Coherence (2013)

Directed by James Ward Byrkit; produced by Lene Bausager

A small group of friends gather for dinner on the night a comet passes very close to Earth. As the evening progresses, some unnerving events transpire – cell phones break, the internet shuts down and power fails. Though light is provided by a household generator, there is still no contact with the rest of the world. When an attempt is made to speak to the people in the only other illuminated house in the pitch-black neighbourhood, however, what the friends find challenges their perceptions of reality.

A most intriguing plot is at the centre of this low-budget psychological thriller. Though the idea has been used before, it has not been utilised in quite this way, and benefits from the notion that the characters have little control over events, or even over themselves.

The script is minimal, much of the dialogue being improvised. This could have been disastrous, if the actors involved tried to seize the spotlight for themselves. But, guided by the director, they instead move the story forward. This also contributes, I think, to the plot’s credibility, in that these are reasonably intelligent people trying to deal with an unreasonable situation. They attempt to come up with solutions, yet these solutions are often contradictory, and lead to complications, furthering the story.

Filmed in the director’s own home, the movie peopled by Byrkit’s actor-friends, there is a believability in the associations the characters have, and in their familiarity with the surroundings. That the setting and the actors are well-known to the director seems to lend strength to the claustrophobia of the movie. The house becomes a kind of refuge from what is occurring outside, yet that in itself is turned on its head with later revelations about some of the characters. This last quality is one of the more disturbing elements in the plot.

The acting is very good, coming from people with whom most viewers are probably unfamiliar. Nicholas Brendon (‘Xander’ from the tv series Buffy the Vampire Slayer) and Elizabeth Gracen are probably those most seen previously.

One of the flaws in Coherence is that though the characters are not unlikeable, the audience doesn’t come to care about them enough. They are not interesting in themselves; it is their actions and, in many cases, their words, that involve the viewer. This is a minor problem, though, and certainly not off-putting. Another flaw, again minor, is that the ending might have been more definite; though, in truth, it may be concluded that there really could be no definition in the ending of such a plot.

Even with its inadequacies – which aren’t really important - Coherence is one of the more original science fiction thrillers I’ve seen. Lean and stripped of special effects, it shows what can be accomplished with imagination and talent.

The Man With a Cloak (1951)

Directed by Fletcher Markle; produced by Stephen Ames

In 1848 New York, the servants of Charles Thevenet (Louis Calhern), former Napoleonic general, plot against him, hoping to inherit by default his great wealth. Led by erstwhile actress Lorna Bounty (Barbara Stanwyck), their plans are complicated by the arrival of young Madeline Minot (Leslie Caron), who begs the old man to send his money to his grandson, fighting for a republic in France. Into this tense situation wanders an alcoholic, penniless poet calling himself Dupin (Joseph Cotton), whose effect may change everything.

The Man With a Cloak’s title reminded me somewhat of the tagline of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom: “The man in the hat is back”. So what? Everyone in the 1930s wore a hat… And a cloak was not quite distinctive in mid-19th century North America… However, in this case, the cloak may provide a clue to a mysterious stranger’s identity, and what motivates him.

The film is an unusual period drama. It doesn’t try for a gothic feel, though the setting, with its mansion, young ingénue, conspiring servants and inadvertent interloper may suggest the genre. Instead, it is a film noir in fancy dress, with a hero drifting into town, the femme fatale and the innocent heroine all trying to outwit each other. In this vein, The Man With a Cloak does well, though not as well as it should have. It comes from a story by John  Dickson Carr, who may be familiar to readers of detective novels as the master of the locked room mystery. There is, however, no locked room, and not really much mystery.

The script is better than the story, with some good dialogue, especially between Dupin and Lorna, both dissatisfied with their situations. The latter hopes that money will restore her world, while the former looks forward mostly to his next glass of wine. Even so, both have personality that runs deeper than their shallow ambitions.

That the movie is involving is principally thanks, not to the script or the setting, but to the acting which brings to life the interesting characters. Cotton and Stanwyck in particular give very good performances, and Calhern is on target as the dissolute and mercurial old Frenchman. Veteran support-player Margaret Wycherly has a good rôle as a maid and half-hearted conspirator, who sees a bitter humour in most things. Jim Backus plays a bar-tender and, though he too is convincing, the character is a little too mundane (as in ‘of the ordinary world’) for the others. Perhaps the setting would have been better in a more isolated country village. Hank Worden has a bit part as a cab-driver.

It is the characters then that propel the drama and make the film worth watching. Some aspects are anachronistic: children are seen ‘trick-or-treating’ at Hallowe’en, though that tradition had not yet arisen in 1848, and a significant character comes across as unknown in that year, though he was, in truth, rather famous by then. The movie might have profited by being set a few years earlier; 1848 may have been chosen for the revolutionary connotations which bring Madeline to New York.

The Man With a Cloak is not as striking as it could have been but nevertheless makes for an entertaining 84 minutes.

Dial 1119 (1950)

Directed by Gerald Mayer; produced by Richard Goldstone

Deranged killer Gunther Wyckoff (Herbert Marshall) has escaped from a prison mental hospital. He manages to ride a bus back to his home-town, where he intends to confront Dr John Faron (Sam Levene), whose examination saved him from execution but also resulted in his incarceration. Finding the psychiatrist not at his home, Wyckoff waits in a bar across the street. When he’s identified, he takes the staff and patrons hostage.

A low-budget thriller, Dial 1119 benefits from good performances but little else. The plot of such films, largely confined to one or two sets, with little physical action but a tense atmosphere, calls for rather specialised direction. That is not found in Dial 1119. This is Mayer’s first feature film in the director’s chair; he worked on a couple more movies before dedicating himself to television, where he did solid but unspectacular service for more than thirty years. Perhaps he was still learning here.

The script, too, is rather ordinary, with nothing particularly outstanding about the story or the dialogue. We never learn what Wyckoff did to be imprisoned – though we know it involved murder – and while we are told about his delusions, we are not informed of the crimes they were necessary to justify. The movie is set in one of those generic cities that filled 1940s and ‘50s film noir - in this case, ‘Terminal City’ (talk about a dead-end…), the ‘jewel of the Middle Valley’ – with its generic streets and police force.

The characters, I suppose, are meant to be a cross-section of humanity: a middle-aged Lothario (Leon Ames, whose real name was Wycoff, similar to the killer’s) and his would-be mistress (Andrea King), a fading bar-fly (Virginia Field), a fed-up reporter (James Bell), and a waiter (Keefe Brasselle) working until he receives a call about his wife, giving birth at the hospital. William Conrad may be the only recognisable face for many viewers, playing the bar-tender.

Though the acting is good, the characters are not entirely credible. It is very difficult to believe that Ames’s businessman would be able to lure a good-looking, much younger woman on a weekend trip to his cabin. And even in 1950, it seems hard to credit a man working while his wife had a child. The writing doesn’t make any of them likeable, except perhaps Conrad’s bar-tender, a bitter man ironically named Chuckles who, nonetheless, comes across as gruffly caring (eg. refusing to give the reporter, suffering from ulcers, anything stronger than a ‘sherry flip’.) Since nothing is revealed about Chuckles but his contempt for his work-place and its patrons, any sympathy created for him is likely due solely to the actor’s ability to manipulate a glance, a hesitation.

Interestingly, many of the actors went on to bigger rôles in tv: Conrad as Cannon and Nero Wolfe (in which he was directed by Mayer in 1981), Marshall in Daktari, and Ames in a number of series, in all of which he seemed to be among the most popular performer. As well, Conrad was heavily involved in radio and would, two years after Dial 1119, start one of his best roles on radio, that of Matt Dillion in Gunsmoke.) Dick Simmons, who portrays the on-air reporter of the news programme in this film, became well-known as Sergeant Preston of the Yukon. On the other hand, Levene (who, with Conrad, was in 1946’s The Killers), would, in the same year as Dial 1119, originate the part of Nathan Detroit in Broadway’s Guys and Dolls. Dial 1119 thus had talent in front of the camera – but not much elsewhere.

The movie has some minor aspects of interest, such as the fact that a bus driver keeps a loaded semi-automatic pistol above the sun-visor over his head (in case a passenger doesn’t pay his fare, perhaps), and the novelty of a bar having television (with a wide ‘reflective screen’). And the title refers to the emergency number people could dial for police, fire department or ambulance, a precursor to 911.

But over all, Dial 1119, has little to offer aside from thespian talent not fully realised. There are better, more suspenseful thrillers to see.

El Cuerpo (a.k.a. The Body)(2012)

Directed by Oriol Paulo; produced by Mercedes Gamero, Mikel Lejarza, Joaquín Padró, Mar Targarona

Detective Inspector Peña (José Coronado) is called to a late-night incident involving a traffic accident. Automobile mishaps are not his field, however: he was summoned because the man struck by a car – and now in a coma – was a morgue guard, and had called the police before fleeing in terror from his work-place. When Peña and his team arrive at the morgue, they discover the body of Mayka Villaverde (Belén Rueda), deceased just that day, to be missing – and signs that the person or persons responsible may still be on the premises.

This is the beginning of a thrilling story of deceit, murder, obsession and, perhaps, the supernatural. El Cuerpo relies most for its quality on the writing, though this is not to imply that the acting or direction are inferior. Indeed, they are just the opposite. Not having seen many Spanish movies, I am not familiar with any the players in this one; if they give similar performances in other work, then I expect them to have successful careers.

Coronado may be seen to be the lead, but he really shares that spot with Hugo Silva, as the dead woman’s husband, Álex Ulloa. To a lesser extent in terms of screen-time but not in significance to the plot, Rueda must also be mentioned. In fact, an element of the story depends upon her portrayal of the powerful and manipulative Mayka. Though the other actors are not as important, perhaps Aura Garrido’s part as Carla Miller, Ulloa’s girlfriend, should be considered, as well.

The direction is very well-handled. It makes effective use of what might be seen as thriller – even horror – movie stereotypes, such as the dark and stormy night. While many films utilise them as if the makers hope to be seen as original, one suspects that Paulo includes them for a purpose, to lead the viewer along a certain path. Whether it’s the path the viewer should take or whether he’s being fooled is what must be determined.

The writing, particularly in demonstrating character, is commendable. As stated, Mayka’s personality is vital to the story, and she is effectively displayed not only as someone who always gets what she wants, but who is insecure about keeping it, once she gets it. Peña’s character has been clearly traumatised by the loss of his wife years before, and that influences his behaviour on the job, while Ulloa may even create sympathy, despite his infidelity to his wife.

The story is the key ingredient of El Cuerpo. It reminded me in some ways of the cerebral work of William Link and Richard Levinson. The viewer must pay attention. If one doesn’t, the essentials of the plot are rehearsed later, for the resolution, but one may kick oneself for neglecting them along the way.

That resolution may not appeal to everybody. Does it stretch credulity? Is it too far-fetched? I don’t believe it to be either unbelievable or unrealistic. It’s rather like a jigsaw puzzle: everything works to create a whole, and the way the pieces fit requires no forcing or cheating. Whether one likes the image the completed puzzle presents is another matter. I found El Cuerpo to be intelligently and cleverly written.

One of the interesting aspects of El Cuerpo is that even if the viewer doesn’t think the story succeeds, its execution will likely be enough to entertain and thrill. And that goal won’t disappoint many viewers.