Reviews
Fear in the Night (1946)
Some dreams are more real than others.
This interesting film explores whether one can be hypnotized against his will and compelled to perform hideous acts contrary to his nature, even to the point of killing and self-destruction.
Mild mannered bank teller Vince Grayson (DeForest Kelley in his film debut) lives in a seedy hotel room and can't even drive a car. Yet he awakens from a horrible dream that he has killed a man in a mirrored room and stuffed him in a closet. Inexplicably, Vince finds thumb marks on his own throat, a scratch on his wrist and a button from the dead man's coat along with a key with which he locked the closet. Deeply disturbed, Vince cannot report to work and wanders the city pondering the mystery of this frightening experience.
Along the way, Vince receives support from his sister Lil Herlihy (Ann Doran) and her husband Cliff (strongly played by Paul Kelly). Cliff is a police detective who initially disbelieves Vince killed someone, then believes he did. A stream of interrelated events ultimately leads Vince back to the mystery house with the mirrored room.
Vince's inability to drive a car, a rather dated concept, clears him as a suspect in one murder. This contrasts with a deputy sheriff (Jeff York) who announces he has quit smoking, a somewhat novel concept for the time. Kelley tries hard to make Vince's character convincing, but this is 20 years before we know him as the feisty Dr. Leonard (Bones) McCoy aboard the Starship Enterprise.
Unlike some Noir efforts, the story is straight forward and simply allows the mystery to explain itself, a credit to Maxwell Shane's direction. However, much of this piece belong to the villain Lewis Belknap (veteran character actor Robert Emmett Keane) who almost steals the show as a betrayed husband and master hypnotist. At a critical moment, Vince gets the drop on Belknap and threatens to shoot him. In response, Belknap slyly hypnotizes Vince using an open pocket watch case, begging Vince for a minute's time in increments of 15 elapsed seconds. This unusual scene is not to be missed. Even more chilling is Belknap's ultimate control over Vince once he is under hypnotic suggestion.
In a word, highly entertaining and recommended.
I Mobster (1959)
Routine gangster movie posing as Film Noir
This film is classified as Film Noir, but on close examination is a routine 50s gangster movie and a cheap one at that. Joey Sante is a wiseacre, rebellious kid of 11 who runs numbers for the local bookies. Joey's father disapproves of his disrespect and arrogance but his mother convinces him he will someday be a great man. Suddenly the scene changes and while the other characters age slightly (if at all), adolescent Joey is now 41 year old Steve Cochran playing a younger age. The rest of the film focuses on Joe Sante's organized crime career, rising through the ranks to eventually running his own organization. But after breaking with the big boss Paul Moran (Grant Withers in his final role), he suddenly becomes the object of a Senate probe and marks himself for extinction.
Sante's constant companion is Blackie (the affable Robert Strauss whose aging is suggested by hair frosting), first Joe's mentor while a boy, then his immediate superior, then his immediate subordinate and finally his trusted friend who does him in. Strauss had his chance to shore up if not carry the film, but his lackluster role got in the way due in great measure to uninspired direction.
The film assumes an air of self-importance, epic and biographical in concept and presented in Cinemascope, but never rises above a low grade "B" picture in any aspect. While it pretends to be a fascinating study of a hoodlum's life, it plods along like a routine stage drama. The only Noir element is Joe's seemingly conflicted character headed toward a fatalistic end. Joe is represented as a decent sort, supporting his mother (who accepts his largesse and then ultimately disowns him), keeping needy acquaintances on the payroll and even turning down gratuitous trysts with wanton floozies. He never betrays a friend, and kills people only when he absolutely must. We would be persuaded that Joe is really not a bad guy.
Corman's direction shows his simplistic style, but without the sight gags or wacky characters found in "Little Shop of Horrors" or "Bucket of Blood". The plot is forced, the script flat and the same blaring jazz soundtrack later used in "Shop" and "Bucket" is offered for suspense. Completely devoid of imagination, suspense, humor, interesting camera work or real empathy for any of the characters, the story lopes along until its inevitable, predictable conclusion.
Sorry Roger, suspense and schlock are two different concepts. You were in way over your head on this one.
Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933)
A potential masterpiece never realized.
Like the classic KING KONG, MYSTERY OF THE WAX MUSEUM is set in 1933 New York City, stars Fay Wray, has a monster (of sorts) and is produced by a major studio. But there the similarity ends; WAX MUSEUM is an opportunity lost and a potential masterpiece never realized.
WAX MUSEUM opens with thunder and lightening, and the clip-clop of horses in the street late on a rainy night. Alone with his exhibits in his wax museum, Ivan Igor (Lionel Atwill) is confronted by his larcenous partner Joe Worth (Edwin Maxwell). Worth reminds Igor of their financial insolvency caused by Igor's refusal to create and display sensational wax exhibits, then suggests a way to solve their financial dilemma.
Atwill is perfectly cast as Igor the demented sculptor. Fay Wray, sensuous as ever, plays the vulnerable Charlotte Duncan in a seemingly bit part, the ingenue upon whom Igor seeks to bestow the benefits of immortality in wax. The scene where Atwill attempts to console the horrified Wray that she will remain beautiful forever as a recreated wax statue of Marie Antoinette is unforgettable.
The plot develops adequately and reaches a satisfactory conclusion, ably accented by the musical score. The film has the familiar ambience of the 30s with abrupt entrances into plot and character situations and brash, sappy dialogue. But one incidental role undermines all else: that of Florence Dempsey (Glenda Farrell), a newspaper reporter whose assignment is investigating the strange activities at the wax museum, including corpses missing from the morgue. Farrell's role competes for screen time with the principal leads, yet serves little purpose other than so-called comic relief. The character's inane contrivances could be tolerated, but Farrell's dialogue is the problem, a relentless tirade of stupid slang words and metaphors bellowed in a raspy squeaking voice. This constant wisecracking quickly becomes irritating and intrusive, obviously inserted for no other purpose than to distract from the main plot and diminish the film's mood and effect. Farrell's overscripted character should have been deleted or composited into Wray's Charlotte Duncan, with Wray playing the role as a serious ingenue as was done after a fashion in its remake, HOUSE OF WAX. It would have at least saved the film.
The real "mystery" of WAX MUSEUM is the faulty script when everything else was right for this production: impressive two-strip technicolor, Atwill and Wray as leads and talented director Michael Curtiz (Yankee Doodle Dandy, Casablanca) at the helm. Warners seemingly intended to make a truly fascinating and frightening film, yet sabotaged its own efforts by adding needless distractions and contrivances for almost half the picture.
In conclusion, I would rate the film as worth watching now that its biggest flaw is identified, especially for Atwill's performance along with the other positive aspects of the picture. After watching it, you will know why Warners put it on the remake list right away.
I Bury the Living (1958)
Far above the ordinary for its time and genre
Occasionally a film achieves remarkable success in spite of its limitations. Such a movie is "I Bury the Living" which greatly exceeds the B-Grade movie standards of its time. This crafty chiller is well scripted, acted and tightly directed by Albert Band.
Richard Boone portrays Robert Kraft, prominent chairman of a large department store chain, who because of civic obligation reluctantly accepts the trusteeship of Immortal Hills Cemetery for a one year term. His reluctance soon gives way to fearful belief that his insertion of black pins into the imposing cemetery map in the caretaker's office can supernaturally cause the deaths of the targeted plot owners. Played off against Boone's role are characters such as the hapless victims, the usual skeptics and the crusty caretaker Andy McKee, aptly portrayed by Theodore Bikel. Equally participant are inanimate objects: the menacing cemetery map with protruding black and white pins, and the ever ringing telephone. The weather is bleak, the caretaker's office is visibly cold and the photography is stunning black and white, high contrast and mesmerizing. The eerie musical score that highlights the scenes inside the caretaker's office and the cemetery both day and night intensifies the suspense all the way to the startling conclusion.
Of interest is Boone's rather unusual role as the tormented Kraft in his only horror picture. Even before "Have Gun, Will Travel" Boone was far better known as a western frontiersman. Prominent actors such as Boone rarely appeared in pictures of this genre, and his rugged screen presence lifts this picture way above the ordinary.
A mystery intriguing as the story itself is the seeming disrespect accorded this film for 40 years. Released in B-movie theaters in mid-1958 (in a twin bill with the ridiculous, long-forgotten "Wink of an Eye"), it received limited exposure and was then gone. Now that "I Bury the Living" is on video, get a copy and judge it for yourself. This video will hold your interest, a sure keeper.