It’s an Asphalt Jungle Out There!

May Emmerich (Dorothy Tree) : “Oh, Lon, when I think of all those awful people you come in contact with—downright criminals—I get scared.”

Alonzo D. Emmerich (Louis Calhern): “Oh, there's nothing so different about them.  After all, crime is only... a left-handed form of human endeavor. “

The Asphalt Jungle (1950) is a dynamic, suspenseful combination of character study and tense thriller.  W.R. Burnett’s hard-boiled 1949 novel was snapped up for the movies by producer Arthur Hornblow Jr. of Witness for the Prosecution. Oscar-winning writer/director John Huston had always been a fan of Burnett’s work, which included the novels Little Caesar and High Sierra, also adapted into classic suspense films.  Huston joined forces with screenwriter Ben Maddow (The Secret of Santa Vittoria; The Chairman), and the result was one of the best caper thrillers ever made. The intense score by the great Miklos Rosza (Alfred Hitchcock’s Spellbound; The Lost Weekend; The Power) accompanies the film with a sense of urgency that keeps you riveted.  The title theme always makes me think of bullfighting somehow, as if Huston himself is daring the film’s characters to get away with their meticulously-planned jewel heist.  In any case, you know you’re in good hands when you have the writer/director of the classic 1941 version of The Maltese Falcon on your team!

Watch your back in this town, Dix, or the "Happiness Boys"
will have you zigging when you oughta be zagging!

Gus sure knows how to keep his customers safe!

Fred Flintstone in a lineup?!
How will he ever explain this to Wilma?

The first character we meet among The Asphalt Jungle’s characters is rugged Dix Handley (Sterling Hayden from Dr. Strangelove; Johnny Guitar; The Godfather), slipping in out of columns in the early dawn, walking stealthily yet with a sense of purpose.  Harold Rosson’s cinematography  lends the early dawn an Ansel Adams look.  At six-foot-five with a booming voice, Dix is easy to hear and see, so it’s no surprise that with the police cracking town on suspicious characters, Dix gets hauled in for questioning for a series of stick-ups.  Indeed, Dix barely has time to grab some chow at The Pilgrim House, where his friend Gus Minissi (James Whitmore of Battleground; THEM!; Give ’em Hell, Harry!) serves up good old “American Food—Home Cooking,” like it says right on the brick signage!  Chain restaurants?  We don’t need no stinkin’ chain restaurants!  Gus happens to be a hunchback, but that doesn’t stop him from being kind to folks who need food and money, including the ever-broke Dix.  Gus is also kind to stray cats and stronger than he looks—disaster to the jerk who threatens cats in Gus’ place!
Dix is always trying to earn money, either from borrowing money from Cobby (Marc Lawrence from Key Largo; Marathon Man; Foul Play), an alcoholic bookie who sweats like a human waterfall, or getting it at gunpoint.  But his gambling and stick-ups just aren’t doing the trick.  As a result, Dix always seems to be borrowing money from Gus:

Dix: “I just can’t be in Cobby’s debt and keep my self-respect.”

Gus: “I guess it’s all right to owe me, huh?”

Dix (as sheepish as a lug like Dix can ever be): “I guess.”

Gus: “Yeah. It’s just my luck.”

Sam Drucker's gonna need a shady rest
after the cops sweat him!

Still, dig the company Dix keeps in the lineup scene!  That first doleful-looking guy is Henry Corden, prolific character actor and voiceover artist, who took over the voiceover role of Fred Flintstone after the original Fred, actor Alan Reed, died in 1977; Corden continued in the role until his death in 2005.  While you’re at it, look at the way Dix glowers at the Night Clerk as he stands in the lineup, giving that poor nervous witness the Hairy Eyeball.  That clerk is played by Frank Cady from Alfred Hitchcock’s Rear Window and TV’s Petticoat Junction.  No wonder the Night Clerk can’t bring himself to I.D. Dix to the hardnosed Lt. Ditrich (Barry Kelley from The Manchurian Candidate; Elmer Gantry;The Love Bug).  Frank’s not in Hooterville anymore! 

The setting in The Asphalt Jungle is identified only as an unnamed Midwestern city.  With all that crime, maybe that burg is ashamed to identify itself!  Police Commissioner Hardy (John McIntire from Psycho; Winchester ’73; Scene of the Crime) is fed up with lazy, shifty incompetents like Ditrich who whine that they don’t know what to do.  Hardy reads Ditrich the riot act:  “Lock up the witness!  Scare him worse!  It’s your job, knowing what to do!”  Hardy’s even more fed up with the gambling rackets, as Ditrich whines, “I close them down, but they only open up again.”  Hardy is unsympathetic:  “You don’t close them hard enough!  Rip out the phones, smash up the furniture!”  On top of that, the notorious jewel thief Erwin “Doc” Riedenschneider  (Sam Jaffe from Gunga Din; Ben-Hur; TV’s Ben Casey) has just been released from prison, looking all spiffy and dignified in his Sunday best as he ditches Doc’s tail with the greatest of ease.  Ditrich is behind the eight-ball, so Hardy gives him three options:  “I can reduce you to the rank of Patrolman and send you down to Five Corners; I can bring you up for departmental trial on charges of incompetence; or I can give you one more chance to make good on your responsibilities.  I think that’ll be the greatest punishment of all.”

Would YOU dare to say "No!" to a guy like Dix Handley?

Doc loves, he loves, he loves his calendar girls!

Now that Doc’s a free man again, maybe he’ll spend his new-found freedom hanging out with the neighborhood kids, teaching them from his experiences that crime doesn’t pay.  Yeah, and Christmas comes in July!  But Doc is interested in spending quality time with the girls—you see, Doc prefers pretty girls of a tender age, dirty old man that he is!  With no young babes to drool over, Doc gets down to business, bringing Doc and Cobby to the posh pad of the eminent, high-powered lawyer Alonso D. Emmerich (Louis Calhern from Duck Soup; Annie, Get Your Gun; Alfred Hitchcock’s Notorious). 
Doc’s caper involves a jewel heist that, if it succeeds, would net our perpetrators more than enough money to live on for the rest of their lives!  Their target: Belletier’s, one of the Midwest’s biggest, most fabulous jewelry stores. Doc makes the pitch in his calm, assured way: “Everything is here, from the observed routine of the personnel to the alarm system, the types of locks on the doors, the aging condition of the main safe, and so forth.  Take my word for it, Mr. Emmerich, this is a ripe plum ready to fall.”  But can they be sure this ripe plum won’t slip through their fingers, leaving a mess behind?  Our thieves do their best to protect themselves from potential peril, with the following personnel:

*Gus as the getaway driver.  His take would be $10,000.

*Louis Ciavelli (Anthony Caruso from Across the Pacific; My Favorite Brunette; His Kind of Woman).  Louis is a professional safecracker, or “boxman,” so he’ll be earning the most money: $25,000.  He needs it, too, for his family’s sick baby; the poor little tyke sounds like he has whooping cough!

*And last but not least, the gang decides on their “hooligan” for the tough stuff: our man Dix Handley, getting the gig for $15,000!  That would be more than enough for Dix to get back to his family farm in Kentucky and start fresh, if he stays focused and all goes well….

Doll Conovan comes to Dix in fake eyelashes and real tears!

All that Doc and his crew would need to put the plan in motion is $50,000, with way more to come if the robbery succeeds, of course.  That sure sounds more lucrative than the dollar and a dream the lottery commercials always ballyhoo!  Our thieves could have quite a haul—in a perfect world, anyway.  (If it were me, I’d be happy with just the fifty-grand!)  They’ve got to be careful, though; the “Happiness Boys” on the police force are giving folks like our thieves the push, leaving bookies, “dime-a-dance” dames, and other folks with livelihoods of questionable repute in jeopardy.  It’s hard out there for a crook lately, as well as the people who depend on them to make ends meet.  And you thought New York City’s Mayor Bloomberg was tough on crime with his soda wars!

Oh, that Emmerich—what a heel!

"Uncle Lon"s kept-tootsie Angela
is "some sweet kid"!

Uh-oh!  Is it curtains for Doc, Dix, and Louis?

And then he kissed meeee!  It's about time Doll got a smooch in this movie!

Fellas, please tell me that's just the Mister Softee truck I'm hearing, not alarms!

Diamonds are a guy's best friend! Wish Angela were here to sing a few bars!

They're in the money—or are they?  Watch the whole movie for the suspenseful conclusion!

Good morning, and welcome to Breakfast with Doll and Dix!
Today, Doll whips up her special Corncracker pancakes, and Dix recommends his favorite colts!

But can Emmerich be trusted?  After the conspirators leave, Emmerich admits to his right-hand man, private detective Bob Brannon (Brad Dexter of The Magnificent Seven; Violent Saturday; Von Ryan’s Express), that his extravagant lifestyle has left him broke, and he’s trying to keep it from his sickly, unsuspecting wife May (Dorothy Tree, veteran actress and speech coach, with films including The Men; Crime Doctor; Knute Rockne, All-American) and his gorgeous young mistress Angela Phinlay (Marilyn Monroe in one of the early roles that put her on the map, including Gentlemen Prefer Blondes; All About Eve; and Niagara). Sheesh, what’s the world coming to when you can’t even trust a rich guy with a caper?  Emmerich agrees to cough up the dough, then suggests that he help the gang out by taking charge of safekeeping of the loot himself, instead of divvying it among several “fences” like most robbers do.  Aw, isn’t Emmerich thoughtful?  Hmm, what’s that smell—a king-size rat, perhaps?

Doll has been working at this clip joint, The Club Regal.  Wouldn’t you know Hardy has closed it down, and on pay night, to boot?  Poor Doll; she tries to be brave when she comes to Dix’s door, with nowhere else to turn, but she dissolves in tears, her pretty face smudged with make-up and wet false eyelashes when she admits her dilemma.  She’s in love with Dix, even if having horses on the brain 24/7 has Dix virtually blinded.  Dix isn’t so great at winning money, but he loves horses, and he’s OK with letting Doll stay around for a while, even as Dix gruffly adds, “But don’t get no ideas, Doll.”  That said, I was touched that Dix let Doll stay in her time of need, and how she made breakfast for him.  In Dix’s tunnel-visioned way, he even seemed to appreciate it, even asking for her  forwarding address.  When Dix waxes rhapsodic about the colt he loved back in Kentucky, it just seems to make Doll love Dix even more, and it made me wish those crazy kids could’ve somehow carved out a future together.  Despite his unfortunate habit of getting money by sticking people up, Dix isn’t really a bad guy; he’s just really, really focused on his dream of getting his Kentucky horse farm back.  The heist could solve his problems, and maybe Doll’s problems, too.

The great cast of character actors is unforgettable, and the robbery itself is 11 minutes of nail-biting suspense.  The Asphalt Jungle isn’t some slick, stylish entertainment that melts out of your brain like cotton candy by the end (not that there’s anything wrong with that!).  Suspenseful though it is, it also made me feel for these characters long after I watched it, especially poor hard-luck Doll Conovan, played so movingly by Jean Hagen of Adam’s Rib; Sunrise at Campobello; and Singin’ in the Rain, for which Hagen was nominated for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar of 1952 for her hilarious performance as obnoxious, tone-deaf silent film star Lina Lamont.  Wow, did Hagen have range, or what? 

Dr. Drew Casper, who holds the Alfred and Alma Hitchcock Chair at the USC School of Film & Television in Los Angeles, points out on The Asphalt Jungle’s DVD/Blu-Ray commentary track how unusual it was to have Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer producing this stark crime thriller: “What’s a movie like this doing at MGM, or what’s MGM doing with a movie like this?”  Indeed, where were the glamorous musicals and their splashy production numbers, and the wholesome entertainment of the Andy Hardy movies and such?  Well, the post-war days of MGM in 1950 had just begun, and Toto, we sure weren’t in Kansas anymore!  Broadway producer/playwright Dore Schary brought his biopic play Sunrise at Campobello to both stage and screen, including Oscar nominations.  Schary inevitably climbed the ladder at MGM, becoming its Chief of Production in 1948. 

As post-war America rapidly became a very different animal, Schary and Louis B. Mayer were in synch—or so they thought.   It turned out Mayer was looking toward mirroring the past, while Schary was looking toward how people lived now, in this brave new world where things weren’t always pretty, happy and peppy.  During Schary’s MGM reign, social consciousness was encouraged in both the “A” film and the so-called “B” film units, so a novel based on the likes of W.R. Burnett seemed to be just what Hollywood needed to shake up the 1950s.

On the DVD/BluRay commentary track, Whitmore actually quotes Emmerich’s famous line: “Crime is just a left-handed form of human endeavor.”   Whitmore adds, “I always liked that, and that’s exactly what John got on the screen, that they were just people. Hayden and ‘Jeannie’ Hagen , and Sam Jaffe and I became lifelong friends after The Asphalt Jungle wrapped.”  The Asphalt Jungle’s movie ads boasted: “80 minutes of continuous excitement’,” according to Bennett Cerf of the Saturday Review of Literature.  But The Asphalt Jungle’s running time is 112 minutes!  Maybe they didn’t factor in the Coming Attractions?

I feel for these characters, especially Louis and his wife and their sick baby; Gus, with his kindness to cats; and especially poor sweet hard-luck Doll , who breaks my heart and who’s stuck on Dix, even if he’s slow to pick up on her feelings for him.  I love the way Dix gets so much more talkative when he starts talking with Doll about horses, and how Doll tries to understand him.  You know how in Some Like It Hot, hard-luck Marilyn Monroe says, “Why do I always get the fuzzy end of the lollipop?”  Well, in The Asphalt Jungle,  Marilyn Monroe’s character Angela is  the one who’s got it made—for now, at least—while poor Doll is the one who’s getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop, and worse!  Still, Dix is kind to Doll in his blinkered way; he gives her money when she’s broke, and near the end of the film, it seems Dix is slowly but surely getting it through his horse-happy head that Doll loves Dix, and the feeling seems to be mutual—but is it already too late for these poor poignant losers?

The one thing John Huston always thought was most important in staying alive (and it must have worked, since he had a great life) was his interest in life, and how to enjoy it and appreciate it.  No doubt that’s why John Huston and Sterling Hayden worked so well together.  Hayden’s one lifelong regret was that he’d cooperated with the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) for what he considered “ratting.”  Ironically, rugged tough-guy Hayden began his movie career as a Paramount heartthrob!  My dear late mom was a big Hayden fan, and she’d filled me in on Hayden’s career, including his four-year marriage to the beautiful and talented Madeleine Carroll (The Prisoner of Zenda and My Favorite Blonde, as well as Alfred Hitchcock’s The 39 Steps and Secret Agent), and his love of sailing and writing (he’d written two best-selling books, his 1963 autobiography Wanderer, and his 1976 novel, Voyage).  Indeed, Hayden was up for the role of Quint in the 1975 film version of the terror classic Jaws; alas, he couldn’t take the part due to tax problems.  (Would that have been cool, or what?)  The Asphalt Jungle had legs, spawning three remakes: The Badlanders (1958), Cairo (1963); and Cool Breeze (1972), with an all-African American cast.  There was even an Asphalt Jungle TV series starring William Smith and Jack Warden, with theme music by Duke Ellington, though the show only lasted one season.

To slightly paraphrase a line from a later quote in Marilyn Monroe’s career, it looks like “Uncle Lon’s” luscious kept-tootsie Angela Phinlay (Marilyn in her big break!) will be getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop once the caper unravels.  Come to think of it, just about everyone in The Asphalt Jungle seems to get the fuzzy end of the lollipop eventually.  With the agita these thieves have to put up with, maybe working for a living wouldn’t be so bad after all.  Considering “Crime Doesn’t Pay” was still pretty much the norm in movies back in 1950, moviegoers might not be guaranteed a happy ending—but at least Dix finally gets a colt at last.  And let this be a warning to everyone eager for easy money:  Beware of dapper little men eager for quick money and very young ladies!  And remember what "Uncle Lon" always says above: "After all, crime is only a left-handed form of human endeavor."  (No offense meant to the southpaws in the audience!)


If you love The Dark Pages, it's available in two ways!

Online: http://www.allthatnoir.com/newsletter.htm

http://hqofk.wordpress.com/2013/06/24/first-look-dark-pages-latest-issue-3/

And in print just like Mama and Papa used to make:
The Dark Pages
P.O. Box 2716
Chicago, Illinois
60609-2716

Try to Remember: The Amnesia Trilogy. Part 3: SPELLBOUND

To wrap up The Amnesia Trilogy, here’s the amnesia film that started it all, at least for me: Alfred Hitchcock’s Oscar-winning thriller Spellbound.  I first saw it on WPIX-TV on a Sunday afternoon when I was a youngster in the Bronx. After the literally breezy opening credits, Spellbound sets the stage with a foreword by the film’s medical advisor, Dr. May Romm (more about her shortly):

“Our story deals with psychoanalysis, the method by which modern science treats the emotional problems of the sane. The analyst seeks only to induce the patient to talk about his hidden problems, to open the locked doors of his mind. Once the complexes that have been disturbing the patient are uncovered and interpreted, the illness and confusion disappear…..and the devils of unreason are driven from the human soul.”

Got all that? Yeah, it may sound quaint in today’s more sophisticated, complicated world, but somehow I find Dr. Romm’s foreword (which has also been attributed to screenwriter Ben Hecht) endearingly earnest. In fact, Spellbound’s more dated aspects, like its approach to psychotherapy, intrigues me when I think of how these things have changed over time.

The lovely, luminous, gentle-voiced Ingrid Bergman plays Dr. Constance Petersen, the youngest member of the crackpot, er, crack team of psychoanalysts at Green Manors, a posh psychiatric institution. Constance brims with book smarts, but her people smarts still need fine-tuning. Dr. Fleurot (John Emory), who’s a bit of a scholarly wolf in shrink’s clothing, is always trying to pitch woo at Constance, but she’s just not that into him. He says, “You approach all your problems with an ice pack on your head….I’m trying to convince you that your lack of human and emotional experience is bad for you as a doctor...and fatal for you as a woman.” Constance wryly replies, “I’ve heard that argument from a number of amorous psychiatrists who all wanted to make a better doctor of me.”

Doctor on Call-Me-Anytime!

If you could see Constance’s feet now, you’d see bobby sox on her feet! *swoon!*

Well, I can tell you from family therapy experience that sometimes it takes a few tries with a few different therapists to find one you really click with—and Constance soon discovers love can work that way, too, when Green Manors’ elderly head honcho Dr. Murchison (veteran Hitchcock player Leo G. Carroll) is about to retire, albeit reluctantly. Constance and the staff are sorry to see Dr. Murchison go, even though his imminent replacement, the renowned Dr. Anthony Edwardes, is supposed to be hot stuff. “Hot” is the word for the ruggedly handsome new doc on the block, especially considering Dr. Edwardes is played by young Gregory Peck, who became an Oscar nominee himself that year for The Keys of the Kingdom. (Little did Peck know he’d be playing another amnesiac in peril twenty years later in another New York-set suspense film, the 1965 thriller Mirage!) Cool Constance’s pleasant but prim demeanor thaws rapidly, Dr. Edwardes’ agitation at the sight of  lines scratched into a tablecloth notwithstanding, and those crazy kids fall in love lickety-split. Heck, how could anyone not fall in love with Bergman and Peck in this movie, with both of them at the peak of their yumminess? I can’t help smiling every time I see the scene with Constance and Edwardes (I’ve never once heard our heroine call him “Anthony” in the film’s early scenes) on their impromptu get-to-know-you picnic in the sunshine, and the way she dreamily accepts a sandwich from him. She says, “Liverwurst” as it if were the loveliest word she’s ever heard, bless her heart!

Those who scratch the tablecloth do not get fruit cup!

When Dr. Edwardes doesn’t recognize a caller’s voice, he’s initially annoyed, then laughs it off as a practical joke. Moreover, Dr. Edwardes takes a personal interest in Mr. Garmes (Norman Lloyd, frequent Hitchcock player and later producer of TV’s Alfred Hitchcock Presents and The Alfred Hitchcock Hour), a patient with a guilt complex about his late father. Garmes also seems to be way too intrigued with knives and letter-openers. When Garmes tries to kill himself, Constance and Edwardes assist at the emergency surgery. But to everyone’s shock, Edwardes freaks out and faints. In fact, this is the first of four fainting spells Dr. Edwardes has over the course of the movie. If you happen to have a thing for watching handsome men being rendered unconscious, Spellbound is your cup of Sleepytime Tea!

With a few more jokes and scientific types, we’d have Ball of Fire!

Uh-oh! Someone’s got some ‘splainin’ to do!

Love opens doors for Constance

Constance realizes what’s up when she compares the signature on Dr. Edwardes’ autographed book to a note he’d left for her. Turns out Dr. Dreamboat is an impostor with amnesia, and the lovebirds have to figure out why and how! They’d better hurry, because the initials “J.B.” on his cigarette case are their only clue to his real identity. But the jig’s up when Dr. Edwardes’ worried office assistant comes to Green Manors herself, confirming the ruse. Constance ends up playing footsie with a note J.B. had slipped under her door when the local police drop by. Apparently the real Dr. Edwardes is missing and presumed dead, with J.B. as a person of interest! Poor Constance—she lets her hair down for once, falls in love, and wouldn’t you know the guy might be a killer? No wonder more and more people meet through online dating services nowadays! Anyway, before he fled, J.B. left Constance a note saying he can be reached at the Empire State Hotel in NYC until the heat dies down. For the rest of the film, Constance is essentially a female detective, a comparatively rare bird in suspense stories. Cool! She can start by delving deeper into why J.B. resents smug women. Smugness is infuriating in both genders, but J.B. doesn’t seem to mind smug men!

Aww, J.B. sleeps so cute! (Faint #1)

When she hits NYC, Constance gets some unexpected but welcome help from the house detective (Bill Goodwin, who was also the announcer for The Burns and Allen Show on both CBS and NBC), who pegs Constance as a gal in trouble, “a schoolteacher or librarian.” I love the way the hotel dick comes so close and yet so far in his assessment of her as he helps her in his amateur “psychologist” capacity without revealing her mission! Oh, and what would a Hitchcock movie be without one of the director’s famous cameos? It’s in this very scene, about 37 minutes into the movie; you’ll see Hitch walking out of an elevator at the Empire State Hotel, wearing a fedora, carrying a violin case and smoking a cigarette. If you can’t wait that long, go back to the beginning of this blog post and click here for the trailer.

Ground floor, Hitchcock cameo, everybody off!

Pesky tourist Wallace Ford puts the “Pitts” in “Pittsburgh”!

Danger between the lines!

Once Constance and J.B. are reunited (and it feels so good), they’re able to figure out that J.B. is a doctor (“The eminent Doctor X,” he says ruefully). They also deduce that J.B. must have been with the real—and still missing and presumed dead—Dr. Edwardes when foul play apparently befell him. J.B. feels this is only further proof that he must have knocked off Dr. Edwardes. Also, J.B. has burn scars on his left hand, with a skin graft, and he relives the pain and horror of his accident as if it was happening all over again, poor guy. Well, at least it’s a start—but when the bellboy brings up the afternoon papers, there’s an article about the manhunt, including a lovely photo of Constance! Oops, gotta run—to Pennsylvania Station for train tickets to wherever it was that J.B. went with Dr. Edwardes. Constance figures when J.B. left the mountains after Dr. Edwardes’ accident, he must have passed through New York, so asking for train tickets might jog his memory. Poor J.B. can only stammer “Rome,” then collapse. If J.B. is gonna have these dizzy/fainting spells on a regular basis, I think Constance should get a wheelchair for him! So all roads lead our fugitive sweethearts not to Rome, but to Grand Central and Rochester, NY to see Constance’s dear old professor and fellow psychoanalyst Dr. Alex Brulov (played by Michael Chekhov, famed acting teacher, former member of the Moscow Art Theater, and nephew of playwright Anton Chekhov. Alex was one of my favorite Spellbound characters, so I was happy to learn he was nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his delightful performance).  On the way, Constance helps J.B. remember the fiery wartime plane crash in which he was burned, reliving the horror: “I hated killing. I can remember that much….”

One perk to J.B.’s fainting spells; he’s got the lovely and devoted Constance to catch him!
(Faint #2)

Yikes! Talk about unwanted publicity!

When our fugitive couple reaches Alex’s Rochester home, claiming they’re honeymooning newlyweds, there’s a nice little scene with two police detectives (Art Baker and Regis Toomey of Burke’s Law), with one of them complaining about his clingy mother and accusations of being a “mama’s boy.” Even John Law has neuroses! And once again, poor J.B. can’t catch a break: the line pattern on the coverlet upsets him so badly that he faints again. When he wakes up after everyone’s asleep, the poor guy gets freaked out again by the relentlessly white bathroom fixtures; with his white phobia, he can’t even wash up or shave, though he  seems perfectly capable of wandering dazedly through Alex’s house with a straight razor. Could’ve been worse, though; Spellbound could’ve taken place in the 1970s, with all those harvest gold and avocado green fixtures! Luckily, Alex turns out to be wilier than Constance gave him credit for; he slips bromides into J.B.’s milk, and it’s beddy-bye time!

“You like close shaves, don’t you?”

From the folks who brought you the Fisticam: The Dairycam!

But Alex, this is a good boy...this is a nice boy...this is a mother's angel!  (Faint #3)

Next time J.B. comes over, we’re giving him the plastic cups! (4th and Final Faint!)

It takes lots of convincing, but the next day, Constance and Alex are able to get J.B. on the fast track toward helping him find out who he is and what happened to Dr. Edwardes. One more fainting spell and a look out the window on this snowy day, and our intrepid heroes realize the lines that freaked out J.B. were skiing tracks in the snow!  That’s where the dream sequence comes in:
 

Sled tracks on a snowy day gives our heroes the major clue they need: Dr. Edwardes had been into sports, saying it was a boon to the treatment of mental disorders. That’s why the dark lines in the white snow freaked out J.B. so severely. Using the notes from J.B.’s dream, they figure out that J.B. and Dr. E. went to Gabriel Valley for what turned out to be their ill-fated therapy vacation. Constance and J.B. go there to recreate the events leading to Dr. Edwardes’ death. The couple opts for downhill skiing, and the tension is almost unbearable as J.B. starts to remember the horrible thing he was trying to forget: the accidental death of his little brother as young J.B. tried to yell warnings to him. The point of impact where the poor kid is impaled lasts only seconds, but it still breaks my heart and chills me to the bone every time I see Spellbound. But the evil spell is broken as J.B. grabs Constance and saves her from flying off the cliff in the proverbial nick of time. Now they can forget the past and forge a future together as husband and wife, as well as Doctor and Doctor Ballantine (the “J” is for “John”). Nice day for a white wedding….

Or is it? When the police catch up with them, they confirm that Dr. Edwardes’ body is where our heroes deduced it would be, all right—but they didn’t figure on finding the cause of death was a bullet! After a montage of Constance desperately trying to convince the jury that John is innocent,to no avail, our heartbroken heroine returns to Green Manors. Ah, but the film and the surprises aren’t over just yet:

The screenplay by Ben Hecht and Angus MacPhail is loosely based on Francis Beeding’s 1927 novel The House of Dr. Edwardes; indeed, the opening credits specifically say “Suggested by Francis Beeding’s novel The House of Dr. Edwardes.” I’ve read in various sources that the original novel was a lot more gimmicky and Gothic-y. Hitchcock had no qualms about retooling a novel to serve his movie’s needs, so he, Hecht, and MacPhail improved upon it. But there’s one writer few can improve upon: William Shakespeare, whose lines from Julius Caesar open Spellbound with a most appropriate quote: “The fault…is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”

Spellbound was released in theaters in 1945, when World War 2 ended and soldiers were coming home suffering from shell shock, nightmares, and “battle fatigue” (or as we know it today, PTSD: post-traumatic stress disorder), so it was inevitable that Spellbound would strike a chord with moviegoers at that time (and even now, really, since war is unfortunately still with us). It also struck a chord with its producer, David O. Selznick, since he was undergoing psychoanalysis on account of his own family tragedy: Selznick’s brother Myron, a top Hollywood agent, had died after many years of alcoholism. On top of that, Selznick’s marriage broke up, so he wound up in therapy with psychoanalyst/psychiatrist Dr. May Romm. Interestingly, in 1944, the year before Spellbound was released, life during wartime was the subject of another acclaimed Selznick drama, Since You Went Away (which I must confess is known here at Team Bartilucci H.Q. as one of the most depressing movies ever made! But I digress….)

Miklós Rózsa is one of my favorite composers, and it’s no wonder that he won an Oscar for his glorious Spellbound score! It sets the film’s tone in every way, its theremin weaving foreboding throughout the emotion-packed, lushly romantic orchestrations. Ironically, according to Wikipedia, Selznick originally wanted a musical score from future Hitchcock composer Bernard Herrmann, another favorite of mine! But Herrmann wasn’t available, so Rózsa got the gig. Indeed, Spellbound also received five other Oscar nominations, not only for Chekhov’s supporting performance (James Dunn won for A Tree Grows in Brooklyn), but also for George Barnes’ gorgeous black-and-white cinematography (The Picture of Dorian Gray won); Jack Cosgrove’s special photographic effects (the Oscar went to another of my favorite movies, the Danny Kaye comedy Wonder Man); Hitchcock’s direction; and a Best Picture nomination for Selznick International (though I can't complain about The Lost Weekend winning the prize). Also, Ingrid Bergman won a New York Film Critics Circle Award for her performance. It’s also worth noting that Rhonda Fleming, only 22 at the time, made quite an impressive debut in the small but memorable role of Green Manors patient Mary Carmichael, whose flirty manner and beauty disguises a vicious hatred of men. Team Bartilucci favorite Dave Willock of the animated Hanna-Barbera series Wacky Races and Robert Aldrich films such as What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte played the bellboy who recognized Constance in New York. Vinnie recognized Willock’s voice; he's got an ear for such things, bless him. Many folks reading this may also remember Willock from another Team B. fave, It's in the Bag. 

Hello, Dali!

The scenes in Spellbound involving Salvador Dali’s surrealism were originally going to be even more surreal and elaborate than the classic dream sequence we movie fans know and love! However, as is explained in the Spellbound DVD’s special features, the rushes showed lighting problems, and worst of all for a romantic thriller, the footage just plain wasn’t packing the emotional and visual punch that Hitchcock had hoped for. So Selznick contacted production designer William Cameron Menzies, with whom he’d worked on Gone with the Wind. Menzies redesigned the shots, and the film certainly seems to have retained the impact and entertainment value that Hitchcock & Company wanted. Heck, I could go on and on about Menzies’ own extraordinary career alone, considering that in addition to being a brilliant production designer (a title Menzies created, by the way), he was also an Oscar-winning producer, director, and screenwriter in his brilliant 50-year career—but that deserves a blog post all its own, if someone hasn’t written one about him already!

If a honeymoon on a train was good enough for Mr. & Mrs. Thornhill, it's good enough for Dr. and Dr. Ballantine!

Sweet mystery of life, at last I've found you....

THE LOST WEEKEND Goes COLD TURKEY: “One’s Too Many and A Hundred’s Not Enough” by Team Bartilucci

This week, we of Team Bartilucci will take a look at substance abuse on film—the serious side and the satirical side, in that order!

Dorian’s Pick: The Lost Weekend (1945)

Films about people in the throes of substance abuse and all that goes with it usually depress and/or annoy me, especially since we’ve known alcoholics and other addicts of various stripes over the years. Sadly, some of these people were unable or unwilling to kick the habit until they became sick or dead, in spite of getting every possible form of treatment to overcome their demons (granted, treatment options have evolved over the years). But the frank, uncompromising 1945 movie adaptation of Charles R. Jackson’s searing novel The Lost Weekend (TLW) got under my skin because I’ve always found the story of protagonist Don Birnam’s painful lack of confidence (softened from the novel’s bisexuality) to be so movingly rendered in the screenplay by director Billy Wilder (one of my favorite directors) and Charles Brackett, and powerfully acted by Ray Milland in the performance of his career. Unlike cute, funny movie drunks like Dudley Moore as Arthur, or William Powell and Myrna Loy as The Thin Man’s hard-drinking yet endearing and high-functioning Nick and Nora Charles, Don is no lovable lush. The film follows Don as he’s nearing his lowest point, having been an alcoholic for the past six years and been on the wagon for the past ten days—until today. Don’s younger brother Wick (Phillip Terry) and his devoted girlfriend Helen (Jane Wyman, three years before she won her own Oscar for Johnny Belinda), have been trying to be supportive in every possible way, including tough love, but despite his good intentions, Don falls off the wagon hard every time, and alas, this day is no exception. One thing leads to another, and Wick leaves town for the weekend without Don, with Helen only sporadically available thanks to her job at Time (not that it stops her from hanging around his door, worrying). Now the real story begins as Don hits rock bottom at the start of a long weekend in New York City—really a long, dark four days and nights of the soul, running the gamut from petty larceny to a terrifying night in Bellevue and an escape to home with only the DTs for company. The Lost Weekend is as dark and intense as a film noir. John F. Seitz’s moody Oscar-nominated cinematography captures the signs of Don’s addiction in quietly chilling images: wet glass rings multiplying on a bar surface over time; unsold liquor bottles in store windows, silently taunting him; the shadow of a hidden bottle in a light fixture in his apartment, which Don treats as no less than a miracle. Great cast, too, including Howard da Silva, Frank Faylen, Doris Dowling in her film debut, and in a small but crucial role, one of my fave character actors, Douglas Spencer  (Double Indemnity, The Thing…, Diary of Anne Frank, etc.). Despite the downbeat subject matter, the film was a hit with critics and moviegoers alike—and actually inspired some damn funny TLW spoofing, such as the chandelier gag near the end of My Favorite Brunette and the 1947 Bugs Bunny cartoon Slick Hare, where Milland pays for his drink with a typewriter and gets several tiny typewriters as change. TLW’s many awards included 4 Oscars, including Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Director for Wilder and Best Actor for Milland, with nominations also going to editor Doane Harrison and the haunting theremin music of one of my favorite composers, Miklós Rózsa. TLW balances tragedy, terror, and gallows humor so beautifully, I can’t take my eyes off it whenever it’s on TV. Despite being released in 1945, TLW still packs an emotional wallop today.

Vinnie’s Pick: Cold Turkey (1971)

In our last collaboration, I went on about the untapped potential of Dick Van Dyke in respect to his titular role (a term I just love saying, and so rarely get the opportunity) in Fitzwilly. In said piece, I quickly mentioned the 1971 satire Cold Turkey, and am pleased to have the opportunity to elaborate on such here. It's an oft-forgotten film, known mostly for being one of Randy Newman's first forays into songs for the films.  But thanks to the growing print-on-demand DVD industry, the film has been made available to the general public again.

It's based on the classic comedy trope that has brought us films like The Producers, The Mouse That Roared, and Bamboozled; that of an outrageous plan intended to fail, and the chaos that erupts when it accidentally succeeds.  Mervin Wren (Bob Newhart) is a PR flack for the Valiant Tobacco company.  He proposes a way to make Owner and CEO Hiram C. Grayson (Edward Everett Horton's last role; he passed before the film's release) as beloved to history as Alfred Nobel: offer a prize of $25 million dollars (a princely sum in 1971) to the first town that can quit smoking en masse for thirty days. The idea was that no town could achieve such a feat, so the money would never be collected, but the offer alone would make him appear a humanitarian.

But the little town of Eagle Rock, Iowa had grown so distressed over the loss of a nearby military base (and its requisite jobs) that they saw this as a godsend, or at least its spiritual leader, Rev. Clayton Brooks (Van Dyke) did.  Usually trying to whip his flock into a frenzy (and succeeding only in barely keeping them awake), he now whips the entire populace into a desire to quit smoking.  He ends up driving one unable-to-quit citizen out of town for the month, and the townspeople get the last holdouts to sign the pledge by hook or by crook.  By the time of the deadline, only Eagle Rock has succeeded in getting everyone to quit.

The town turns to madness quickly, both as a result of the lack of tobacco and the sudden attention of the media their simple act has spurred.  The networks set up camp in town, and advertising opportunities stream in, along with tourists. Brooks becomes an overnight sensation, making the cover of Time.  And all along, Mervin Wren is madly trying to bollix up the town's low-nicotine situation. It ends bittersweetly, with helicopters, the President's cufflinks, and two people lying on the ground shot.  Like many films of the past, it is as topical today as it was upon its release.  The cash amounts are wildly larger now, but nowadays the tobacco companies are forced to finance their own negative campaigns via the multibillion dollar lawsuit that now funds (among many other things) the "Truth" ads you've seen for so long now.  People are still trying to quit, and the companies are still making it look like they want to help while all the while hoping they don't.  The news media has expanded its grasp as well, but they can still transform a town when they descend upon it for a story, and rarely for the better.

The script is simple, the directing capable, both the work of Norman Lear, approximately 18 minutes before All in the Family hit the air, and released shortly after.  The cast is a Who's Who of television soon-to-be stardom, including Jean Stapleton, Vincent Gardenia and Barnard Hughes.  But the film's three tentpoles (OK, technically four) are Van Dyke, Newhart and the comedy team of Bob & Ray. Van Dyke plays Brooks as an unswerving servant of God who slowly gets his head turned by the potential of fame this media circus has spawned.  Newhart is possibly the best Small Angry Man in film history.  His "slow burn" puts Edgar Kennedy on notice, the seething anger that whistles out his ears as his plans gang aft aglay is priceless.  Like Van Dyke and Andy Griffith, the roles he played in film were all but forgotten once he became a star on television, and that's a damn shame.  The dry humor of Bob & Ray threads its way through the film as they play the multiple roles of almost every member of the media we see on film, including parodies of Arthur Godfrey, Paul Harvey and Walter Cronkite. 

It's a vicious little film, filled with performances you never got to see these actors give again as their careers took such different paths.  And while many films look at such addictions with great seriousness, this one found a way to tackle a serious subject with humor, while still making the bad guys look like the bad guys.

DEAD MEN DON’T WEAR PLAID: “You Put on Your Black Dress, and I'll Go Shave My Tongue!"

Steve Martin’s comedy-mystery Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid (DMDWP) is as loopy and hilarious as it is affectionate in its salute to the noir mysteries of the 1940s. There isn’t a moment in the film that doesn’t make me laugh out loud or put a big goofy grin on my face. Here at Team Bartilucci H.Q., it’s not uncommon for us to quote the running gags about our hero’s “famous java,” our heroine’s versatile snakebite/bullet-extraction technique, and of course, the dreaded “cleaning woman,” among others. Even better, most of these pay off plot-wise as well; now that’s good writing!

Written by director/co-star Carl Reiner, the late George Gipe, and Martin himself, DMDWP hit movie theaters in May 1982, near the end of my sophomore year at Fordham University in the Bronx. Unless my memory is hazier than I think it is (always a possibility!), I saw it at the (now-closed) Allerton Theater with Rosemarie DiCristo, my dear longtime pal and fellow Fordhamite and film aficionado. We were both Steve Martin fans as well as overall movie buffs, and we weren’t disappointed! DMDWP is not only great fun, it’s also a dazzling technical achievement. Reiner and Martin cleverly interspliced scenes from 18 classic detective thrillers into the 1940s mystery plot bedeviling our narrator hero, private investigator Rigby Reardon (Martin). No static talking heads here; the film hits the ground running—or rather, driving, as noted scientist and cheesemaker Dr. John Hay Forrest (George Gaynes) loses control of his car and hurtles off a cliff in uncredited footage from the noir-ish 1942 Tracy & Hepburn drama Keeper of the Flame.  

Rigby loves the smell of java
in the morning, and lots of it!

We meet Rigby in his P.I. milieu, narrating in fine tough-guy voiceover, considering closing his office for a few days since business is slow—but it picks up pronto when beautiful, smoky-voiced Juliet Forrest (Rachel Ward, after Sharky’s Machine made her a star) literally falls into his arms (lots of comic fainting, slipped mickeys, and other forms of entertainingly-rendered temporary unconsciousness, as befits any good detective flick!). After Juliet comes to, thanks to Rigby’s breast-adjustment technique, she hires him to investigate her father’s apparent murder, which seems to be tied in with two lists she’s found, identifying “Friends of Carlotta” and “Enemies of Carlotta.” (Any resemblance to Vertigo’s Carlotta Valdes, My Favorite Brunette’s Carlotta Montay, or Twitter’s own @carlotta_valdes is purely coincidental.)  

Don't mess with a "Cleaning Woman!"

Don't monkey with Rigby!

I remember seeing DMDWP director Carl Reiner on a talk show (The Tonight Show, I think), pointing out the joy of seeing footage of movie stars like Ingrid Bergman woven into the film’s scenes in their prime, when they were “young and juicy.” Reiner was so right; almost every character Rigby meets while investigating the Carlotta Conspiracy is played by a major 1940s movie star, thanks to the magic of film editing. Martin and Ward, who have smoldering yet sweet romantic chemistry, are almost literally playing opposite an all-star cast with Ms. Bergman, Ava Gardner, Alan Ladd, Bette Davis, Lana Turner (forgiving Rigby for abandoning her at Schwab’s while recruiting her in the case), Charles Laughton (as sly derelict: “Know who I am?”  Rigby: “The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”), Humphrey Bogart (as Rigby’s mentor, “Marlowe”!) and, as MGM used to say, more stars than there are in Heaven, aided and abetted by Oscar-nominee Michael Chapman’s atmospheric new black-and-white cinematography.  According to the TCM Web site, Chapman spent six months researching, making sure the new film stock would closely match the classic film stock. I was especially wowed by the scene with Rigby outfoxing a Hitchcockian stranger on a train—played by Cary Grant (not Robert Walker, sorry; that would have been a 1950s movie). 

Juliet and Rigby find fun ways to spend a rainy day

Rigby and Von Kluck play "Duelling Solutions"!

Bud Molin, who worked with Reiner for years on Your Show of Shows, seamlessly edited the old and new footage together; mind you, this was in the years before CGI, when editors had to cut and paste and splice everything by hand. Production Designer John DeCuir had his work cut out for him; 85 sets were required to replicate all the sets in all those scenes from all those wonderful films! Much work and care went into making sure the costumes and hair styles on the body doubles, who were cleverly shot from behind or over their shoulders, successfully created the illusion that Martin really was interacting with all those classic movie stars.Well-done though this gimmick is, it wouldn’t have worked nearly as well without the straight-faced, spot-on comic performances of Martin, veteran Reiner, co-star Reni Santoni, and Ward at her most luscious, all doing justice to the daffy, witty screenplay. 

As is the case with the best comedies of Mel Brooks or the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker team, if you took out the jokes, DMDWP would still be a solid genre film—always a sign of real quality! It certainly didn’t hurt to have talented veterans on hand, such as costumer extraordinaire Edith Head (it was her last film; there’s a touching dedication to her in the end credits) and one of my favorite composers, Miklos Rozsa (who composed many more superb scores until his death in 1995 at the age of 88).  If you’ve already seen any of the classic films used in DMDWP, the jokes are even funnier, but even if you haven’t seen them, this slyly wacky, winsome salute to the mysteries of yore is a fun way to spend an hour and a half of your time! I only wish that the extra footage I’ve seen in the film when it's shown on broadcast TV would turn up in some kind of special DVD edition; among other things, it explains just why dead men don’t wear plaid. Or maybe TCM might want to run a night of the films used in DMDWP, since most if not all of them are in the TCM library anyway!