The Lineup (1958)

Directed by Don Siegel; produced by Jaime del Valle

A violent and inexplicable series of events at the Port of San Francisco put the police onto a big drug-smuggling operation that uses unwitting and expendable couriers. The detectives on the case face a double deadline: to find the drugs before the villains do, and to stop them from eliminating the innocent couriers.

The opening of The Lineup features a theft, speeding cars, a hit and run, a police shooting and a car wreck - all in the first two or three minutes. The pace of the beginning isn’t maintained throughout the film, nor is it meant to be; it is simply notice given to the viewer that he’s in for a tense and harsh hour and a half. This is actually a cinematic episode of the crime drama of the same name, which aired on radio and television from 1950 to 1960, though the treatment the story receives in the movie would never have passed tv censors of the time.

The Lineup is not very violent or bloody compared to films of today, and, indeed, even at the time, there were movies with more shootings and killings. But the suspense of the direction and the intensity of the main characters’ villainy are impressive.

Eli Wallach was someone who lived to act. Aside from apparently being an all-round nice guy, Clint Eastwood praised him, Marilyn Monroe learned from him and Henry Fonda asked his professional advice. Remembered principally as a supporting player (as in The Good, the Bad and the Ugly), he is the star here, unusually - for a movie spin-off of a popular tv series - relegating the series stars to secondary or tertiary status.

But Wallach shows that he is fully in command of the movie. His character, Dancer, is a brutal psychopath, masquerading as a sympathetic individual, even trying to better himself socially. But there is always something just beneath the surface, a seething menace that makes the character compelling, and the actor well worth watching.

He is amply supported by Robert Keith (the lesser known father to Brian Keith), who portrays Dancer’s partner, the cool head of the duo, who functions almost as Dancer’s agent. Richard Jaeckel plays an alcoholic get-away driver, while Warner Anderson and Emile Meyer fill the roles of police detectives.

The direction (Siegel also directed the first Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and Dirty Harry, as well as the pilot episode of The Lineup tv series) is sharp, and keeps the viewer trying to see what will happen next. Good use is made of San Francisco locations.

The script by Stirling Silliphant (who also wrote In the Heat of the Night) is excellent, running from the deliberately mundane talk of the police to the dangerous and slightly unreal banter between the murderers. Even so, the plotting is not neglected, and the audience is fully involved in the attempts of the police to cut off the killers before they reach their ultimate victim.

A gripping thriller that is part police procedural and part film noir, The Lineup benefits immensely from its director, its writer and, most of all, its star.

Strangers in the Night (1944)

Directed by Anthony Mann; produced by Rudolph E Abel (associate producer)

Johnny Meadows (William Terry), a U.S. marine recovering from wounds received in the Pacific war, travels to California to meet Rosemary, the woman whose letters brought him back from depression during his initial convalescence. Half in love with his pen-pal, he meets Leslie Ross (Virginia Grey), a doctor travelling to the same town. They hit it off, though Meadows still looks forward to finding Rosemary. When he is greeted instead by the girl’s mother, the formidable Mrs Blake (Helen Thimig), he realises that something is amiss, and finds himself part of a triangle - or is it a quadrilateral? - that could end in murder.

An interesting movie which is good but not very good, Strangers in the Night (a title which has nothing to do with the later, popular song and, in fact, nothing to do with the film’s plot) is weighed down by several elements. One is the acting.

Except for one most notable exception, the leads’ talent is not outstanding. Terry and Grey are not overly convincing in their performances; the secondary characters, Mrs Blake’s companion (Edith Barrett) and Dr Ross’s nurse (Anne O’Neal) are better.

The production values are poor, and the script, while providing decent dialogue, relies too heavily upon coincidence (two Americans in 1944 who share a love of Housman’s very English A Shropshire Lad meeting by chance on a train is an example.) The central romance is lukewarm and unbelievable, and the motivation for the criminal’s involvement with Meadows is vague at best.

Strangers in the Night does, however, have advantages. The writing does pack a surprising amount in less than an hour’s running time, and there are no boring moments. The story, as opposed to the script, is an involving one. Written by the successful mystery-author Philip MacDonald, it deliberately leads one toward an almost inevitable conclusion - but not all is obvious. The direction - this is one of Mann’s earlier works - is also satisfying, making the most of camera angles and setting.

The best part of the film, though, is Helen Thimig’s performance. She creates one of the creepiest characters you will see in a movie. Even Mrs Blake’s kindest remarks come off as unsettling, as if everything she does or says is part of an agenda known only to her.

Her smiles give the impression of someone who believes her every action is perfectly fine and natural, and every word or deed that doesn’t assist them is a capital crime. And yet, there is always a question in the background as to whether this is really the person she projects. Thimig grew up in the Austrian theatre, and came from a famous acting family, so she knew her art.

Strangers in the Night is, perhaps, an average low budget early film noir in many ways, see-sawing between some good quality points and some damaging characteristics. But with a decent story-line, helpful secondary actors and Ms Thimig’s excellent work, this is a movie that will be more enjoyable than otherwise. Just don’t blame me if you see Mrs Blake’s sickly and patently insincere grin in your nightmares.

Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (2003)

Directed by Peter Weir; produced by Samuel Goldwyn Jr, Duncan Henderson, Peter Weir

In 1805, the new French Empire has subdued all of Europe, and only Britain stands between Napoleon and world domination. To help cripple its remaining enemy, France has sent a warship, the Acheron, to raid British commerce in the south Atlantic. HMS Surprise, under Captain Jack Aubrey (Russell Crowe) is despatched to sink or capture her. But the Acheron is faster, better armed and built in a manner that renders her almost impervious to Surprise’s guns, and commanded by a man almost as good a seaman as Aubrey. Nonetheless, Aubrey and his crew mean to defeat her, at all costs.

You won’t see a better or more accurate cinematic depiction of life and battle in the days of sail than Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World. Adapted from the tenth novel in Patrick O’Brian’s ‘Aubrey’ series, everyone, from writers and producers to costumers and casting directors, knows his stuff.

The acting is first rate, headed by Crowe and Paul Bettany, as ship’s surgeon Stephen Maturin. They anchor the film with their character’s friendship that is often combative, due to their conflicting and complimentary personalities. Entirely credible, they are likeable and sympathetic, but fit perfectly in the setting. The movie is one in which great thought was clearly placed into which actors to hire, from veterans, such as Robert Pugh (as the ship’s master) to Max Perkis and the other youngsters who play the midshipmen.

As good as are the performances, it is the writing and direction that make Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World a masterpiece of the action/adventure genre. The story is very well researched, from midshipmen as young as twelve (naval officers started their careers while still children) to sailors who did their duty barefooted (the better to run and stand on yard-arms and climb rigging.)

Interesting as well are the social aspects in the story: in an age when a gentleman was rated by the number of bottles of port he could consume at one sitting, mild drunkenness after dinner was expected. The naval exploits are loaned verisimilitude by being based on those of the real-life admiral, Lord Cochrane.

These features are incorporated without comment, a technique of direction which makes them appear natural; after all, why would sailors remark upon something that is an everyday occurrence? Yet those traits of seamanship that are necessary to understand do not leave the viewer bewildered, thanks to the use of Bettany’s character. Maturin is a landlubber, really, a doctor who has taken service with the Royal Navy, a superb surgeon - and amateur naturalist - who nonetheless is at sea when it comes to the sea. He is not shy about asking the officers what is going on; when he learns, the audience learns.

The opposing yet complimentary characters of Aubrey and Maturin provide two views of life onboard a ship in the Napoleonic Wars and, indeed, two views of the society of the day. Aubrey approves of discipline, following orders and hierarchy, while Maturin is what was called then a ‘radical’ (he is termed such at one point by his friend), who believes in a teetotal navy and the abolition of flogging.

The writing is such that it can present both opinions sympathetically: Maturin denounces a ship’s captain’s dictatorship, stating that a claim that ‘people need leadership’ has justified tyranny from Nero to Napoleon. And he’s right. Aubrey, however, knows that the only thing that avoids inefficiency, crime and, worst, factionalism, on board the tiny, isolated world of a sailing ship is unswerving discipline. And he’s right, too.

These examples of fine writing, when on the screen, are also examples of fine direction. But the spectacular scenes, of course, are noticed more. The battles are exciting and realistic - the way iron balls go through a wooden ship makes one wonder how any sailor remained alive and any ship afloat - while the tempest at Cape Horn (notorious for its storms) will have a viewer on his seat’s edge.

Whether one demands action, historical accuracy or drama, Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World is very difficult to beat, by any standard.

I See a Dark Stranger (a.k.a. The Adventuress) (1946)

Directed by Frank Launder; produced by Sidney Gillat and Frank Launder

Irish girl Bridie Quilty (Deborah Kerr) has been brought up on her father’s stories, or, rather, story, of brave deeds in the Easter Rebellion against the British, despite the fact that most people simply humour the man and his fantasy of being a hero. A few years later, as a young woman in 1944, Bridie leaves her native village for Dublin, where she tries to convince her father’s alleged old comrade to enrol her in the Irish Republican Army. The veteran revolutionary, however, now prefers peace and negotiation. Bridie is disgusted at his ‘softness’, and an encounter with a stranger on a train allows her to join the current war against Britain. But the young woman soon finds that being a spy is not all adventure and excitement, and she soon has reason to regret her thoughtless and childish ambitions.

A movie about a British-hating Irish nationalist aiding German spies is an unlikely film to be made just after the Second World War, but the team of Gilliat and Launder were rather daring in a quiet, unobtrusive English way.

Though Irish nationalist aspirations are treated understandingly here, Bridie’s revolutionary fervour is shown to be what it is: the immature dreams of an innocent. This helps the film tremendously, as does the three-dimensional portrayal of all the major characters, and even most of the minor ones.

Kerr does an excellent job rendering her character and softens some of what may have been abrasiveness in other hands (Bridie’s naïvté can be a bit annoying at times). Trevor Howard gives good support as an academic in the war-time role of army officer, who is alternately perplexed, exasperated and enamoured of Bridie.

Perhaps not oddly, considering the producers, it is the secondary characters and those who portray them that stand out. Raymond Huntley (also seen in Pimpernel Smith and Night Train to Munich, both of which I recently reviewed) has an excellent role as a wry, dry German spy, while Garry Marsh and Tom Macauley are droll as two security officers, who might actually be satisfactory at their duties, if they applied themselves.

The script is sharp and, though not as witty as some of Gilliat and Launder’s work, is intelligent and entertaining. It leavens what could have been a heavy subject with humour, never out of place, and is dominated by chance, throwing spanners into plans. (For instance, Huntley is a cool and smart operator, but when he gets one thing wrong, it causes confusion and anxiety for Bridie.)

A month ago, I reviewed State Secret, produced by Launder and Gilliat, and directed by the latter. His work was good but not excellent. Launder is in the director’s chair this time, and the pace and involvement are noticeably stronger. This may be due to other causes, of course, but I See a Dark Stranger benefits from a director who seems to know the benefits of keeping things going.

An unusual drama, with touches of comedy, I See a Dark Stranger is propelled by good performances, writing and direction, the ingredients for success.