BY TIM MCGLYNN

“I am I, Don Quioxte, the man of La Mancha!”

Shout! Factory has released the 1973 film version of Broadway’s hit musical Man of La Mancha. Directed by Arthur Hiller and starring Peter O’ Toole, Sophia Loren and James Coco, this was United Artists’ follow-up to their hugely successful film version of Fiddler on the Roof. It was also one of the last of the roadshow attractions to play across the country. In the Chicago area, where I grew up, this meant a reserved seat engagement at the famed McClurg Court Theater.

Based on author Dale Wasserman’s stage hit, Man of La Mancha, and featuring music by Mitch Leigh and lyrics by Joe Darion, itt starred the great Richard Kiley in the role of Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes. Well-received by audiences at the time, the show won the 1965 Tony Award for Best Musical.

Mitch Leigh wrote the music for several stage musicals such as Cry for Us All and Home Sweet Homer with Yul Brynner. Both of these productions closed after only a handful of performances. While these shows did not produce any hit songs, it was Leigh’s efforts in the area of television advertising that provided his greatest fame. Jingles such as Nobody Doesn’t Like Sara Lee and music for the ABC network’s programming introductions paid the bills. He also wrote the trippy instrumental number The Dis-Advantages of You, which was made famous by a series of commercials for Benson & Hedges cigarettes during the late 60s.

The score for Man of La Mancha features a boisterous title song along with the inspirational anthem The Impossible Dream. Gillian Lynne provided the staging for the dances and fight sequences. While you may not recognize her name, Lynne went on to create the amazing movements and dances for the Andrew Lloyd Webber megahit Cats.

In the film, O’ Toole plays Miguel de Cervantes, an aging and utter failure of a Spanish playwright, poet and tax collector. Cervantes has been incarcerated in a Seville dungeon awaiting trial by the Inquisition for an offense against the Church. There he is dragged before a kangaroo court of his fellow prisoners, who plan to confiscate his few possessions including the uncompleted manuscript of a novel, Don Quixote. Cervantes, seeking to save the manuscript, proposes his defense in the form of a play. The court agrees, and Cervantes and his manservant utilize make-up and costumes transforming themselves into Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. They then play out the story with the prisoners taking the roles of other characters.

In this play within a film, Quixote and Sancho take to the road in a quest to restore the age of chivalry, battle evil, and right all wrongs. The famous battle with the windmill follows, with Quixote blaming his defeat on his enemy, the Great Enchanter.

In a roadside inn, which Quixote insists is really a castle, Aldonza, the inn's serving girl and part-time prostitute is being harassed by a gang of muleteers. Quixote sees her as the dream-ideal whom he will serve forever and insists her name is Dulcinea. Aldonza is confused and angered by Quixote's refusal to see her as she really is.

Later Aldonza encounters Quixote in the courtyard where he is holding vigil, in preparation for being knighted by the innkeeper. She questions him on his seemingly irrational ways, and Quixote answers her with a statement of his credo, The Impossible Dream. 

Peter O’Toole is charming as the confused Don Quixote and is effectively able to separate himself from that role to play the clever Cervantes. He is not, however, a singer and his songs were dubbed even though he reportedly recorded the score before this decision was reached. His emotions shine through the layers of make-up and masks required for both of these characters. Sophia Loren is simply gorgeous even though she is understandably sullen through most of the film. Her songs are also dubbed, but she has a commanding presence during the dance sequences. She suffers a cruel fate late in the story, however, as she is ravaged by the muleteers. The assault is more suggestive in this PG-rated movie supposedly geared for family audiences. James Coco, a stage veteran, is a comic genius in the roles of Cervantes’ servant and the squire, Sancho Pancho. He can convey more emotion with a single glance or raised eyebrows in his complete devotion to his master. British stalwart Harry Andrews must be given credit for his wonderful portrayals of the Innkeeper and the leader of the prisoners.

At first Richard Kiley and Joan Diener, Broadway’s Aldonza, were going to repeat their stage roles. Albert Marre, the original director, was to helm the movie but creative differences with the producers caused him to depart the production taking Kiley and Diener with him. British director Peter Glenville was then hired and quickly fired when he planned to eliminate the tunes from the production. A musical without songs was apparently not a good idea. Glenville was the one who hired O’ Toole for the lead role. Finally, Arthur Hiller came aboard and the production was filmed in Rome.

Under Arthur Hiller’s direction the film took on a dark and colorless quality. It seemed that Hiller could not decide if it was a drama with many close-ups or a musical with more open scenes and production numbers.

On stage the entire story took place in the prison common room, but Hiller kept switching from the jail to the inn and the prairies of Spain. This juxtaposition of the settings was somewhat confusing to audiences and even Roger Ebert in his review admitted he didn’t know what was going on for the first 15 minutes.

The cinematography, set designer and customer all worked to create the depressing brown, tan and grey colors that dominate the film. It is also one of the few big budget musicals to be shot in 1.85 and not scope like most stage-to-screen adaptations. However, for the 70mm roadshow prints the picture was cropped to the 2:20 aspect ratio.

Shout! Factory has given us their usual excellent quality for this Blu-ray preserving the 1.85 ratio and 5.1 surround sound. Extras include a 1973 featurette, the theatrical trailer and a photo montage shown over the overture music.

Man of La Mancha, which was a critical and boxoffice failure, may disappoint some fans of the stage show, but it is an interesting study of a man who lives in his dreams and sees only the best in his fellow man.

BY TODD GARBARINI

Some of the best literary achievements and their respective motion picture counterparts had their genesis in real-life. Robert Bloch made the grave-robber and necrophiliac Ed Gein into the motel manager Norman Bates in Psycho (1960); William Peter Blatty took the ostensibly possessed boy in Cottage City, MD and gave him the identity of Regan MacNeil in The Exorcist (1973); and Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek breathed celluloid life into Kit and Holly respectively in Badlands (1973), based upon Waste Land: The Savage Odyssey of Charles Starkweather and Caril Ann Fugate. Smooth Talk, Joyce Chopra’s brilliant 1985 film adaptation of Joyce Carol Oates’s equally excellent 1966 short story “Where Have You Been, Where Are You Going?", is no exception. While it may seem odd to begin this review of what is on the surface, and for all intents and purposes, a story of a teen-age girl’s sexual awakening, with an overview of horror films, it must be said that Mrs. Oates based her tale loosely on the exploits of Charles Howard Schmid, Jr., aka “The Pied Piper of Tucson,” a loner and petty thief who seduced young high school girls and was responsible for murdering at least three of them between 1964 and 1965.

While the denouement is nowhere near as dark as its real-life roots, Smooth Talk, the winner of the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival in 1986, is a deceptive film in that it is marketed in what appears to be a coming-of-age film, but it is not in the traditional sense. At 91 minutes, Smooth Talk is a nearly perfect film, unlike any other film I have ever seen. Its independent status and minimal theatrical run have precluded it from deservedly finding a much wider audience, even today, though it should be required viewing as both an example of fine independent filmmaking and as a cautionary tale for overly-trusting young women, especially in the modern age of social media and the #MeToo movement.

Following backstory and exposition that was only alluded to in Mrs. Oates’s story, Smooth Talk, released on Friday, February 28, 1986 at the long-gone 68^th Street Playhouse (I miss that theater!!) in New York with a PBS showing as part of American Playhouse nearly a year later, is a remarkably faithful film adaptation that follows the story nearly to the letter. The film gives us Connie Wyatt, a typical fifteen-year-old girl in a terrible hurry to grow up and experience life. She lives in the world of the relative but would prefer to live in the world of the absolute: one bereft of a nagging mother (Mary Kay Place), an insouciant father (Levon Helm), and her older sister June (Elizabeth Berridge) who castigates her for transgressions. She envisions one instead full of sweet and beautiful boys to woo and sing to her. Her summertime vacation household is one of boredom and antagonism, restlessness, and constant comparison to other kids. She is a stranger at the dinner table, marginalized and spoken of in the third person as though she were absent. Her character changes and comes to life, however, during frequent multiple-hour sojourns to the beach and the shopping mall (Santa Rosa Plaza and Coddingtown Mall) with younger friends Laura (Margaret Welsh) and Jill (Sarah Inglis) in tow to the tunes of James Taylor or Franke & The Knockouts on her boom box. In the mall bathroom, the homely triumvirate don mascara and lipstick and emerge looking much older, dressing to impress. Connie metamorphizes from a gawky girl into a temptress. They yearn after a group of attractive young men with “nice buns” and poke fun at nerds and generally act older than they really are. Their first encounter with more than they bargained for is with two muscled-up bad dudes who lecherously offer them booze and drugs, with the presumption of sexual interludes to follow. They nervously rush away from the men’s clutches; on their way home, they stop at an outdoor hamburger restaurant bustling with older kids. An older man in a shiny golden convertible pulls into the lot, and his presence goes unnoticed by Connie, but not by the audience. In the days to follow, Connie and Laura score dates with boys their own age, although Connie’s catch wants more than she is willing to give when he takes her to a deserted parking lot – never a good sign – but she manages to extricate herself from his lust and gets a verbal admonishment from her mother and older sister the following morning for potentially “getting into trouble”.

When Connie’s family goes to visit relatives, she decides to exercise some rebellion, opting to remain home instead. She turns on several radios throughout the house to the same station to hear music anywhere she goes. It is at this point where the film begins to follow Mrs. Oates’s story almost completely, as the film takes a 180-degree turn into uncharted territory with the arrival of the mysterious man in the convertible. He introduces himself as Arnold Friend, and professes his desire to be Connie’s friend, which is repugnant in and of itself as he is most definitely not 15 years-old, but much older, at least twice that age. Bemused, Connie is escorted to his car, a 1960s-something Pontiac LeMans GTO, which has his name printed in cursive writing on the driver’s door, and his license plate bears the name AFRIEND. Next to his name are printed the numbers 33, 19, and 17, the summation of which is synonymous with a particular sexual act, though its significance is completely lost on Connie (it could also refer to the ages of the three females killed by the real-life Pied Piper of Tucson). His last bit of the tour is showing Connie the left rear fender, smashed in by a “crazy woman driver”, as he points out.

What begins at this point is a slow and deliberate seduction of Connie, like the serpent tempting Eve into eating the shiny apple from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, except here the serpent is using a shiny convertible for enticement (note the apple grove in the backyard). Initially flirty, Connie’s demeanor changes when Arnold behaves as though they already know each other, and he mentions facts about her family and friends that only someone intimately familiar with her would know. Arnold’s intentions as a sexual predator are nefarious and despicable. He almost talks to her in code, and everything points to a double meaning. Removing the “r” from his name yields “an old fiend”; Santa Rosa becomes Satan Rosa; and his arched eyebrows are devilish.

When Arnold tells Connie that they are meant to be together, Connie says, “You’re crazy, no one talks like that.” And she is right – but she does not trust her instincts enough and goes along with him in an effort to rid him from her family’s home at 2074 Pleasant Hill Road (in Sebastopol, CA, though the film is set in Petaluma where George Lucas shot his own adolescent masterpiece American Graffiti in the summer of 1972). It costs her her innocence in the film, and her life in the short story.

The film is most notable for being the breakout performance of Laura Dern, who was seventeen when filming commenced in September 1984, a full year prior to playing the virginal Sandy in David Lynch’s controversial Blue Velvet (1986). Ms. Dern should have received an Oscar nomination for this role as her performance is a revelation. She also was growing up and her sense of being “unaware” is what drives her natural reactions. Connie is almost a slightly older and less wild version of Amy Sims, the out-of-control teenager Ms. Dern portrayed in the 1980 episode of Insight called “Who Loves Amy Tonight?”

Martin Rosen, the director of Watership Down (1978), The Plague Dogs (1982) and the little-seen Stacking (1987) with Megan Follows, produced the film.

“I CAN’T GIVE YOU ANYTHING BUT LOVE, BABY”

By Raymond Benson

It boggles this reviewer’s mind that Bringing Up Baby, released in early 1938, was considered a “flop” at the time. Was it really, or is that Hollywood PR nonsense? The truth is that it did fine, but perhaps not as well as the studio, RKO, had hoped. Shortly before its release, the Independent Theater Owners of America had deemed star Katharine Hepburn (and other popular leading ladies) “box office poison.” This bit of nastiness may have had an impact on Baby’s earnings in 1938.

The movie was re-released in the early 40s after the success of The Philadelphia Story (1940) and did much better. When television began broadcasting Bringing Up Baby, the picture’s reputation shot through the roof. Today, it’s considered one of Hollywood’s greatest screwball comedies, and fans agree that it contains performances that are among Hepburn’s and co-star Cary Grant’s most beloved.

This reviewer counts it as one of the funniest movies ever made and could very well be the quintessential screwball comedy, which is what this type of wacky romantic comedy was called in those days, especially if the lovebirds involved were of differing social classes and temperaments.

And while both Hepburn and Grant are absolutely a delight to watch in Bringing Up Baby, the film is also filled with other funny character actors delivering eccentric performances—Charles Ruggles, May Robson, Walter Catlett, Barry Fitzgerald, and others. Howard Hawks was known to have said that his one error with the film was that every character was “crazy,” and that there should have been a few grounded in sanity. This reviewer disagrees! It’s the zaniness of Baby that makes the movie special.

The plot? Mild-mannered and shy paleontologist Dr. David Huxley (Grant) is building the skeleton of a brontosaurus for his museum, and he’s missing the one bone that will complete the project: the elusive “intercostal clavicle.” He’s also engaged to be married to ho-hum Alice (Virginia Walker). On the golf course, Huxley meets flighty but beautiful Susan Vance (Hepburn). She immediately sets out to snare Huxley, and Vance does everything in her power—unwittingly or not—to wreak havoc on the man’s life and stability. Complicating the matter is the presence of “Baby,” a tame leopard that Vance’s brother had sent to her. The one thing that calms down the animal is if someone sings to it the song, “I Can’t Give You Anything but Love, Baby,” which both Huxley and Vance are forced to do—a lot! Vance convinces Huxley to help her take Baby to a farm in Connecticut, and then the picture really does become a mad, mad world. Vance’s shocked aunt turns out to be a wealthy patron who may be donating money to Huxley’s museum—she also owns a wire fox terrier named George (played by “Skippy,” who was also Nick and Nora’s “Asta” in The Thin Man). When Huxley finally receives the intercostal clavicle, George steals it and buries it somewhere. One would think the dog and the leopard are conspiring against the couple! To reveal more would spoil the rollicking good rollercoaster ride that is Bringing Up Baby!

The Criterion Collection has done a bang-up job on the new Blu-ray release. The restored 4K digital transfer, with uncompressed monaural soundtrack, is a marked improvement over the 2005 Warner special edition DVD (which was pretty good to begin with!). Besides optional English subtitles for the hearing impaired, the audio commentary included is by filmmaker Peter Bogdanovich, ported over from that DVD release. All the other supplements on the Criterion edition are different.

There’s a wonderful video essay by author Scott Eyman on the early career of Cary Grant; a new interview with cinematography John Bailey about DP Russell Metty; a fascinating interview with film scholar Craig Barron about visual effects wizard Linwood Dunn, who handled the tricky rear-screen projection and traveling matte shots involving the leopard with the actors (and Dunn didn’t receive credit!); a selected-scene commentary by costume historian Shelly Foote on the work of designer Howard Greer for the film; an enlightening 1-hour European documentary on Howard Hawks (with subtitles) by Hans-Christoph Blumenberg, made not long before Hawks’ death; a fun audio interview from 1969 with Cary Grant answering audience questions after a screening of the film; audio excerpts of a 1972 conversation between Hawks and Peter Bogdanovich (whose What’s Up, Doc? is a direct homage to Baby); and the theatrical trailer.

The enclosed booklet contains an essay by critic Sheila O’Malley, and, of special interest, the original 1937 short story by Hagar Wilde upon which the film is based.

Bringing Up Baby is guaranteed to make you laugh. Highly recommended for fans of screwball comedy, Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, Howard Hawks, and pure zaniness.

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Here's another gem from the past: Jerry Lewis as guest panelist on "What's My Line?"- and Walt Disney as mystery guest, dateline November 11, 1956. 

“THE DEVIL MAKES HIM DO IT”

By Raymond Benson

The actor Ray Milland always presented himself on screen with a serious intensity. His Oscar-winning turn as an alcoholic in The Lost Weekend (1945) catapulted him into the upper ranks of Hollywood stardom in those years. He didn’t always appear in A-list pictures, though. Film noir and thrillers like The Big Clock and So Evil My Love (both 1948) featured Milland in what might be perceived as moonlighting roles, but he is nonetheless effective.

Such is the case with Alias Nick Beal, directed by frequent Milland collaborator, John Farrow. This is not a film noir, per se, but rather a thriller-cum-supernatural tale that borrows heavily from the Faust myth. And while Milland is the fire that energizes Nick Beal, it is third-billing Thomas Mitchell who is the protagonist of the story.

Mitchell is Joseph Foster, a district attorney who aspires to run for governor. He’s an honest and “good” man with a loving wife, Martha (Geraldine Wall). Foster has influential friends, including Reverend Garfield (George Macready), and he has ties to a youth center that caters to wayward boys. Enter Nick Beal (Milland), who offers Foster “help” to attain his goals. The only hitch is that Foster must, essentially, sell his soul to Beal. To sweeten the pot, so to speak, Beal brings in lovely but troubled Donna (Audrey Totter) to turn Foster’s head from what is right and lead him down the same dark path that she is on.

It’s a classic Good vs. Evil story—one we’ve seen a dozen times—but its retelling here in something of a film noir style is refreshing. Farrow directs the picture with flair and grace, evoking a moody, sinister atmosphere with many set pieces blanketed in fog and darkness. It’s almost a horror film, by the looks of it. And, while Mitchell is believable and sympathetic in his plight against damnation, it is indeed Milland who ensures that Alias Nick Beal works. Milland is truly creepy as the Devil (and it’s obvious early on that he is the “alias” of the title). Totter is also winning in her role as a tramp who gets caught up in Beal’s plot to win Foster’s soul, although the Production Code likely prevented the filmmakers from blatantly depicting what she’s really out to do to Foster!

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray release could have used some better cleaning of the source material, but it looks good enough in its glorious black and white. Lionel Lindon’s cinematography is suitably gothic, especially in the exterior night scenes. The movie comes with an audio commentary by the informed and celebrated film noir historian Eddie Muller, plus the theatrical trailer for this and other Kino Lorber releases.

Alias Nick Beal is an entertaining diversion for fans of crime pictures, dark fantasies, Ray Milland, and 1940s Hollywood B-movies in which the creators made lemonade from lemons.

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“TO GRIFT OR NOT TO GRIFT”

By Raymond Benson

This film noir pot boiler, released in 1948 and directed by George Sherman, borders the fine line between being truly awful and stunningly good. Luckily for us, it’s the latter. Larceny surprised this reviewer with its tale—albeit a melodramatic one—of a quartet of con men who make their livings by grifting wealthy people out of investments, phony real estate scams, or whatever. Kind of like what’s happening today with e-mail phishing and robocalls, right?

The picture stars John Payne as Rick Maxon, one of the con men who might be having second thoughts about the company he keeps and the people who become his victims—especially if they’re beautiful women who easily fall for his charm and good looks. Payne was a handsome and low-key actor who worked constantly from the late 1930s through the 1950s, and then sporadically in the 60s (his final appearance being a Columbo television episode in the 70s). Payne played mostly in crime movies and was a second-string Robert Mitchum type who was reliable and got the job done—although he didn’t exactly light up the screen.

The firecracker in Larceny, however, is a young Shelley Winters, who plays the femme fatale. When she’s on, the film really comes alive.

Maxon works for sleazy Silky Randall (film noir stalwart Dan Duryea). They have their eyes set on wealthy and gorgeous Deborah Clark (Joan Caulfield), who lost her husband in the war. Maxon pretends to be an army buddy of her late husband, and his intent is to get Deb to invest in a war memorial—when, in fact, Silky and his team will pocket the money and run. Silky’s wild girlfriend, Tory (Winters), has the hots for Maxon, though, and the two of them have been carrying on behind the back of the very jealous Silky. Big trouble brews when Maxon falls for his prey, and Deb reciprocates… and then Tory gets wind of the budding romance.

Thus, there are romantic shenanigans, a clever crime plot, and truly shady characters that drive this little low budget gem. When the protagonist of a movie is the bad guy, you know you’ve got yourself a real film noir! Sure, there are some eye-rolling moments and some acting that is at times laughable, but that’s all part of the fun. Larceny is indeed astonishingly entertaining. Look for wonderful character actor Percy Helton as a hotel operator, and striking Dorothy Hart as yet another female who is willing to commit a crime for ladies’ man Maxon.

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray restoration looks good enough. It comes with an audio commentary by the knowledgeable film historian Eddy Von Mueller, plus the trailer for this and other Kino Lorber releases.

Larceny is recommended for fans of film noir, Shelley Winters, and Hollywood cinema of the 1940s.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

Two years before "Bonnie and Clyde" revolutionized the American crime movie genre a far more modest production centered on a star-crossed pair of lovers who were young, in love and killed people. "Young Dillinger" starred Nick Adams in the titular role, playing notorious gangster John Dillinger who was among the "Most Wanted" criminals of the Depression era. Although the real Dillinger had a hardscrabble life and a dramatic death (ambushed by police when benignly exiting a movie theater), any resemblance to the historic figure and the character portrayed by Adams on screen is purely coincidental. The film was distributed by Allied Artists, which would go on to release some top-shelf hits in the 1970s including "Cabaret", "Papillon", "The Man Who Would be King" and "The Wild Geese". However, in 1965 Allied was strictly a Poverty Row studio that churned out low-budget movies for undiscriminating audiences in hopes of making a quick, modest profit. Shot in B&W, "Young Dillinger" opens with "Johnny" and his girlfriend Elaine (former Miss America Mary Ann Mobley) necking in a car and bemoaning the fact that they are too broke to get married. Elaine must still live at home under the rules set by her mother and father, an inconvenience that intrudes on her not-inconsiderable sex drive. She spontaneously comes up with a plan of action: they can break into her father's office and steal a load of cash that he keeps in the safe. Dillinger is all in immediately but the plan goes awry when they are spotted by a watchman. Still, they get the loot and head off on a cross-country spending spree, indulging in expensive meals, liquor, gambling and hotel rooms. It all comes to an end when the cops track them down and arrest them. Dillinger makes a deal: he will plead guilty if Elaine is not charged. Consequently, he is sent to jail for several years, an experience that leaves him even more cynical and disillusioned. Sure enough, Elaine is waiting for him when he emerges and they immediately take to crime again. Dillinger is hired by professional gangsters to carry out an audacious plan to spring 'Pretty Boy' Floyd (Robert Conrad) and 'Baby Face' Nelson (John Ashley) from a prison farm. When he succeeds in carrying out the plan, Floyd invites him to join him and 'Baby Face' in their newly-formed gang. With Elaine along for the ride, the group terrorizes the Midwest through small-time robberies that eventually lead to daring bank jobs. Before long, Dillinger is on the F.B.I's "Most Wanted" list.

Directed by Terry O. Morse, who was primarily known as an editor, the movie breezes along at a brisk pace even if the style is quite unimpressive and pedestrian. In fact, the film looks like a standard TV episode of "The Untouchables" in terms of production values. Even a fleeting glimpse at Dillinger's biography will make it immediately apparent that story is almost entirely fictionalized. The performances are adequate, nothing more. Adams, who was a seasoned actor, tries to bring some intensity to the role but the script presents Dillinger as a superficial gangster type with no effort expended to provide some of the more interesting aspects of his background. Similarly, we know nothing about Elaine aside from the fact that this "girl next door" type can turn into a hardened criminal on a whim. Why? We never learn anything about her background, either. The supporting actors don't fare much better. Robert Conrad, who would soon find stardom with the hit TV series "The Wild, Wild West" is given little to work with as 'Pretty Boy' Floyd and is mostly seen shooting at the cops. One exception is the inimitable and delightful Victor Buono, who makes a couple of cameos as "The Professor", an eccentric mastermind who provides the gang with operational plans for bank jobs. Equally good is John Hoyt as a mob doctor who Dillinger hires to undergo some plastic surgery (a rare instance of the film depicting an actual event). The doctor botches the surgery but while Dillinger is lying helpless in bed in terrible pain and his face wrapped up like The Mummy, the surgeon takes advantage of the situation by trying to rape Elaine. She has to keep him at bay with a loaded gun while not alerting Dillinger to the crisis when he's helpless to assist her. It's the best scene in the film and the only one that provides a bit of suspense. It also allows Mary Ann Mobley to display her acting chops instead of being presented as Gidget as opposed to a Depression-era gun moll.

BY LEE PFEIFFER

By 1987, Burt Reynolds was largely regarded as being past his sell date as a leading man in theatrical films. Some of his decline in popularity was self-imposed. Reynolds had continued to knock out cornpone  comedies long after they had run out of steam. His other problem was due to the fact that he had been seriously injured on the set of "City Heat" due to a mis-timed stunt that left him in serious shape and resulted in a long hospital stay. During this time, terrible rumors spread widely that implied he had contracted AIDS. By the time Reynolds recovered, the damage to his career had been done. Although he would continue to star in films for major studios, their boxoffice take was generally mediocre at best. Reynolds would eventually gravitate to television where he starred in a hit sitcom, "Evening Shade". One of his attempted comeback vehicles was the 1987 crime thriller "Malone" in which Reynolds eschewed his image as a towel-snapping wiseguy and returned to his roots to play a mysterious man of action. The film opens with the titular character, played by Reynolds, refusing to carry out an assassination for the CIA. Malone has been one of their most reliable covert killers but he's ashamed of his profession and decides to give it up for a quiet, normal life. He knows that one doesn't just walk out on the CIA so he uproots his life and packs all his belongings in his weather-beaten car and heads off to remote areas of the Northwest. While enjoying his lifestyle as a drifter, his car breaks down and he manages to get it to a one-horse town where the local garage owner, a partially disabled widower, Paul Barlow (Scott Wilson) informs him he has to order a special part for the vehicle. The two men make friendly chatter and Barlow offers to allow Malone to stay at his house until the car can be repaired. Also on the premises is Barlow's teenage daughter Jo (Cynthia Gibb), who immediately takes a fancy to the mysterious stranger who has entered her otherwise mundane existence. During his stay, the tight-lipped Malone observes that Barlow and some other town residents are being bullied and intimidated by employees of a local land baron named Delaney (Cliff Robertson), who- for reasons unknown- is trying to force certain locals to sell him their land. Failure to do so results in inevitable harassment. When Malone comes to Barlow's aid and humiliates some of Delaney's goons, Delaney meets with him and tries to bribe him to work for him. Seems that anyone of influence in the town is on Delaney's payroll, including the local sheriff (Kenneth McMillan).  Malone refuses the offer and Delaney turns to bringing in professional assassins to murder him. Adding to Malone's woes is the fact that a former CIA colleague, Jamie (Lauren Hutton) has tracked him down and has orders to kill him, as well. Jamie, however, warns Malone of her mission and the two decide that "Make love, not war" should be their mantra. As Delaney increases the pressure, Malone decides to go mano a mano with him. He sneaks into Delaney's heavily-guarded compound and discovers a massive arsenal being stockpiled there. Turns out that Delaney is the leader of an extremist right wing fringe group with ties to sympathetic elected officials in Washington, D.C. He intends to imminently launch a violent uprising in the hopes that it spreads nationally and takes down the government. 

There isn't a single original thought in "Malone". The film is a modern day remake of Clint Eastwood's "Pale Rider", which had been released two years before. Eastwood's film, in turn, was a virtual remake of George Stevens' "Shane". The stories all share some common themes: a family is being harassed by a local rich guy who has nefarious purposes. A mysterious stranger comes to their aid and, in the process, is idolized by a young member of the family. In the climax of all three stories, the stranger finds himself having to put his life on the line to rid the locals of the menacing figure who is making their lives miserable. Having said all that, I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed "Malone". Under the competent direction of Harley Cokeless, the story moves at a brisk pace and there is plenty of time to explore the backgrounds of the key characters. Reynolds still had enough macho mojo to pull off roles like this and it's great seeing him play a serious role once again. As a man of few words, he excels not only in the dramatic sequences but also in the film's explosive conclusion, which borrows much from another (then) contemporary hit, "Witness" as we watch Malone on Delaney's farm systematically eliminate the bad guys. Reynolds gets some fine support from Cliff Robertson (in the kind of superficially charming role usually played by Robert Vaughn), Kenneth McMillan and Scott Wilson. Lauren Hutton's brief appearance is a highlight of the film, as she and Malone intersperse romantic interludes with suspicions about each other's motives. (Malone willingly beds her but is afraid to digest any drinks she prepares out of fear she will poison him.) The biggest revelation is the performance of Cynthia Gibb, who displays considerable charm as the young girl who is starstruck by Malone. (The script thankfully keeps the relationship chaste.) "Malone", filmed in and around Vancouver (the usual tax-friendly doppleganger for American locations), is a good old-fashioned action flick. In today's era of over-produced, over-budgeted CGI-laden monstrosities, it's simplicity, predictability and unpretentious story line are assets. The Kino Lorber Blu-ray contains the trailer as well as trailers for other Burt Reynolds releases available through the company. 

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

When I received the review copy of Running Press's "Summer Movies", published in conjunction with Turner Classic Movies, I naturally assumed the book would probably be heavily skewed to covering the fabled "beach movies" of the fifties and sixties. Not that there's anything wrong with that. However, the genre has already been covered in a comprehensive manner in Tom Lisanti's excellent "Hollywood Surf and Beach Movies: The First Wave, 1959-1969". It turns out that author John Malahy (an enthusiastic employee of Turner Classic Movies) has thought outside the box in compiling his list of "30 sun-drenched classics" ranging from the early sound era to recent releases for inclusion in the book. There are the obvious and eclectic choices: David Lean's "Summertime", Bergman's "Smiles of a Summer Night", "Gidget", "The Endless Summer", "Beach Blanket Bingo" and "Jaws". However, Malahy gets creative when it comes to his litmus test for what should constitute a "summer movie". For example, some of the films don't necessarily involve people at the beach but, rather, important aspects of the story take place during summer, which helps define the films in significant ways. Malahy includes an obscure early sound movie, "Lonesome" because it involves a young couple taking in the pleasures of Coney Island (though it was filmed in California). Spike Lee's "Do the Right Thing" has dramatic and humorous events unfolding over an unbearably hot New York summer when racial tensions turn violent. Hitchcock's "Rear Window" presents intrigue during another urban heat wave  and John Huston's "Key Largo" has a hurricane that is the catalyst for murder and mayhem.  "On Golden Pond", "Call Me By Your Name", "A Room with a View" and "The Graduate" concern family crises that unfold during particularly eventful summers that result in personal relationships hitting the breaking point. Other films featured include the original "The Parent Trap", "The Music Man", "Breaking Away", "Moonrise Kingdom", "A League of Their Own", "National Lampoon's Vacation", "Caddyshack", "Dirty Dancing", "Before Sunrise", "State Fair", "The Seven Year Itch" and several other gems.

Malahy writes in an entertaining and informative style and the book is nicely illustrated with an abundance of factoids and color photos. It also features a very appreciative foreword from Leonard Maltin. "Summer Movies" is fun and breezy- just like a day at the beach. Let's hope a sequel is in the works.

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“NOT SO TANGLED, IT WEAVES”

By Raymond Benson

The low budget 1947 film noir drama, The Web, is a fairly typical example of the type of B-picture that many Hollywood studios were churning out in the late 1940s. No one referred to these crime movies as film noir at the time; it wasn’t until the late 1950s that French critics looked back at this body of work and proclaimed, “Sacré bleu! Film Noir!”—and the term stuck.

In the case of The Web, the title is categorized as film noir for being a crime picture shot in black and white by DP Irving Glassberg with high contrasting light and shadow, a tale that features cynical and unreliable characters, a twisty plot, and some double-crosses. That’s about it, really—there is no femme fatale (we think that one character is going to serve that role, but ultimately that isn’t the case), and there is a tangible grittiness to other, classic films noir that is missing here. Nevertheless, The Web is enjoyable, if somewhat predictable.

While the lovely Ella Raines receives top billing as Noel, the personal assistant to wealthy industrialist Andrew Colby (Vincent Price), it is Edmond O’Brien, as Bob Regan, who is the protagonist of the story. Regan is an attorney—something of an ambulance chaser, it seems—who is temporarily hired by Colby to serve as a bodyguard as protection against a former employee, Leopold Kroner (Fritz Leiber). Kroner has just been released from prison, blames Colby for framing him, and allegedly seeks revenge. On the first night on the job, Regan is forced to shoot Kroner in Colby’s office during a struggle. Even though the police deem the incident as self-defense, Lieutenant Damico (William Bendix) is suspicious and wants to pin a murder rap on Regan. While Regan sweats it out, he becomes romantically infatuated with Noel while simultaneously doing his own investigation into Colby and the man’s history with Kroner.

Yes, a “web” of conspiracy is revealed, and it turns out to be not so tangled. We can foresee the outcome, really, from the first act of the picture. It’s no spoiler to say that a viewer would have to be an idiot not to realize that Colby is the heavy (he’s Vincent Price—duh!). That said, the film moves along at such a brisk pace and features an enthusiastic, plucky performance from O’Brien as the cocky lawyer-cum-bodyguard/detective. Raines, who made several film noir titles, seems to have been molded by Hollywood to be a second string Lauren Bacall-type; she does possess silver screen presence and a charisma that plays well off of O’Brien’s antics. One can’t help but be entertained.

Kino Lorber’s new Blu-ray restoration looks and sounds superb. There is an accompanying and informative audio commentary by film scholar, Professor Jason A. Ney. The theatrical trailer is included along with other Kino Lorber trailers.

While it’s not going to win any awards (it didn’t), The Web is indicative of the era in which it was released. For fans of film noir, Edmond O’Brien and Vincent Price, and Hollywood B-movies.

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BY LEE PFEIFFER

By the mid-1950s Burt Lancaster was one of the biggest stars in the world. He used his clout to form his own production company so that he would not be chained to exclusive contracts with specific studios as so many of his peers were. Lancaster could pick and choose his own projects and how they were brought to the screen. He harbored dreams of becoming a full-time director and stated publicly that he intended to retire from acting in order to fulfill this fantasy. So far, so good. However, Lancaster, who was never lacking in confidence or ego, managed to alienate seemingly everyone in his orbit by making disparaging remarks about directors and their profession in general. This didn't sit well with those he offended and Lancaster was denied entry into the Director's Guild of America when it came to helming his first film, an adaptation of Felix Holt's frontier novel "The Gabriel Horn", which he was bringing to the big screen in Technicolor and CinemaScope under the title "The Kentuckian". Lancaster had lined up some top-rate talent for the production, which was the first of a multi-picture distribution deal with United Artists. Acclaimed Western novelist A.B. Guthrie Jr. was the screenwriter, the esteemed Laszlo Kovacs was the cinematographer and Bernard Herrmann was the composer. This was a fairly big-budget production that eschewed Hollywood's penchant for studio-bound sets and stock photography in favor of actually filming on location in rural Kentucky. 

The story opens with Elias Wakefield (Lancaster), a widowed backwoodsman and his young son Little Eli (Donald MacDonald) as they gleefully march through remote wooded areas in Kentucky heading toward a far-away river where they intend to ride an elegant steam ship to a new life in Texas. The promise of vast land and unlimited potential is too much for Elias to resist and he's scrimped and saved up $200 for the passenger fare aboard the boat. He also wants to put some distance between him and Little Eli and two members of a clan that have been carrying on a long feud with the Wakefields and who are intent on tracking down and killing Elias. Things go awry when they reach a town where the locals are anything but friendly. Elias is framed for a crime and jailed. The corrupt locals intend to allow him to be killed by the would-be assassins who have arrived in town. Elias is saved by Hannah (Dianne Foster), a lovely young woman who is suffering as an indentured servant to a cruel owner of a tavern. She frees Elias and joins him and his son as they flee towards the freedom Texas offers. Along the way, they are captured by lawmen and Elias has to use his life savings to buy Hannah's "contract" out with her employer. Although Elias treats Hannah with sisterly respect, it's clear she has romantic designs on him that she keeps subdued. Upon arriving in another town to visit Elias's brother Zack (John McInintire) and his wife Sophie (Una Merkel), the trio finds the new locale not much friendlier than their last encounter with civilization. Although they are warmly greeted by Zack and Sophie, the rest of the local population mocks them as unsophisticated hicks. Because they are destitute, Elias has to go into Zack's career as a tobacco seller where he finds unexpected success. Hannah, however, finds herself back in servitude with yet another cruel tavern owner, Bodine (Walter Matthau in his big screen debut). Elias enrolls his son in school for the first time and manages to fall for his teacher, Susie (Diana Lynn), who returns the sentiment. As their love affair grows, Elias alienates his own son, who accuses his father of dashing their plans to move to Texas. Also alienated is Hannah, who suffers in silence while the man she loves romances another woman. Things come to a head when Elias has a knock-down brawl with Bodine, whose penchant for wielding a bullwhip exacts a terrible toll on him. Then the killers from the rival clan show up and lay in wait to assassinate Elias. 

"The Kentuckian" was not the great success Burt Lancaster had hoped for. Critics were anemic if not downright cynical about the film with Bosley Crowther of the New York Times mocking it mercilessly. When the movie under-performed, Lancaster uncharacteristically went public with his frustrations at the magnitude of work it took to both star in and direct the film. He ate considerable crow and said he underestimated how much talent it took to direct a movie, thereby winning him favor with a  profession he had previously offended. (Lancaster's only other directing credit is as co-director of the 1974 crime thriller "The Midnight Man". ) Although "The Kentuckian" has plenty of corny and predictable elements to it, the film is reasonably good entertainment. Lancaster, who was always among the most charismatic of leading men, delivers a solid performance and he is aided by an able cast of leading ladies and fine character actors. Young Donald MacDonald gives an impressive performance as his son and Matthau, who would later denounce the role he played as ludicrous, is nevertheless a suitable villain in the Snidley Whiplash mode. The cinematography is very good, though the movie does feature some of the worst "day for night" effects imaginable. Scenes that are set in the dead of night are presented in bright sunshine. Bernard Herrmann's score is appropriately rousing and the film features some good action sequences. Perhaps the most under-valued aspect of the movie is its intelligent screenplay which presents the characters with engaging back stories and dilemmas. Lancaster chose to stress the human side of the story instead of spectacle and violence. 

The Kino Lorber Blu-ray looks great and contains the trailer along with a welcome gallery of other trailers pertaining to Lancaster movies. 

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Richard Donner with Marlon Brando on the set of the 1978 blockbuster "Superman".

Director/producer Richard Donner has died at age 91. Donner honed his skills by directing episodes of such classic television shows as "Wanted Dead or Alive", "Perry Mason", "The Fugitive", "The Twilight Zone" and "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." before moving into feature films. Among his blockbuster hits: "The Omen", "Superman" , "The Goonies" and "Lethal Weapon". For more about his remarkable life and career, click here.

(For an exclusive interview with Richard Donner about the making of "Superman", see Cinema Retro issue #42).

“GOIN’ TO TOWN” (1935; Directed by Alexander Hall)

“KLONDIKE ANNIE” (1936; Directed by Raoul Walsh)

“GO WEST, YOUNG MAN” (1936; Directed by Henry Hathaway)

“EVERY DAY’S A HOLIDAY” (1937; Directed by A. Edward Sutherland)

“MY LITTLE CHICKADEE” (1940; Directed by Edward F. Cline)

(Kino Lorber)

“GOODNESS HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT—THE MAE WEST FILMS, PART TWO”

By Raymond Benson

This is the continuation of reviews of the classic 1930s (and 1940) films of Mae West, which began here.

Kino Lorber has just released in gorgeously restored, high-definition presentations every Mae West film made between 1932-1940—the Paramount years, plus one with Universal. This review will cover the last five of nine titles.

What is not commonly appreciated among Hollywood enthusiasts is that Mae West held a unique position in the history of cinema. Until the modern era, she had the extraordinary fortune—for her time—of being a leading actress who wrote her own screenplays. Six of the nine pictures reviewed here and in Part One were written by West, one was co-written, and all but the first was based on or adapted from West’s plays or stories. It wasn’t until the likes of Tina Fey, Kristen Wiig, Angelina Jolie, and a finite number of other actresses appeared on the scene to write original scripts for themselves that Hollywood allotted that kind of opportunity to a female performer. West was doing it in the 1930s, and this was unprecedented. Her talent and wit deserve a renewed appreciation today.

Her first two solo pictures (not counting her debut, Night After Night) are undoubtedly the quintessential Mae West movies (She Done Him Wrong and I’m No Angel) because of the freedom she had in the pre-Code years. Once the Production Code kicked in on July 1, 1934, West battled censorship and the challenges of getting across her risqué humor with more subtlety. It can be said that her remaining Paramount Pictures titles suffered when compared to the pre-Code fare, but they are still entertaining and worth a look.

Goin’ to Town (1935) takes place at the turn of the century when automobiles are appearing but there are still horses and buggies. It’s a globe-hopping affair that begins in what appears to be the Wild West as Cleo Borden (West) is a cattle rancher who juggles men on the way to fulfill her desire to refine her manners and join high society. Although her designs are really aimed at British engineer Edward Carrington (Paul Cavanaugh), she marries Fletcher Colton (Monroe Owsley) for convenience, but he’s an obsessive gambler. In Buenos Aires, Cleo faces off with rival Grace Brittony (Marjorie Gateson). As a recurring theme to this and other West vehicles, the actress sings “He’s a Bad, Bad Man, but He’s Good Enough for Me”! Goin’ to Town is entertaining enough—it’s better than the previous Belle of the Nineties, but the picture lacks interesting co-stars for West. The Blu-ray comes with an audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger, plus the theatrical trailer.

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Klondike Annie (1936) is overseen by solid filmmaker Raoul Walsh, and it shows. It is perhaps the best of West’s post-Code pictures, despite its embarrassingly offensive take on Asian characters, which was standard operating procedure in Hollywood for the time. It’s the 1890s again (why do so many of West’s films take place in that decade?). Rose Carlton (West) is a “kept woman” in San Francisco’s Chinatown by cruel club owner Chan Lo (Harold Huber, not an Asian actor). Rose ends up killing Lo and escapes on a ship to Alaska, the captain of which is Bull Brackett (the fabulous Victor McLaglen). Rose disguises herself and impersonates the deceased Sister Annie Alden, a missionary who was on her way to Nome to head up the only establishment of worship in an otherwise rough Gold Rush town. Bull falls hard for “Annie,” and she likes him, too, but she also has eyes for Mountie-like inspector Jack Forrest (Phillip Reed), who is looking for Rose because she’s now wanted for murder. Klondike Annie went through major Hays Office interference and in fact two major scenes were deleted from the film—the murder of Lo (we now only hear about what happened in conversation later), and the sequence in which Rose dons Annie’s clothing and dresses the former sister in the garb of a streetwalker (the censors seriously objected to this on puritanical grounds!). Nevertheless, Klondike is lively, rather suspenseful, and features the most exotic of settings for a Mae West movie. The disk comes with an audio commentary by film historians Alexandra Heller-Nicholas and Josh Nelson, plus the theatrical trailer.

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Go West, Young Man (also 1936) was helmed by accomplished director Henry Hathaway, and it fares well for West and her filmography. West is controversial movie star Mavis Arden, who has a penchant to get in trouble. Thus, her studio has assigned press agent Morgan (Warren William, who was known as the “king of pre-Code,” but he was apparently still working post-Code) to keep an eye on Mavis and stop her from dalliances with men. On the way to a public appearance, their car breaks down in a hick town where Mavis and Morgan must stay at a boarding house run by a prudish woman (Alice Brady) and her more open-minded aunt (Elizabeth Patterson). The problem is that hunky Bud Norton (Randolph Scott) runs the gas station next door to the boarding house! It’s another enjoyable West romp that is more of a screwball comedy than any of her other pictures. The disk comes with an audio commentary by author/film historian Lee Gambin, plus the theatrical trailer.

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Every Day’s a Holiday (1937) was the last picture West made for Paramount, after which her contract was cancelled. She, along with many other actresses such as Katharine Hepburn, Marlene Dietrich, and even Bette Davis, were deemed at the time by the Hollywood press as “box office poison” (which was nonsense, of course). It’s too bad, for Holiday is one of the funnier titles in the West canon, mainly due to character actor co-stars Charles Butterworth (as Graves, a butler who is sweet on West’s character, Peaches O’Day), Charles Winninger (as Van Doon, an outrageous millionaire who also has the hots for Peaches), and bumbling Walter Catlett (as Nifty, Peaches’ manager). Peaches, who has a habit of “selling” the Brooklyn Bridge to numbskulls, has her eyes on police captain McCarey (Edmund Lowe), whose rival is the police chief Quade (Lloyd Nolan). Peaches, wanted by the law, “disguises” herself by donning a black wig—and of course no one recognizes her as Peaches anymore (!). Quade, once pursuing Peaches to arrest her, is now after “Fifi” to woo her. Fun stuff all around. Look for Louis Armstrong’s cameo leading a marching band and performing a song. The disk comes with an audio commentary by film historian Kat Ellinger, plus the theatrical trailer.

Hollywood has mined gold from films relating to the American Civil War. Generally, however, the opposite has been true of movie relating to the American Revolution. Relatively few have been made and those that were often proved to be boxoffice failures, none more so than director Hugh Hudson's expensive 1985 epic "Revolution", which was savagely attacked by critics and disappeared from theaters quickly due to audience disinterest, However, Hudson would later issue a DVD version of the movie with significant changes. As we argued at the time, the film may not be a classic but it has plenty of merits and it deserves to be re-evaluated. Click here to to read our original review.

"Chisum", released in 1970, was John Wayne's first film after he won the coveted Best Actor Oscar for "True Grit", a fact played up in the trailer for the film which opened with news footage of Wayne exiting the Academy Awards ceremony, showing off the Oscar to an adoring crowd. The film was directed by Andrew V. McLaglen, who frequently collaborated with Wayne. This was arguably their best joint venture.

This review from the Independent Film Journal treats the movie like a standard John Wayne Western, but the uncredited writer fails to see the many factors that elevated it above most of Wayne's horse operas. In any event, the Duke had the last laugh when the ultimate film critic- the President of the United States- publicly praised the movie. Yup, Dick Nixon had screened it at the White House and told the press he very much enjoyed it. Not that Wayne needed presidential approval, as in 1970 he was still boxoffice gold- and indeed "Chisum" became one of his biggest hits. - Lee Pfeiffer

BY MARK CERULLI

Many movies are a reflection of their time: Dr. Strangelove was a biting 1960s anti-nuclear war satire. Taxi Driver was a 1970s commentary on urban loneliness. Now as America grapples with rising, politically inspired unrest, it’s more than a bit sad that the movie for OUR time may well be The Forever Purge.

This half a billion-dollar franchise started out in 2013 as a humble $3M action/thriller starring Ethan Hawke. Expectations were modest at best… Instead, the film’s main theme – allowing society to “let off steam” with one night where all crime is allowed - touched a nerve, grossing almost $90M and installments (and profits) soon followed.

This latest sequel, directed by Everardo Gout and written by series creator, James DeMonaco, cannily picks up on today’s social and political vibes - a humble Mexican couple, Juan and Adela, sneak into the U.S. in search of a better life, ready to work hard to achieve that iconic American dream. Juan winds up toiling as a ranch hand for a wealthy Texas family whose mercurial son (Josh Lucas) makes it clear he doesn’t want Mexicans around. On Purge Night, as the owners hunker down in luxury to ride the things out; the ranch hands and their families take refuge in a barricaded warehouse. All emerge the next morning to discover the terrifying truth – the Purge genie ain’t going back in the bottle. Paramilitary groups have decided to rid America of all “others”, with NO time limit. From coast to coast, violence explodes. In a clever reverse, Mexico and Canada now offer U.S. citizens asylum, so the wealthy ranch owners must rely on their Mexican workers to guide them to safety.

Tenoch Huerta turns in a solid performance as Juan, the Mexican immigrant gamely trying to fit in. Ana de la Reguera (so good in Netflix’s Army of the Dead) really shines as Adela, whose quiet demeanor masks a fearsome warrior. Veteran character actor Will Patton has a brief, but impactful role as the Texas family patriarch, surprised at how his country has changed. In one telling scene, a hulking skinhead being transported to jail through the Purge Night mayhem, happily rattles off a multitude of gun types based on the bullet sounds coming from the surrounding streets.

The film is a wild ride through an amped up, paranoid, gun-filled American West and while entertaining and well done (one expects no less from a movie that lists Jason Blum as a producer) the resemblance to current events is just too stark to ignore.

The Forever Purge opens Friday, July 2^nd, from Universal Pictures.

“PICKPOCKETS AND STOOL PIGEONS”

By Raymond Benson

Samuel Fuller’s 1953 film noir, Pickup on South Street, was shocking in its day and still manages to deliver a punch to the gut.

In the conservative early 50s, who would have thought that Hollywood would green light a picture in which a pickpocket, a “loose” woman, and a stool pigeon are the protagonists? Film noir titles often told stories from the point of view of the criminals when they didn’t focus on cynical and hard-boiled private investigators, but Pickup attempts to make these lowlifes sympathetic. Surprisingly, the movie succeeds. While the film was not well-received upon release, the years have been kind to it. Today, Fuller’s hard-edge crime story-cum-Cold War spy thriller is considered a masterpiece of its ilk.

Sleazy Skip McCoy (Richard Widmark) is a professional pickpocket, often preying on unsuspecting women on New York subway trains. When he lifts the wallet from the attractive and sultry Candy (Jean Peters), Skip doesn’t realize that she’s being watched by the Feds. Candy is unwittingly delivering the movie’s MacGuffin—a microfiche of top-secret government goods—to a Communist cell in the USA. Candy’s handler and former boyfriend, Joey (Richard Kiley) seems subservient to his bosses at first, but we soon realize he is a dangerous powder keg. The Feds enlist the NYPD’s help to recover the stolen wallet, and the cops, in turn, go to stool pigeon Moe (the fabulous Thelma Ritter), who has her own problems with the law—but she seems to know everyone in the underworld. Eventually, McCoy realizes he’s in possession of something quite valuable, so he embarks to play both ends against the middle, with Candy as a pawn in his risky game.

“Red Scare” movies were a thing in the late 40s and early 50s. The paranoia went part-and-parcel with the Hollywood blacklist and House Un-American Activities Committee work to flush out Communists in the entertainment industry. Several anti-Communism pictures were produced, mostly B-movie crime thrillers that were similar to the cheap science fiction alien invasion movies also being made at the time. Pickup on South Street, though, is one of the better Red Scare movies in that it is more of a crime thriller… and a sort of twisted love story, too.

Yes, McCoy and Candy develop a sizzle for each other, despite McCoy violently abusing and assaulting the woman. This aspect, perhaps, is a bit difficult to swallow in terms of believability—why would she fall for a guy who punches her in the jaw? But this was 1953, and film noir characters did not often behave rationally (or realistically).

While both leads are terrific, it is Thelma Ritter who steals the movie; in fact, she was nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her performance. The picture is also buoyantly elevated by the several supporting character actors who play cops, Feds, and underworld figures.

Pickup is loosely based on a short story, “Blaze of Glory,” by Dwight Taylor, but the screenplay is by Fuller himself. The direction is tight, frank, and economical. It is easily one of the controversial director’s most accomplished works.

The Criterion Collection’s new Blu-ray release is an upgrade from a previous DVD edition. This time the feature is a 4K digital restoration with an uncompressed monaural soundtrack. Most of the DVD’s supplements are ported over—a 1989 interview with Fuller conducted by critic Richard Schickel; a 1982 French TV program in which Fuller talks about the film; a Hollywood Radio Theatre adaptation from 1954 with Thelma Ritter reprising her role; and trailers for this and many other movies directed by Fuller. New to the Blu-ray is an excellent interview with critic Imogen Sara Smith, a film noir scholar and expert, who provides many enlightening tidbits about the picture, its director, and the cast. The booklet comes with essays by Martin Scorsese (Pickup is allegedly one of Scorsese’s favorite pictures) and critic Luc Sante, plus a chapter from Fuller’s autobiography.

Pickup on South Street should appeal to lovers of film noir, Samuel Fuller, Cold War-era drama, and edgy crime thrillers of yesteryear. Highly recommended.

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