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Monday, July 30, 2018

The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973)

Directed by Peter Yates; produced by Paul Monash


Eddie Coyle (Robert Mitchum) is a life-long criminal. He’s not of high rank in the underworld’s hierarchy; he buys firearms, delivers contraband, runs errands. He’s not even a particularly capable crook; he once suffered the punishment of busted knuckles due to purchasing guns that were eventually traced, landing an important mob boss in prison. And now he’s facing at least two years in jail himself for transporting stolen goods. He’s contemplating informing on his colleagues as a means of reducing his prospective sentence. Considering his record of success, this may not be a good idea.


A number of popular actors reach a point in their careers when the demands of fame relax, and they need not take the roles that once were expected from them. In some cases, this leads to a certain artistic freedom - and marvellous performances. By the 1970s, Mitchum was no longer the box-office draw he had been, and he could portray characters different than he had. Thus, he became Eddie Coyle. Coyle is a decent man - for a criminal - a family man, a caring father and loving husband. It is his concern for his family that leads him to consider ratting on his colleagues. Coyle is also a loser, and though he is tough, he is at no point in control of events, however much he tries to be. It is this quality that creates the tragedy that forms the plot.


The title is justified in that we see much of Coyle’s associates, though they are friends in a rather loose manner. All the performances are very good, in particular Peter Boyle, as a bar-owner with hidden skills, and Steven Keats as a gun-seller. The latter actor, in a stand-out movie debut, does an excellent job of making an amoral weapons-dealer into a likeable man. As well, Richard Jordan gives a fine job as a young federal law agent, whose cynical manipulation of the criminals is both infuriating and fitting. (As an aside, Mitchum and Jordan would re-team, after a fashion, fifteen years later as recurring characters in the tv series The Equalizer, filling in for star Edward Woodward, following the latter’s heart attack; I don’t believe Mitchum and Jordan had scenes together in the series, however.)


The Friends of Eddie Coyle’s script is first-rate, unflinching and unsentimental in its portrayal of the ruthless and precarious world of the habitual criminal. The dialogue is natural. I have read criticisms of the casual use of a certain racial slur. That murderers, robbers, blackmailers and kidnappers should upset an audience by calling someone a bad name suggests the skewed times in which we live. But, more importantly, this was how things were. Irish-Americans of that time, especially in Boston and New York, referred to blacks in this manner, and not to use it or, worse, to use a euphemism, would be historically inaccurate and artistically dishonest. This was the milieu in which Mitchum’s character lived.


The movie had the direction it needed, slow and talky in one scene, then anxious and tense in another. Two scenes in particular, the first robbery, and a nocturnal gun deal, are very suspenseful. Director Yates could handle action (eg. Bullitt), drama (eg. The Dresser) and adventure (eg. The Deep), and doesn’t miss a step here. There is limited action, but what there is, is to the point.


The Friends of Eddie Coyle is an adult film. There is no nudity or sex, and the obscenities are rare - in keeping with the era. But it deals with real characters, people as complex and simple as people genuinely are. I remember dismissing this film (without watching it) as a young man, because it just didn’t seem my type of movie. As I aged, I realised that all types of movies are my type, if they are as good as this one.

Monday, July 23, 2018

Q Planes (a.k.a. Clouds Over Europe) (1939)

Directed by Tim Whelan; produced by Irving Asher


The newest aeroplanes with the latest equipment are disappearing all over the world. They vanish mysteriously and without a trace. On the case is Major Hammond (Ralph Richardson), an eccentric Secret Service operator, aided by test-pilot Tony McVane (Laurence Olivier) and abetted by his own sister, Kay (Valerie Hobson). Sorting through the clues, the corpses and the cops, the three find danger, romance and humour - not necessarily in that order.


The 1920s and ‘30s were the golden age of detective fiction, and not just in books. The pages in Punch magazine from those decades are filled with reviews of crime capers in print, on stage and on the big screen - though they seemed to switch to movies only after sound allowed complex dialogue. Q Planes may seem to be a spoof of the genre, but it fits very neatly within it, since the category encompassed both dark and light stories. Indeed, humour and levity were qualities often found in detective stories of the era, and that includes spy tales. Q Planes definitely takes the fun road.


The script is good, keeping away from anything too serious, except when Olivier talks about the missing air crews and their families, and a couple of references to the World War are sombre (Olivier compares waiting to fly on a dangerous mission to “going over the top” in the trenches of the the Western Front). For the most part, the dialogue is snappy and clever, veering hazardously close to self-parody (as when John Laurie, as an harassed newspaper editor, demands, “Less enthusiasm, please - this is Britain!”) but never reaching that point.


The real assets to the movie are the actors, especially Richardson. His breezy, happy-go-lucky yet dedicated character could easily have been the centre of a movie series, had not Richardson been fully occupied in other media. His eccentricity too could have fallen into caricature, but it never does, due to the seriousness that we see underneath the light-heartedness. While making what must be a thoroughly inedible stew, he continues to be obsessed with the missing aeroplanes; searching a wardrobe of identical hats and uniform umbrellas for just the right pair, only to choose the ones he is already using, suggests a man compulsive about his clothes, but no less realistic than Columbo and his raincoat. (There was an episode in which Mrs Columbo bought her husband a new coat; the result was not good for the case.)


Richardson has always given the impression, especially in his comedic roles, that he is thoroughly enjoying himself, and it is no different here. Olivier goes along happily, alternately moody and cheerful, as might be the case with a man who is falling in love with a girl he may not actually like. Hobson is annoying at times but without regret: she too has a job to do with regard to the missing aircraft, and resents any attempt by her brother to keep her out of it. The supporting players are mostly non-entities, except for Barrett (George Merritt), the aircraft manufacturer, whose delivery of lines suggests a heart attack is in his near future.


The plot itself is simple, and pretty much straight out of Bulldog Drummond, involving sinister foreign powers, secret weapons and an actionful and surprisingly violent climax. But the story is subsidiary to the characters, their fast-paced talk and the entertainment they give. Q Planes is a superior example of what must have been common fare at one time: a satisfying crime adventure, with plenty of fun.

Monday, July 16, 2018

The Midnight Story (1957)

Directed by Joseph Pevney; produced by Robert Arthur


The murder of a well-loved San Francisco priest shocks the city. One young man, a traffic policeman (Tony Curtis), an orphan who idolised the clergyman, wants in on the hunt for his killer. He thinks he has a lead after he sees a distraught mourner (Gilbert Roland) at the funeral. When his superiors dismiss his admittedly tenuous suspicions, Curtis goes undercover to meet Roland. His swift inclusion in the man’s close and warm-hearted family creates a conflict in the young cop which may endanger more than just his investigation.


Though ostensibly a mystery, The Midnight Story is more a character study, a drama revolving around several people. With this aspect, the mystery actually takes second place, providing a reason for the story, rather than the story itself. In fact, it is the crime, with its revelation of a weak motive in the finale, which drags the movie down.


The acting and the writing are good. Curtis quickly grows to care for the family into which he has been welcomed. He seems to alternate between suspecting Roland and defending him and, while this might be seen as a fault of the script, it actually reflects the callowness of the young policeman, and his earnest but inexperienced desire for justice. His romance with Roland’s strong-willed but susceptible cousin (Marisa Pavan) is believable, though Pavan herself doesn’t really suit the role of a girl much sought after by the neighbourhood Lotharios.


For that matter, the casting of Roland is a bit strange. He is too old for the role. He was in his fifties when the film was made, and I thought initially that his charcater’s mother (Argentina Brunetti) was his wife - calling her “Mama” is not out of keeping with what some long-married couples call each other. Brunetti herself was junior to Roland, and certainly didn’t look older. The mother’s younger son (Richard Monda) was played by a teenager, which accentuated the oddity of Roland’s casting. It changes the relationship of Curtis and Roland from friend/brother to mentor/father. All of this is incidental, however. Roland is easily capable enough to make his performance credible.


While the family drama portion of The Midnight Story is carried well, the mystery half is badly supported, so a whole-hearted endorsement cannot be given. The film works, but only modestly, a small movie that uses a crime to illustrate a domestic drama; certainly not a bad device, but not entirely successful. And the title has nothing to do with the tale - nothing occurs at midnight, not even the murder.

Sunday, July 8, 2018

How to Steal a Million (1966)



Directed by William Wyler; produced by Fred Kohlmar

A talented artist (Hugh Griffith) has become rich forging paintings he alleges to be by renowned masters. He sells only to the rich, so he laughs off the concerns of his daughter (Audrey Hepburn). When he loans a statue, alleged to be by Cellini, to a museum, however, her worries become real: a simple test, required by insurance, will reveal the statue to be a fake. Hepburn sees an escape for her father’s impending imprisonment when she catches a burglar (Peter O’Toole) in her house: she asks him to steal her father’s statue from the museum.


Escapist and fun, How to Steal a Million relies on the chemistry of the two stars to carry it, and they don’t disappoint. That’s not to claim that another pair would not have succeeded as well as Hepburn and O’Toole; the claim is that as decent as the script is, and as capable as the direction, it is the interaction between the main characters that makes the movie. I am one of those viewers who thinks Hepburn adds class to any film she is in. Her role as the caring daughter and intelligent working girl (though we never learn exactly what her job is) is undemanding, and something she could have done in her sleep. O’Toole, in one of his rare comedies, is suitably suave but periodically bemused by Hepburn and unnerved by his attraction for her. He gently slips into the spirit of the story; there is none of the intensity he demonstrates in other roles.


Griffith is excellent as the painter who has been having the time of his life forging masterpieces, enjoying the resulting wealth but energised simply by creating what others could have. Eli Wallach, like O’Toole, usually to be found in tougher parts, has a good role, but not really a necessary one. His character is a rather nice man, an industrialist obsessed with the ‘Cellini’ statue, and enamoured of Hepburn.


The script, as mentioned, is decent. There are some good lines (“You don’t think I’d steal anything that didn’t belong to me, do you?”) and the story provides a simple heist scheme dressed up with some complications. There are no surprises. The direction by Wyler, the artist who directed many great films,  doesn’t break new ground, and was probably easily achieved.


From the review so far, it may seem that How to Steal a Million is damned with faint praise. On the contrary, it is something that is rare: a light, fun, romantic adventure film, offering nothing much more than a couple of hours of enjoyable movie-watching. Envelopes were not pushed, boundaries were not tested, innovation was not created – thank goodness. What we have instead are two unique actors – real stars – directed by a master craftsman and working with capable supporting players, on attractive sets, likely having as good a time making the movie as we have in watching it.

If I see other films as fun as How to Steal a Million, I would be surprised, but pleased.

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

Strongroom (1962)

Directed by Vernon Sewell; produced by Guido Coen


A trio of robbers (Derren Nesbitt, Keith Faulkner, Morgan Sheppard) plan to rob a bank after it has been vacated for a long holiday weekend. The extra days with no one in the bank will provide more time between the robbery and its discovery. But no plan is perfect, and they find that the manager (Colin Gordon) and his secretary (Ann Lynn) have remained behind to finish some paper-work. The robbers lock them in the air-tight vault and escape, intending to let the police know about the pair, long before they run out of air. But that scheme too hits a snag, and criminals and victims find themselves on separate sides of the same life-and-death struggle.


Another largely unknown British movie, well-acted, well-directed and well-scripted, Strongroom creates real tension with just a few characters and a limited budget. The acting is the most noticeably successful element of the film, with excellent performances given by players who were all unknown to me, except for Sheppard, a character actor who has appeared in as many American productions by now as British. The three criminals create personalities that are rare in films these days: ordinary, essentially decent men who want to make money fast but who don’t fancy themselves master-minds; neither are they ruthless and cruel. They don’t want to hurt anyone, and certainly don’t want to go to prison for murder. Their dilemma - to save the lives of their unexpected prisoners yet remain free - is the principal crisis of the film. Equally believable are the prisoners in the strong-room.


The credibility of the characters is enhanced by what we learn of them. They develop as they go through stages of frustration, panic, despair and anger. The writing allows some digression from the crisis at hand, but it is always hanging over the people involved. The script and the direction combine to make compelling situations that make the viewer want to urge minor characters to hurry up and quit wasting time - many of them don’t know that lives are at stake.


Strongroom could very well be adapted for the stage, as the real action is in the behaviour and dialogue of the characters. There are no villains here, just normal people doing what they oughtn’t, and others caught where they shouldn’t be.

Sunday, July 1, 2018

Down Three Dark Streets (a.k.a. Down 3 Dark Streets) (1954)



Directed by Arnold Laven; produced by Arthur Gardner and Jules V Levy


A typical, hard-working FBI officer (Kenneth Tobey) is involved with three cases simultaneously: those of a wanted killer, a car-theft ring and a blackmailer. During a visit to woman who claims to have information on one of these cases, the officer is shot to death, and it’s up to his superior (Broderick Crawford) to find out which of the late man’s inquiries led to his murder.


The title of Down Three Dark Streets is metaphorical, referring to the mysteries involved in the trio of cases. It makes the movie sound more of a film noir than it is. It’s actually a routine police procedural. It is interesting to see a fictional detective investigating more than one case at once; I gather that this is normal in law enforcement agencies – the idea of one policeman for every crime must be as close to paradise as most cops dare dream – but I think I’ve seen it elsewhere only on episodes of Barney Miller. In the event, though, this intriguing idea doesn’t really make Down Three Dark Streets intriguing itself. We move from one case to another as different leads are followed and, while this keeps us watching, it does little more than that.


Crawford is a bit of a tough actor for me to place. Not compelling enough to be a lead and too strong to be a supporting player, it is telling that his best role and movie was All the King’s Men, in which he shared screen-time with John Ireland, much more of a character actor. In Down Three Dark Streets, Crawford does well but his character never involved me. The other performers do better, especially Martha Hyer, as a woman with a doomed fascination for a killer; Ruth Roman, as the frightened blackmail-victim, and Marisa Pavan, as a brave and resourceful blind woman.


The real culprit in the film is the writing. This is credited to ‘The Gordons’ (Gordon Gordon (who could have been The Gordons by himself) and Mildred Gordon) and Bernard C Schoenfeld. The Gordons seemed to have been principally novelists, perhaps best known, if that can be said in this case, for the novel on which the movie That Darn Cat was based. Here, the story, or stories, are adequate, and no more. The supporting characters carry them, not the script. And the motivation for the killing of Tobey is never revealed; neither is the reason for the call to Tobey in the first place.


Even with better writing, though, Down Three Dark Streets may not have been a success. While the trio of cases give a difference to the format of the movie, they also suggest that no one component was strong or interesting enough on its own. Consequently, each becomes padding to the others. The climax has minor tension, but that is the most that may be said of it.

Down Three Dark Streets is not even an adequate time-filler, as one feels that the time could have been devoted to any number of more entertaining films.