June 25, 2016

THE CAT BURGLAR (1961)


This sixty-five-minute film opens with night moves by a petty thief, Jack Hogan, climbing on balconies and roofs in his cat burglar apparel, a black sweatshirt, and a flat cap. The film feels promising with an opening title theme by Buddy Bregman. The jazz score is cool in the beginning yet becomes stale as the movie progresses with the same riff repeated over and over. Hogan shines in the last of his short film career as the burglar, giving the distinct impression that his delivery style is that of James Caan. When his character audibly shares his inner thoughts his vocals pull it off with a natural flair. The location shooting helps bolster the limited budget. The story, written by Leo Gordon, prolific television actor, screenwriter, novelist, and all-around burly guy, has a subplot that I did not see coming so some kudos are in order for this. But expect the usual awkward scenes which have now become amusing. Beyond Hogan's excellent performance, the others do a decent job, except for June Kenney, whose untrained voice and stage presence hurts her performance. Admittedly, Greg Palmer is a bit over-the-top.


Hogan steals a briefcase from Kenney’s apartment hoping to find something of value. His usual pattern is to fence his take at a local pawn shop run by Gene Roth. Roth is effective here as the cigar-smoking owner with an annoying cough. Hogan’s contents are not of much value except for a notebook he thought worthless. He leaves that behind in his trash can.

Kenny, the unsuspecting briefcase courier, tells her boss/boyfriend, John Baer, about the theft and his only concern is that notebook. Without telling the viewer how, Kenny manages to locate a rotund, unkempt man in a sleazy apartment complex. He is downtown’s official informant and takes her to the pawnshop. After telling her story, Roth knows to contact the cat burglar. After paying Hogan for the briefcase contents, Roth returns the briefcase back to Kenny. Baer is not amused that the notebook is still missing and verbally assaults Roth assuming he knows where it is.


Greedy mastermind, Palmer, (below) learns of the missing case and questions his partner, Baer. In surprisingly low camera angles, we have a detailed view of his waistline and trouser cut as he comes down on Baer’s recklessness in commanding form. It demands we see his face. But the cameraman cannot find Palmer’s face in his viewfinder. When we hear Palmer’s threatening words as he thrusts a newspaper’s damaging headline at Baer, it is immediately followed by six descending notes of doom from a trombone, da-da-dum, da-da-dum. It is the funniest element in the film and is repeated often when expected. The very same quintessential notes of doom used for years in many comedy skit parodies.

Before dumping the notebook, Hogan tore out a couple pages to level his teetering dresser which his motel owner refuses to fix until he pays his rent. He arranges to get the notebook back to Kenney after a rather ambitious plan for a guy who calls himself a “crumb.” He painstakingly writes out several fake pages to fill out the notebook and get a fast hundred-dollar reward.


Baer meets with Palmer who is enraged by the pages of gibberish in the notebook. No engineering plans for a new ICBM propulsion unit he expects to trade on the black market. Suddenly, the national security subplot. They immediately head for Hogan’s motel room and Palmer’s muscle gives Hogan a thorough beating. But the thug is not quite comfortable enough. Wanting to get down to business, he takes his suit coat off, slowly rolls up his sleeves, and intends to finish him off before Palmer tells him to stop. With this vicious beating, Hogan realizes that the notebook must have a high value.

Kenney, assuming the benefit of the doubt, tells Baer that Hogan thinks he is involved in espionage. Da-da-dum! Da-da-dum! With lies spewing left and right, she soon finds that Palmer is not a police lieutenant, either. Hogan is waiting in a warehouse full of empty, blank boxes. As the last to enter the warehouse, Palmer releases Baer of any future scenes and seriously wounds Hogan. At the clichéd elevated position, he and Palmer struggle, both stuntmen falling onto the aforementioned empty boxes to break their fall. Both die from severe paper cuts. Blood everywhere. Perhaps. You will have to watch it yourself.

Note: Billie Bird, the daffy Mrs. Prattle, is the motel owner. She insists everyone pronounce it Praytel. The Praytel Motel does have a ring to it. Comically, she grumbles about being interrupted in the middle of nothing important. Drag racing legend, Tommy Ivo, plays her somewhat dimwitted son who garners some unintended laughs with his weak performance.

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