6. In the 20th Century-Fox film The Kid from Left Field , who played "The Kid"?

Who Am I #3. I've done both film and TV. I've worked with Anne Bancroft, Gary Cooper, Dan Dailey, Robert Stack, Tony Bill, Bogart, and Dana Andrews among others. Who Am I ?

#7. What classic low-budget early 50's Sci Fi film was Who Am I #3 in?

#8. What two future huge TV stars have parts in the film The Kid from Left Field?

#9. What were the names of their shows?

#10. What classic Film Noir did Delmer Davis direct? Who were the stars?

Trivia Time Part 39 - The Answers

Here are the rest of this weeks answers. Becky, you did pretty good. Rick thought his answers where right, but were not what I was looking for.

#4. Becky, you left off Buddy Ebsen from the cast of Night People.

#7. Becky, John Huston was the director of We Were Strangers.

#8. Who Am I is John Ridgely.

#9. The three films are Air Force, Destination Tokyo, and The Pride Of the Marines.

#10. Howard Hawks directed Air Force and one of Rick's favorites, Delmer Daves, directed the other two.

See you all on Sunday.

The Dark Side of Obsession: Laura

Machiavelli wrote that “it is better to be feared than to be loved.” The title character of this film should have read more about political philosophy and less about fashion. Too many people just loved her to death…or at least tried.

A classic psychological film noir, Laura is one of the best films Otto Preminger ever made. Yet, the plot of Laura seems quite simple when you compare it to the behind the scenes plot that unfolded daily at 20th Century Fox. First Preminger was to direct; then studio head Darryl Zanuck fired him and replaced him with Rouben Mamoulian. Then Mamoulian was fired (nothing new for him) and Preminger was rehired. Then they argued over the cast. Zanuck wanted John Hodiak to play Detective McPherson and Preminger wanted Dana Andrews. Zanuck also tried to put the nix on Clifton Webb (who ended up being nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar) and first-time cinematographer Joseph LaShelle (who won the film’s only Academy Award for his photography), who replaced Lucien Ballard after Mamoulian was fired. In the end, Preminger won most of the battles and his film garnered five Academy Award nominations, including Best Director, Best Art Direction (Lyle R. Wheeler, Leland Fuller, and Thomas Little), and Best Screenplay (adapted from the Vera Caspary novel of the same name by Jay Dratler, Samuel Hoffenstein and Betty Reinhardt).

There are many elements that make this a prime example of a film noir. Parasitic and morally bankrupt characters run (well-heeled) rampant through the posh drawing rooms of New York City while an unconventional detective tries to unravel the sordidness of it all. There is a chilling theme song, “Laura” (which was inspired by a Dear John letter that composer David Raksin’s wife left him), that is unforgettable. And then there is the pristine black and white cinematography of LaShelle, which incorporates both shadows and an ethereal essence. And to top it all off, you have some of sharpest and outright acidic dialogue ever imagined. All of these elements combined make it one of the best film noirs ever.

The film opens with that haunting theme song and a shot of an even more haunting portrait of a woman we soon learn, via voiceover by society columnist Waldo Lydecker (Clifton Webb), was named Laura Hunt (Gene Tierney in a role turned down by both Jennifer Jones and Hedy Lamarr)—was being the key word, as she is now dead (sort of). After waxing poetic in his bathtub about his relationship with the recently murdered beauty, Lydecker invites Detective McPherson (Dana Andrews) in for a friendly chat, where Lydecker nominates himself as the most logical sidekick in hunting down the murderer (even if he himself is a suspect!).

Next suspect: Laura’s rich, spinster Aunt Anne Treadwell (Judith Anderson). We soon learn that Aunt Anne has a thing for Laura’s would-be fiancée Shelby Carpenter (Vincent Price), a Southern gentleman who deposits a lot of checks with the the aunt’s name on them. A classic line from Lydecker suggests the proper aunt lost money playing craps, but it is quite obvious to the audience that she pays for Shelby’s favors. On cue, Shelby enters and is insulted by Lydecker, who reveals that Laura was rethinking “throwing her life away on a male beauty in distress.” Thoroughly insulted (and insinuated as yet another suspect), Shelby accompanies Lydecker and McPherson to Laura’s apartment. At the deceased’s residence we find two identical items from Lydecker’s apartment in Laura’s apartment: a grandfather clock and that eerie portrait of Laura.

Later, Lydecker and McPherson head off to dine at Waldo and Laura’s special table, where Lydecker reminisces (via flashback) of happier days. They’d met five years earlier when career-minded Laura had asked him to endorse a pen promoted by her advertising agency. At first he had snubbed her, but then he changed his mind and not only endorsed the pen but decided to make her his protégé. From that point on, Lydecker was in the business of molding Laura into the most unforgettable woman ever. The problem was he didn’t want to share her with anyone, so if someone came into the picture he got rid of them. First, it was the portrait painter Jacoby, whose artistic talent (or lack thereof) Lydecker ridiculed in his column. Then, there was Shelby, who Lydecker found utterly reprehensible and suggested to Laura that she look into his background before marrying him. It was soon revealed that Shelby was a cad of the first order, carrying on an affair with Diane Redfern, a model at the agency, and also cozying up to Aunt Anne. Soon after these revelations, Laura decided to go to her country home to reconsider her marriage plans. Alas, it was the last time Lydecker heard her voice.

Back at Laura’s apartment, McPherson encounters the maid, Bessie Clary (Dorothy Adams), who reveals she found a cheap bottle of whiskey in Laura’s bedroom the night she was killed. He also encounters the gruesome threesome who have come to determine what belongs to whom. Lydecker wants a few things back that he “lent” Laura: an antique fire screen, a “priceless” vase, and the same grandfather clock he already has in his own apartment.

As time passes, McPherson, who has taken to sulking in Laura’s apartment alone, starts to become obsessed with the portrait. On one of his many visits, Lydecker accuses the detective of falling in love with a dead woman and predicts that he’s headed for the asylum. Oh, but wait…she’s not dead, as we and the detective soon learn when she returns to her apartment one stormy night to find a strange man asleep in a chair next to her portrait. She is surprised to learn that she is dead, since she seems to be still breathing. Evidently the face that had been blown off by the shotgun wasn’t hers. But whose was it? Well, when Laura finds one of Diane Redfern’s dresses in her closet the obvious choice seems to become clear. Now, Laura is a suspect for the murder of Diane. McPherson orders Laura not to contact anyone, but like any “dame” she does the opposite and calls Shelby. This tips McPherson off to the fact that Shelby might be the killer and he follows him to Laura’s country home, where he finds him with a shotgun in his hands. Shelby admits that he took Diane to Laura’s apartment to break it off, but that he was out of the room when the doorbell rang. Whoever was at the door Diane answered was the killer.

The next day at Laura’s apartment, Lydecker is in for a shock when he finds Laura alive and well. It’s such a terrible shock that he faints straight away. Soon after being revived a party is planned, where all the depraved guests suspect one another of murder. Yet, only one is arrested: Laura. Escorted to the police station by McPherson (who is obviously obsessed with having her to himself), Laura finds herself given the standard bright light interrogation. The problem is McPherson only wants to find out if Laura is in love with Shelby. Really!!! Once he ascertains that she’s not, they leave. Really!!! The lighting in this scene is marvelous and conveys oodles about both McPherson and Laura’s motivations. First, the use of the two bright lights spotlight the intense beauty of Laura. Then, after the lights are turned off, Gene Tierney just seems to glow.

While McPherson is checking out Lydecker’s apartment and finally realizing that the grandfather clock in Laura’s own apartment might hold the murder weapon, Laura is being verbally reprimanded by Lydecker in her apartment for her possible attraction to the detective. So, when the detective arrives at her apartment and Laura gives Lydecker the heave-ho, Lydecker is politely furious. When he leaves the apartment he casts a large shadow on the wall—foreboding? As soon as Lydecker’s gone, McPherson checks Laura’s clock and finds the gun. Setting off to arrest Lydecker, McPherson leaves Laura with a kiss and tells her to get some sleep. Believing the detective gone, Lydecker (who has been hiding in the hallway) creeps back into the apartment to murder Laura. For some reason, the detective put the gun back in the clock! Anyway, as he’s reloading the gun he hears his own voice on Laura’s radio; it’s his broadcast on History’s Great Lovers. With the cops beating down the door, Lydecker points the gun at Laura and says they will be together forever…fortunately for Laura she has good reflexes and she deflects the gun as it goes off. What I find particularly odd about what transpires after the police fatally wound Lydecker is that Laura runs to his side to console him. Really? This man has tried to kill you twice and you run to him? Anyway, with Lydecker’s dying words, “Goodbye, Laura. Goodbye, my love” and another haunting still shot of the Laura portrait the film ends.

The story itself is marvelous. You have a case of mistaken identity with the murder and the shocking reappearance of the murder victim. I would have liked to have been in the audience when Gene Tierney turned that light on back in 1944—I’m sure it startled some.

Besides the wonderful plot, you have a no-nonsense detective who becomes obsessed with his beautiful dead victim and a whole cast of venomous creatures. The callousness of Judith Anderson’s Aunt Anne is both appalling and delightful to watch. Vincent Price’s interpretation of a Southern ladies man is quite comical. Gene Tierney plays the femme fatale well by exuding an icy coolness that just scorches the screen at times. And, when it comes to Clifton Webb, it is difficult to believe this was his first sound film. Webb is just delightful as a bitter, homosexual who hates all masculine men and will stop at nothing to keep them away from his Laura. There are many ways to look at his obsession with Laura. Personally, I think he created her to be the woman he wished he could be (his other self) and didn’t want anyone to come between them because he would be separated from his one true love: his feminine self. But that’s just my theory, I’m sure you have your own. Whatever may be the case, this is a classic film noir.

Rick and Sark Discuss the Hammer Thriller, "The Snorkel" (1958)

Plot Overview: On holiday from a British boarding school, Candy Brown (Mandy Miller) visits her mother and stepfather at their villa in a Italian coastal town. To her shock, Candy learns that her mother has committed suicide by sealing herself in a room and turning on the gas. Candy immediately suspects foul play, but the police inspector insists that's impossible: the servants found Candy's mother in a locked room completely sealed from the inside. The young woman remains unconvinced. She believes the murderer is her stepfather Paul (Peter Van Eyck). As a girl, Candy claimed that she saw Paul drown her father. No one believed Candy then and no one believes her now, not even her companion, Jean (Betta St. John). It appears that Paul has a perfect alibi. And besides, as the inspector pointed out, how could murder be committed inside a locked room?

Rick: Hi, Sark. The first time The Snorkel was on TCM, I saw only the beginning and I know you saw only the end. So, I was thrilled when it was released as part of the Hammer Films Icons of Suspense Collection. Now that we've each watched it, we can discuss the whole movie. I decided that this film features my favorite pre-title sequence of all time. I remember watching it the first time and thinking: "What in the world is this guy doing?" When I figured it out, I was initially shocked and then intrigued. It's deviously clever!

Sark: As you said, I initially saw only the final third of the film. It was intriguing, and I was surprised to see that it was a Hammer production because I'd previously not heard of it. Going back and watching the movie from the beginning, I was a little disappointed, since I knew what was happening. But for someone who's watching The Snorkel for the first time, the opening would have been a bit of a shock. For the first few minutes, you're just trying to decipher what's being shown to you. It's a splendid way to pique interest. A number of Hammer films open in a similar manner. Even some of the Frankenstein movies open with the doctor working, and you may know the doctor but really don't know what he's doing, where he is, if he is close to completing an experiment, etc.

Rick: That's a good point, Sark. I recently watched the 1963 Hammer picture Cash on Demand, which opens with an unusual "introduction" to a bank. It's not nearly as gripping as The Snorkel, though. Still, The Snorkel has more going for it than a spiffy opening. I was intrigued by its structure...which is almost Hitchcockian. I mean we know who was murdered, how, and by whom. There are no surprises. The suspense is generated by the cat-and-mouse game between two of the characters.
Sark: Hitchcockian, indeed. I like that the snorkel of the title is essentially explained at the beginning, but it can truly be incorporated into the whole of the film. And like a Hitch film such as Vertigo (released the same year), you can look at the title superficially (Jimmy Stewart is afflicted with vertigo), but it can also be viewed on a thematic level (Jimmy's relationship, his entire life is in vertigo, it seems). Without giving anything away, since a snorkel helps a person breathe, that's what it must be like for Candy. The girl feels alone because no one believes her, and if such is the case, then will anyone be able to protect her? Such pressure can make a person short of breath.

Rick: I think you're on to something. A snorkel also conceals its user, who swims just below the surface of the water but is not necessarily visible. That's an apt description of Paul, who cruises under the surface of the events around him -- skillfully avoiding giving too much away about himself. From the viewer perspective, that makes him a prime suspect and we soon start to think that Candy is right about his homicidal tendencies. Hmm...that analogy may be a stretch...but I still like it.

Sark: No, that's a very good analogy. And we can take that metaphorical snorkel and say this: With Paul apparently having the upper hand, it's as if he has the snorkel and is watching Candy drown. But the girl isn't completely helpless. She may be on her own, but she can save herself. There are many ways to prevent her "drowning," many ways to make people pay attention and see that something is amiss. And Paul's plan, like any plan, isn't foolproof. Eventually, he'll have to remove the snorkel and expose himself. Then it's simply a matter of who between the man and girl is the most believable.

Rick: Nice! Hey, what did you think of the performances? I thought Mandy Miller was very believable as Candy. My spouse looked her up and learned that she played several film characters named Mandy (and, of course, Candy). Her most acclaimed performance was as a deaf-mute girl in Mandy (aka Crash of Silence), one of those movies I've always wanted to see...but haven't.

Sark: I thought the performances were good overall, with Mandy Miller a standout. Peter van Eyck had a great look -- he was sometimes outright creepy -- but his portrayal of Paul was a little too stiff. That didn't necessarily affect the character, but the actor came across as a bit theatrical. Aside from the peculiar plot and Miller's performance, did you notice any other distinguishing characteristics of this movie?
Rick: Well, I'm always a sucker for an atmospheric seaside setting. The beach scene, by the way, was one of my favorites. After Mandy accuses Paul of trying to drown her, she pauses and then asks if she can still have the snorkel in his room. I thought that a very natural, impulsive mistake for a young person to make. Mandy would have been better off, of course, either keeping quiet about the alleged drowning or just hurrying back to the hotel to steal the snorkel. What about you? Any final thoughts on The Snorkel?

Sark: The Snorkel isn't the best movie produced by Hammer Films, but it's undoubtedly a gem. A good number of the Hammer thrillers were rich in atmosphere, as you pointed out in this film. They were not unlike Val Lewton movies, e.g. Cat People (1942). But the Hammer thrillers, such as Paranoiac (1963) and The Nanny (1965), also thrived on strong characters and wickedly insane plot twists. The Snorkel is the same, and it makes for repeated viewings. What says you?

Rick: I couldn't agree more. I'd rate The Snorkel a notch below The Nanny, but I strongly recommend it. This was a great discussion; I really enjoyed your insights. Any more coffee left in the pot? I think the Cafe oughta provide some free samples...I could get into a hot, fresh croissant right now.
Sark: I'll skip that croissant in favor of another cup of coffee. Thanks, Rick. Next time, we'll do a Top 5 List of our favorite Hammer thrillers!

... If You Can Find Them, Maybe You Can Hire "The A-Team"

Tomorrow, June 11th, will see the release of the big budget, big screen remake of the classic TV series, The A-Team. If you've seen the trailers, you might notice that much of the focus is on the characters, as each individual member of the titular team is spotlighted, allowing any appraisal of a probable storyline to fall by the wayside. This is likely the best way in which to market the film. The original series, created by Frank Lupo and Stephen J. Cannell, thrived on the characters, their nuances, their peculiarities, and their sometimes predictable behavior. Every week, a voice-over would reintroduce audiences to these four men, telling their back story of how they were imprisoned for a crime they did not commit. After their escape, they took jobs to help the everyday man, those less fortunate who can find support nowhere else. Each actor receives his credit, but this was really just another way to showcase the characters, with clips displaying their abilities and mannerisms. The title said it all: it was about the A-Team. If you've never made their acquaintances, here they are:

Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith (George Peppard): He is the highest ranking officer of the team, and the leader. With an ever-present cigar, Hannibal devises the team's plans, most of which either fail miserably or don't quite turn out as one would hope. However, the colonel excels under pressure, and his backup plans -- typically created out of sheer necessity and/or threat of incarceration or death -- are more often than not solid strategies with favorable conclusions, leading to Hannibal's catchphrase, "I love it when a plan comes together." Hannibal is also a master of disguise, and he will frequently meet with clients masquerading as someone else, to ensure that the person's story and situation is legitimate. The colonel's second "job," if you will, is related to his disguises, with appearances in low budget horror films, hiding inside the costume of a monster.

Lieutenant Templeton "Faceman" Peck (Dirk Benedict): Faceman, most often called "Face," earned his nickname for a basic reason: he's the conman, the "face" that most people -- usually the ladies -- prefer to see. Face could supply the team with all types of things, including vehicles, weaponry, equipment, or simply information. And Peck was able to obtain such supplies with his conning finesse, such as literally talking a particular person into letting him take three or four large trucks. It's perhaps quite apparent that Face's most important asset to the team is his good looks. This leads to many amusing sequences of scuffles, as Face -- although a skilled fighter -- tries desperately to avoid getting hit in his namesake. (Tim Dunigan played Face in the show's pilot, but he was replaced in the second episode by Benedict, who retained the role for the remainder of the series.)

Sergeant Bosco Albert "B.A." Baracus (Mr. T): His initials, while short for his given name, are generally accepted as having a much more colorful meaning: "Bad Attitude." Even though each A-Team member can hold his own in a fistfight, B.A. is still considered the muscle, because if he's fighting, men aren't just knocked down but are thrown through the air. B.A. is also, as described in the pilot, "a mechanical genius." In many episodes, the men build a weapon or armed vehicle of some sort, and B.A. almost becomes the team leader, designing and crafting the machines, as everyone else just seems to be helping him. Despite the bulky man's "bad attitude," B.A. is a sucker for the children, and it is he who insists they undertake a mission if a child is involved. And with his drink of choice being milk, B.A. essentially becomes the team's paternal figure. Hannibal may be the leader, but B.A. is the one who barks orders, usually yelling at Face and Murdock as if they were his disobedient sons. One of B.A.'s most recognizable qualities is his intense fear of flying, forcing the others to trick him into air transportation (often by drugging him) if flying proves necessary.

Captain H.M. "Howling Mad" Murdock (Dwight Schultz): Although Murdock outranks both Face and B.A., he seems to have the lowest rank as a member of the A-Team. This may be for one of two reasons: (1) Though he was the pilot for the team's mission that led to their arrest and subsequent incarceration, Murdock was actually never charged by the military and is technically not on the run with the others; and (2) Murdock is clinically insane. He spends the majority of his time (and the series) in an institution with a seemingly endless list of symptoms, perhaps most famously his incessant conversing with and caring for an invisible dog named Billy. Murdock, however, is an accomplished pilot, and as part of the team, he makes a habit of "escaping," usually with Face the conman helping him. Throughout the course of the series, the audience never learns Murdock's first or middle name.

There were other people with the A-Team, although not necessarily official members. The most notable is Amy Allen (Melinda Culea), an ambitious newspaper reporter whose desire to write a story on the mysterious A-Team is the catalyst for the entire series. Amy certainly wasn't integral to either the team or the majority of their missions, but she was superbly portrayed by Culea, and Amy was fun to watch as she occasionally suffered through the team's bickering. Amy also helped periodically, such as Season 1's "Pros and Cons", in which she assists Face in one of his cons. Reportedly, Culea wanted her character to more actively participate in episodes, so the actress either quit or was fired (depending on which account you believe). Her "replacement" was another reporter, Tawnia Baker (Marla Heasley), who joined the show in the middle of the second season. Heasley's name, unlike Culea, did not even appear in the opening credits, and given that actor Peppard was supposedly unhappy that the producers/writers thought a female character would work on the series, Tawnia was predictably gone early in Season 3. The fifth season saw a fifth member, Frankie Santana (Eddie Velez), join the team. He was more involved than Amy and Tawnia, but he was a special effects man, a job more suitable to the A-Team than a reporter.

Those four men are almost like a family. While the military wants three of the men arrested, the greatest concern is not that Hannibal, Face, and B.A. will be imprisoned, but rather that their arrest would break apart the team. So many of their missions dealt with helping the "little man." Sometimes it was racketeers trying to muscle into a smaller territory, other times it was a biker gang or a rich family committing murders. In the Season 1 episodes, "Holiday in the Hills" and "Till Death Do Us Part", the team rescued, respectively, a man about to be burned at the stake and a young woman being coerced into marrying her deceased father's former business partner. Whatever the mission, it can all be boiled down to a simple concept: the splitting of a unit or family. Numerous episodes end, rather appropriately, with a family thanking the A-Team for their help.

One of the series' best episodes, and an example of how the show revolves around its engaging characters, is "Black Day at Bad Rock" from the first season. While Hannibal, Face, and B.A. are on a mission, B.A. is wounded, and the other two men rush him to a local doctor in a small town. B.A. blames Face for his injury, and Face expresses concern over B.A.'s possible retaliation when his health improves. Not only is Face worried about physical pain inflicted upon him, but he's also acting like a child who knows that he is in trouble and is fearing the inevitable punishment from his "father." Hannibal, in an attempt to maintain order as the team leader, tries to placate Face by hysterically telling him: "Face, B.A. loves you." (This apparently works, as Face responds hopefully: "He does?") Murdock has to escape from the hospital, literally running out the front door with Amy in the getaway car. Although the A-Team may not be family by blood, when B.A. needs a blood transfusion, Murdock is happy to be the donor (even if B.A. is worried that Murdock's "crazy blood" will be inside him). The most significant thing about "Black Day at Bad Rock" is that the plan evidently only "comes together" because Murdock (and, in this case, Amy, too) reunites with the others. In essence, only when the team is a whole can it truly succeed.

The upcoming feature film was directed by Joe Carnahan, who also helmed Narc (2003) and Smokin' Aces (2007). The cast includes Liam Neeson as Hannibal, Bradley Cooper as Face, Sharlto Copley as Murdock, and Quinton "Rampage" Jackson as B.A. While Neeson has recently reinvented himself as an action star with 2008's profitable Taken, Cooper and Copley have had similar success with, respectively, The Hangover and District 9, both released last year. Jackson, a mixed martial artist and former UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship) Light Heavyweight champ, makes his debut in a leading role with The A-Team.

1960s Icon Donna Loren Talks with the Cafe about Mickey Mouse, the Beach Party movies, Shindig, and More!

Beloved by fans of the Beach Party movies, actress-singer Donna Loren has lent her lovely voice and natural appeal to a variety of films, TV series, magazine columns, and commercials. She took time out of her busy schedule to sit down for a chat at the Cafe.


Café: You were pretty much a veteran performer by the age of 8, having appeared professionally on stage and on television's acclaimed Playhouse 90. You also appeared as a guest on The Mickey Mouse Club. How did that come about?

Donna Loren: I auditioned for The Mickey Mouse Club. They wanted me to become a Mouseketeer but my Dad, who called the shots, said: “She’s a solo.” I was chosen to be a guest artist on their “Friday Talent Roundup” when they gave me my ears!

Café: Being selected as the first (and only) Dr Pepper Girl had to be a career-changer. What were your official duties other than appearing in TV commercials and print ads?

Donna: My position with Dr Pepper was their spokesperson. I traveled extensively for them promoting their product.

Café: How did you come to be cast in Muscle Beach Party and end up doing a duet on "Muscle Bustle" with Dick Dale and the Del-Tones?

Donna: Dr Pepper had a product placement in the film. Currently, I am writing my autobiography with more details about this subject.

Café: You had solos in Bikini Beach, Pajama Party, and Beach Blanket Bingo. In fact, "It Only Hurts When I Cry" (my personal fave) and "Among the Young" rank with the best songs in the whole Beach Party series. Who determined which songs you performed and what was your favorite among your numbers?

Donna: Music director Al Simms and the song writers Guy Hemric and J. Styner picked my songs. “Among the Young” from Pajama Party was the most fun because of the arrangement and tempo changes.

Café: How did you get along with the cast of the Beach Party movies?

Donna: I love singing, so singing in a movie was really great. Everyone on set treated me like royalty.

Café: What do you remember best about your four Beach Party movies?

Donna: Actually, there were five in all. Sergeant Deadhead was never as popular, but had a great cast. The cast of each movie was so diverse. Everyone from silent film star Buster Keaton to Little Stevie Wonder made for an exciting time. My favorite part was always being on the beaches in Malibu.

Café: What led to your gig as a regular on the TV variety series Shindig? Thanks to YouTube, some of your performances can still be enjoyed, such as your cover of "Goldfinger" and your duet with Bobby Sherman on "Casting My Spell on You." Who else did you duet with?

Donna: Another audition lead to my role on Shindig. Mostly, Bobby Sherman and I were paired up, but once I did a duet with Bobby Hatfield.

Café: What were some of the songs you enjoyed singing on Shindig?

Donna: #1 would be “Wishin’ and Hopin’” because that was my first show for Shindig. I also really enjoy singing "Shakin’ All Over," even to this day.

Café: You appeared opposite Davy Jones on The Monkees. You were The Joker's moll, Susie, on Batman. You appeared with Jim Nabors on Gomer Pyle, USMC. You were a popular guest star on TV in the mid-1960s! Who did you enjoy working with during that period?

Donna: I think Dick Clark was my favorite. We worked closely for Dr Pepper.

Café: In addition to your acting and singing, you also found time to write two monthly columns for Movie Life Magazine. What kind of advice did you dispense in your advice column "Let's Talk It Over"?

Donna: Gossip is gossip, even teenage talk in the 60's. Sometimes, a word of truth would slip in from my interviews with my ghostwriters.

Café: Although you retired from show business to raise a family in 1968, it seems as though you've never stopped working. You designed your own line of clothes, recorded and produced songs such as "Somewhere Down in the Road" in 1984, and just released a new CD called "Love It Away." Plus, you sell memorabilia on your web site http://donnaloren.net/ and have a blog that's quite logically titled Let's Talk It Over (http://donnaloren.net/latestnews/). That's quite a career! What keeps you going?

Donna: Thank you, Rick, for asking. I love connecting with people and enjoying life which is why I SING.

Spotlighting the Charlie Chan Collection on DVD

Warner Bros. and Turner Classic Movies is presenting the Charlie Chan Collection, a four-movie set of Chan's adventures during the Monogram Pictures era. Each film was previously unavailable on DVD.

Dark Alibi (1946): Following a bank robbery and the murder of a guard, a man with a criminal past is arrested. The man's fingerprints were discovered at the crime scene, and as this is considered definitive proof of his guilt, he is subsequently convicted and sentenced to death. Detective Charlie Chan (Sidney Toler) overhears the man's daughter pleading with an attorney, as the final appeal has been denied, and he decides to take the case. Chan and his Number Three Son, Tommy (Benson Fong), and his chauffeur/assistant, Birmingham Brown (Mantan Moreland), set out to prove that the fingerprints were planted and that an innocent man is on Death Row.

Toler had starred in 11 Charlie Chan films produced by 20th Century Fox. After the studio dropped the series, Toler bought the screen rights and convinced Monogram Pictures to begin distributing the films, beginning with 1944's Charlie Chan in the Secret Service. The actor makes a fine Charlie Chan, and he plays the role with humor, flashing a jaunty smile when he's either caught someone in a lie or hears an expected response during questioning. Watching Chan's investigation is enjoyable, but it's more fun following Chan's son, Tommy, and Birmingham, and Fong and Moreland have good chemistry together. However, the film's highlight involves scenes with Moreland and Ben Carter. The two men had a vaudeville act together, and one of their routines, in which neither man can finish a sentence, is on display in Dark Alibi (which also makes an appearance in 1945's The Scarlet Clue). The sequences are a delight, especially with a flustered Tommy trying desperately to follow the two.

Dangerous Money (1946): An agent of the Treasury Department is aboard a cruise ship bound for Samoa, working undercover to investigate "hot money" on the island. Fearing for his life, he asks for help from fellow passenger Charlie Chan (Toler). No sooner does Chan agree to take the case than the agent slumps over with a knife protruding from his back. While Chan's Number Two Son, Jimmy (Victor Sen Young), and chauffeur, Chattanooga Brown (Willie Best), try to discreetly secure the passengers' fingerprints, the detective questions the people on the ship, hoping to expose secrets, lies, and a murderer.

Perhaps the most significant trait of Dangerous Money is its wonderful setting on the cruise ship. Not only does it heighten suspense with a claustrophobic ambiance, but it creates paranoia among the passengers since it almost guarantees that a murderer is one of them. Even when the people make it to the island, the place seems so small that the tight atmosphere is retained. Although not as sprightly and animated as Fong and Moreland, Young and Best as Jimmy and Chattanooga are still lighthearted comic relief.

The Trap (1946): A variety troupe head to a beach resort for a month of relaxation. One of the performers, Marcia, blackmails Lois (who had lied about her age to join the troupe) into stealing a tin box of letters from another room. During the attempted theft, Lois is strangled to death, and upon discovery of her body, the others realize that Marcia has disappeared. One of the women, San Toy, suggests getting help from "the world's greatest detective," Jimmy Chan (Young). Soon after, Charlie Chan (Toler), along with his son and Birmingham (Moreland), joins the case, and encounters a great deal of people pointing fingers at one another.

This was Toler's final film, as he died shortly after its release. Reportedly, he was so ill during filming that he had trouble speaking his lines and even standing. But if such was the case, it hardly dampens his performance, as Toler's Chan was always methodically and deliberately slow in his speech and demeanor. Charlie Chan did, admittedly, tend to take a backseat in this film to Jimmy and Birmingham, who both shine in larger roles. Jimmy's scenes with his lady friend, San Toy, both of whom clearly share a mutual attraction, are a treat, and the two are good together. The Trap is probably the best film of the bunch, as there are quite a number of suspects, making it an entertaining affair when trying to unveil the killer.

The Chinese Ring (1947): A Chinese lady arrives at the house of Charlie Chan (Roland Winters), refuses to give her name, and hands a ring to Birmingham (Moreland) so that he can show it to the detective. While waiting, the woman is killed by a suspect unknown, utilizing an air rifle at a nearby window. Chan and Sgt. Davidson learn that the woman was Princess Mei Ling, and the only clue to her murderer's identity is a "Capt K" that she was able to write before she died. Chan's investigation leads to an acquisition of airplanes, vanishing money, and a masked killer desperately trying to cover his/her tracks.

Toler had starred in 11 films for Monogram before his death. The Chinese Ring is the Chan debut for Winters. His interpretation of the Chinese sleuth is intriguing, much more straightforward and serious than Toler. While it may be strange to see a non-Asian actor playing Charlie Chan, it's certainly more noticeable in The Chinese Ring, as much of the supporting cast is comprised of Chinese characters, refreshingly portrayed by Asian actors. It's unfortunate that both Jimmy and Birmingham have little to do in this film, but Warren Douglas as Sgt. Davidson and Louise Currie as Peggy Cartwright, a reporter, are paired together, and they provide some humor in their shared scenes. Winters would star in five additional Charlie Chan films before Monogram Pictures officially ended the series with Sky Dragon in 1949.

The DVD presentation of all four movies is crisp and, for the most part, clear of scratches. The audio is likewise exceptional, and the packaging is outstanding, with each film getting its own disc. The DVD collection is set for release tomorrow, June 8th, and will be available at TCM's website, as well as additional online retailers.