HOUSE OF CARDS: Little Movie Lost?

George Peppard has his hands full; good thing he apparently has six of them!

I haven’t seen House of Cards (HoC) in years, mostly because I haven’t been able to find it on DVD or any other format that I can afford that would work with my good old American DVD player.  I can’t even find a trailer for it, although I've found plenty for the 1993 drama by the same name starring Kathleen Turner as a mother trying to help her apparently autistic child. However, thanks to the many times I saw HoC on TBS and other local channels in my youth, I remember it like I saw it yesterday!

Dig that far-out groovy Peter Max-style poster, man!

During the 1960s, Universal Pictures made a mini-genre out of the Lighthearted International Technicolor Romantic Suspense Thriller, with such rollicking adventures as Charade; Arabesque; Mirage; Blindfold, and A Man Could Get Killed. Before making HoC, director John Guillerman had directed leading man George Peppard in the 1966 World War 1 thriller The Blue Max and the 1968 private eye drama P.J. (Note to Vinnie, all George Peppard fans, and all fans of Disney’s animated school comedy series Recess: Yes, P.J.’s last name is in fact Detweiler! But I digress....) I’ve always felt that HoC was one of the loopiest of the lot from its opening sequence: tracking shots of Paris from a corpse's-eye-view! There it is, floating in the River Seine practically unnoticed by the populace. Having grown up in a big city (NYC, for those who came in late), I know city dwellers tend to be blasé about things no matter what city they live in, but come on!

The many faces of Barnaby Shaw & pals

Peppard plays Reno Davis, a sort of hip 1960s Hemingway type who drifts from one country to another, either writing his novel or getting into boxing matches. Indeed, when we first meet Reno, he’s getting the hell beaten out of him in a Paris boxing ring. One night, someone shoots at him—and discovers the triggerman is a frightened child, Paul de Villemont (played memorably by the haunted-eyed Barnaby Shaw). Reno drags the little sharpshooter home to his surprised widowed mom, Anne, played by the luminous Inger Stevens with a vulnerable sophistication reminiscent of Eva Marie Saint in North by Northwest. To quote New York Times movie critic A.H. Weiler, “Miss Stevens is...pretty enough to turn any adventurer's head,” and Reno and Anne almost lose their own heads in more ways than one. You see, it turns out the glamorous but troubled Anne is the American widow of a French general; she and Paul are virtual prisoners of her sinister in-laws and their cohorts, including British actor Keith Michell (TV’s The Merry Wives of Windsor and Henry VIII and His Six Wives, among others) as the secretive psychiatrist Dr. Morillon. Anne and Paul take a shine to Reno, and the feeling is more or less mutual. No surprise, really; at the very least, Reno’s iconoclastic loner routine is surely a welcome change of pace from the Daphne DuMaurier types slinking around the family chateau. Anne hires Reno as Paul’s tutor/companion. The DuMaurier types don’t exactly welcome Reno with open arms, which may also explain why men in Anne’s orbit don’t seem to live too long whenever they try to help her and Paul, including that poor slob we saw floating lifeless in the Seine earlier, one Sidney Scott (who doesn’t even get a credit in the film for his trouble, poor guy). 

It takes more than guns and Orson Welles as El Exigente to make Reno lose his cool!

Soon we viewers are catapulted from DuMaurier Land to Robert Ludlum Lite as the chateau’s occupants turn out to be not just any old Eurotrash stuffed shirts, but actually part of a Fascist group led by the powerful Leschenhaut, played by Orson Welles at his haughty and sinister best. Seems that Papa wanted his little man to be brought up as a Hitler youth! Before you can say “Alfred Hitchcock sent me,” Paul is kidnapped, Reno is framed for murder, and he and Anne (who’s not overjoyed about bodyguard Reno dropping the ball with her child; as a mother myself, I’m on Anne’s side!) are chasing and being chased all over Paris and Rome trying to save Paul and the world from these dastardly so-and-so’s.  House of Cards was adapted from renowned mystery author Stanley Ellin’s 1967 novel, and set in opulent locations including the Colosseum and all manner of manors all over France. True, some of the plot twists in James P. Bonner’s screenplay (actually a nom de plume for the screenwriting team of Irving Ravetch and Harriet Frank Jr., who brought us Hud, Hombre, The Cowboys, and Norma Rae, among others) stretch credibility to the breaking point (especially Dr. Morillon’s true identity). Also, some of the more attention-grabbing stuff is never explained, although I’m willing to blame some of that on TBS editing the version I saw on TV (besides, sponsors have to squeeze in commercials; they have to eat, too, I guess). Despite these quibbles, HoC still manages to be entertaining. When I first saw it on TV in my younger days, I found Francis Lai’s score to be a little syrupy for my taste, but it’s grown on me over the years. George Peppard, in his prime, was well-cast as a cynical rogue, with his all-American good looks, hard-boiled flippancy, and breezy charm. He cracked me up whenever he improvised outlandish excuses to authority figures, like in the Fountain of Trevi scene and this sexy sequence with leading lady Inger Stevens:

"Reno, thank goodness you're here! This is the stuffiest family reunion ever!"

Inger Stevens had been a favorite of mine since I first saw her on the TV series version of The Farmer’s Daughter. I always sensed something unconventional about her. Indeed, Stevens did have difficulties in life, and left us far too soon, but once you saw her, you couldn’t forget her. I thought Stevens was an excellent match for Peppard both physically and personality-wise, with screen presence aplenty. It wasn’t just Stevens’ striking blonde beauty and honeyed alto voice that made her stand out; she also had a warmth that belied her Nordic Ice Maiden looks, and a knack for being at once worldly and wholesome. This quality is reflected in Stevens’ fab Edith Head costumes, too.

This wildly complex thriller probably shouldn’t be watched by anyone with a migraine or a short attention span—but if you're in the mood for a well-cast conspiracy yarn that doesn't take itself too seriously, keep an eye out for HoC in your TV movie listings. Better yet, bug the folks at Universal and urge them to at least put out a House of Cards print-on-demand DVD!

A smorgasbord of George Peppard scenes (with and without Inger Stevens) for your viewing pleasure!

In any language, House of Cards is good fun if you can find it!

TO CATCH A THIEF: Cary On Stealing

Admit it, you need a vacation like nobody’s business;  don’t we all? Wouldn’t you love to spoil yourself with a fab vacation in France, on the beach in Cannes with baubles and beauties (of both genders)? Well, Alfred Hitchcock’s To Catch a Thief (TCaT) is the next best thing! Just look at those lovely travel posters in the opening credits…listen to Lyn Murray’s score, the music sparkling like the clear blue ocean, automatically putting you in the mood for a swanky weekend on the Riviera…hear that bloodcurdling cry shattering the air as another wealthy woman finds out the hard way that she’s been robbed of her precious jewels. It’s enough to make a gal wail, “Ohhh! We can’t have nice things!”

If Art Buchwald says so, it must be so! No?

The jewel robbery epidemic in the South of France has all the earmarks of the notorious jewel thief John Robie (Cary Grant), better known as “The Cat,” being a cat burglar and all. This is news to John, as he’d long since given up thieving after becoming a hero of the French Resistance Army during World War 2. This whole copycat-burglar thing is cramping John’s style, not to mention his retirement and freedom: everyone and his Aunt Lillian is sure that The Cat’s come back, and the gendarmes would be only too happy to see him caught red-handed. There’s even an item in renowned columnist Art Buchwald’s column spreading rumors about the notorious John Robie’s return! (Can John sue Buchwald for libel, I wonder?)

A narrow escape, with just one Hitch! (And hints of a future film on the left!)

Are the French Riviera’s jewelry and their wearers safe—or do they need safes? On top of that, John’s old Resistance comrades all resent him for living on the proceeds of his past capers while they have to work at Bertani’s Restaurant (Bertani is played by Charles Vanel from Henri-Georges Clouzot’s The Wages of Fear and Diabolique, among others). Only young Danielle Foussard (the piquant Brigitte Auber), isn’t angry at him—because she’s trying to blackmail, er, persuade John to run off with her and get married despite her youth. It’s always something! Anyway, John’s not taking these accusations lying down, even on those lovely Riviera beaches. As he points out, “For what it’s worth, I never stole from anybody who would go hungry.”

The yolk's on our heroes if they don't catch the real Cat!

Solving a Hitchcock mystery isn't always black and white.

John enlists the help of H.H. Hughson (Hitchcock veteran John Williams) from Lloyd’s of London to clear himself. As the title indicates, it takes a thief to catch a thief! The richest potential robbery victims on Hughson’s list are the mother-and-daughter team of Jessie Stevens (the delightful Jessie Royce Landis, playing a more lovable, down-to-earth mama than she did in North by Northwest) and her lovely blonde daughter Frances (Grace Kelly at her most radiant and elegant; she truly resembles a Grecian goddess, especially in her Edith Head gowns). Francie, as Miss Stevens is called, is definitely a classic Hitchcock Blonde with a cool demeanor and passionate fires beneath it all. She’s also part gifted amateur detective and part thrill-seeker, always up for, as our hero says, “weird excitement.” Not only has Francie seen through John’s alias, lumberman Conrad Burns (“Remind me to yell ‘Timber!’ once in a while,” John wryly ripostes), but this adventurous beauty has a surprising proposition for him: teaming up to rip off the rich. From what Jessie says to Francie, I’d say Miss Stevens takes after her dear old dad: “Why do you think we moved so often? Your father was a swindler, dear, but a lovable one. If you ask me, (John’s) a bigger operator on every level.”  

Attempts to catch a thief get the wrong man killed.

TCaT is a delightful champagne cocktail of a movie, sparkling as playfully as the jewels the mischievous Francie keeps trying to tempt Robie with. Still, this being a Hitchcock movie, you’ll see a dark side to the people and plot twists of this elegant adventure, too. For example, I had to smile at the perversity of two bewitching women like Francie and Danielle essentially trying to blackmail Robie into having relationships with them! I also enjoyed the constant—and apt—comparison of insurance to gambling. That’s part of the fun of To Catch a Thief; nobody in it is completely clean.
After the amazing artistic and financial success of Rear Window (1954), some considered TCaT to be “Hitchcock Lite.” Well, *nyah!* to them! Alfred Hitchcock and returning screenwriter John Michael Hayes (working from David Dodge’s novel) just wanted to have fun. If any movie snobs have a problem with that, maybe they really are overworked and need to relax on the nearest beach! Actually, 1955 was a departure year for Hitchcock and Hayes, considering their cheeky black comedy The Trouble with Harry also came out that year (granted, at the time, European audiences appreciated …Harry more than us Yanks, who rediscovered it in later years). Hitchcock and Company brought their usual wit, panache, and exquisite craftsmanship to the caper film, specifically the Gentleman Thief subgenre. Raffles and his brethren had been sorely missed in recent years, with too many caper films too often concentrating on smash-and-grab graphic violence and gleeful sadism. Steven Soderbergh brought back the witty, playful caper film in 2001 with his dazzling remake of Ocean’s Eleven; along with its two sequels, Soderbergh and Company brought fun and smarts back to the heist movie. If you ask me, all three of Soderbergh’s Ocean movies were way more fun than the 1960 original with The Rat Pack, but that’s simply one movie buff’s opinion.

Nice in Nice? Not when police chase you!

Even Yogi Bear can't touch Francie and John's picnic basket!

If you love chase scenes, TCaT won’t disappoint you, whether it’s John and Hughson moving progressively faster through the Nice Flower Market until they’re running from the police, or leadfoot Francie speeding along winding roads as John wipes the sweat off his hands. The French Riviera locations are as lovely to look at as the elegant team of Grant and Kelly in one of her last three films; the TCaT set was where Kelly met future husband Prince Rainier of Monaco. It’s a shame Grant only got to team up onscreen with Kelly once before her retirement, since they made a marvelous pair (as was also the case with Grant and his Charade leading lady Audrey Hepburn). Fellow Hitchcock fans may recall that Jessie Royce Landis went on to play Grant’s mom in North by Northwest (1959), even though she was Grant’s age in real life! (It’s so unfair when women age faster than men; there ought to be a law! <smile>) TCaT was nominated for three Oscars, including Best Art Direction/Set Decorations and Best Costume Design for the great Edith Head, but it was Director of Photography Robert Burks who brought home the gold at last, having just missed the brass ring previously for Rear Window and Strangers on a Train. I loved Brian Cady’s story on the TCM Web site of how Cary Grant, who’d been hell-bent on retiring from movies at that point in his long career, “agreed to read the script although he warned Hitchcock not to get his hopes up. Hitch kept the bombshell until the end of the meeting. ‘It might help you as you’re reading, Grace Kelly has agreed to play the girl and a good part of the picture will be shot on the Riviera.’ Cary Grant may have been set on retirement, but he was only human. Who could turn down a job offer like that?” Not us!

Francie has a great cure for John's sticky fingers!
 

CHARADE: Wish I'd Gotten to Know Him Before I Fell in Love

“I wish I’d gotten to know her before I fell in love...I could say who’s to blame, say who’s the man in this cautionary tale...."  (From "Out of Jail" by They Might Be Giants)  I’ve always affectionately joked that Charade was the best Hitchcock movie that Hitchcock never made, as those who know me well can attest. Brimming with piquant romance, sophisticated comedy, and stylish suspense—including a soupçon of graphic-for-its-era violence and gore—Stanley Donen’s 1963 romantic comedy-thriller is a thoroughly entertaining object lesson in why it’s so important for people to really get to know their sweeties before marrying them. Case in point: Charade’s heroine Regina “Reggie” Lampert (Audrey Hepburn). Reggie, a beautiful young American simultaneous translator in Paris, quit her job at E.U.R.E.S.C.O. after marrying the rich and mysterious Charles Lampert—but he’s turning out to be too mysterious for comfort. When we meet Reggie, she’s vacationing in Megeve’s lovely French Alps resort, but it’s no pleasure trip. She’s suffering from buyer’s remorse — or more accurately, bridal remorse — and seriously contemplating divorce. As she sadly admits to her friend Sylvie (Dominique Minot), “I’ve tried to make it work, really I have.…But with Charles, everything is secrecy and lies. He’s hiding something from me, Sylvie, something terrible — and it frightens me.” Witty byplay with a handsome older gent who introduces himself as Peter Joshua (Cary Grant) perks things up before Reggie returns home to Paris. 

Reggie in disguise, with glasses!

But her homecoming is a rude awakening: Reggie is utterly gobsmacked to find their apartment is completely bare, and Charles has been murdered! On top of that, three men unknown to her turn up at Charles’s very sparsely-attended funeral. One of them, Tex Penthollow (James Coburn), holds a mirror to Charles’s open casket to see if he’s breathing. The second, Leopold W. Gideon (Ned Glass, who also played opposite Grant in North by Northwest as the suspicious Grand Central Terminal ticket agent) sneezes violently over Charles’s casket. (Sylvie dryly notes, “He must have known Charles pretty well…he’s allergic to him.”) The third mourner is an angry, imposing fella named Herman Scobie (George Kennedy) with a bad attitude and a metal prosthetic claw. He storms into the church and confirms Charles’s deceased state by plunging a pin into his corpse, to the shock of both Reggie and Sylvie.  

Reggie's a Truthful Whitefoot, with a white dress to match!

"Is this the party to whom I am speaking?"

With oranges like these, who needs apples?

Turns out Charles was living a double life—a quadruple life, really, considering he had 4 passports under 4 different names. But that’s only the beginning; self-described American Embassy “desk jockey” Hamilton Bartholomew (Walter Matthau) reveals that Charles was a wanted man! He and the other “mourners” had fought in World War 2 together, going behind enemy lines to deliver $250,000 in gold to the French underground. Instead, they stole the gold but got ambushed by the Nazis, which is how Scobie got a claw where his hand used to be. Charles escaped with the $250 grand and had managed to elude his former comrades until now. The bewildered, vulnerable yet determined Reggie is the gang’s only lead, if they don’t get fed up and kill her first. There’s one scene where Tex corners Reggie in a phone booth at the Black Sheep Club (oranges never looked so sexy or funny!), torturing our hapless heroine by dropping lit matches on her dress as she brushes them off, screaming and sobbing. It’s always made me want to write a scene (if someone hasn’t beat me to it) in which the heroine has just enough room to knee her tormentor in the groin, snapping, “I saw that movie, too!” Peter catches up with Reggie in Paris and offers to help her out with the fix she’s in. His playful hard-to-get routine is catnip to her, and she’s falling in love…until she finds out the guy has as many aliases as Charles did. Boy, Reggie sure can pick ’em!  Bartholomew wants to take advantage of Reggie’s mystery man by encouraging her to play nice with Peter — or is it Alex? Adam? — and see what he’s up to. Who can she trust, and how can she keep all those names straight? Her life becomes a case of “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer” as the crooks and Peter/Alex/Adam/Whatever His Name Is moves into Reggie’s small hotel, where comedy, suspense, murder, and paranoid gallows humor also set up light housekeeping.

Charade is the movie that made me a fan of both Donen and screenwriter Peter Stone. In fact, I actually saw Charade long before I ever saw any of Donen’s classic musicals. He has fun with Charade’s Hitchcockian aspects, such as the clever corpse-eye-view shot involving a morgue drawer. Every other line of Stone’s screenplay is sparklingly quotable, and Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn are among my favorite screen couples. It’s a pity they didn’t have more opportunities to team up onscreen together during their long careers. My family and I have always loved the wry way that Grant, then 59, and Hepburn, then 34, kidded the age difference between them. That was more or less Grant’s idea, according to Donen and Stone on the superb Criterion Collection DVD’s delightful, anecdote-rich commentary track. Grant was concerned that it would be unseemly for a man his age to be chasing a beautiful woman so much younger than him, so he convinced the filmmakers to make Hepburn’s character the romantic aggressor. Personally, I found this gambit to be quite charming, and it makes sense for Reggie’s trusting, romantic, impulsive personality. 

Will Reggie and Peter/Alex/Adam
live happily and frivolously ever after?

In fact, Audrey Hepburn had the most remarkable knack for being glamorous yet approachable; she was one of the most endearing glamour-pusses in movie history. James Coburn, George Kennedy, and Walter Matthau are in top form in their early pre-Oscar screen roles. Both Hepburn and Paris look their sophisticated best here; let’s face it, Audrey was born to wear Givenchy!  Charade’s driving opening theme is my favorite piece of Henry Mancini music (the Pink Panther theme comes a very close second). In fact, the whole score reflects the film’s many moods perfectly. Without giving too much away, I love the clever MacGuffin, too; those who aren’t as into philately as my stepdad may have a new respect for stamp-collecting after watching Charade!