TEEN AGE THUNDER (1957)

This seventy-eight-minute film—with night scenes lit by a 40-watt bulb—is another HOWCO International film specializing in low-budget double feature movies. Lost, Lonely and Vicious was another of their films that I have skewered. That film is so bad I thought it should have been released as HOWCOME International. Directed, written and produced by guys who knew enough to get things rolling, this particular film is a couple of rungs above on the professional ladder. It is added to a long line of misunderstood hot rod teen films in the attempt to cash in on the original, Rebel Without A Cause, from two years prior. According to the movie's opening narration, hot rod racing is the nation's fastest-growing sport and it is pronounced, "drag-RACING" not today's "DRAG-racing."

The casting budget for this film did not make a dent in production costs. The twenty-seven-year-old Western supporting actor Chuck Courtney plays an eighteen-year-old. His “method acting” captures a lonely, unhappy high school senior. Down the professional scale is the monotonous, singsong delivery of Melinda Byron, Courtney's girl and waitress at the local diner. Doing much better with leading man stature is Robert Fuller, who plays a braggert with an ego larger than his flat-head V-8. He and Courtney have a thing: they hate each other. In real life, Fuller is three years younger than Courtney, too young for a driver's license! Yet the assumption is he is older, perhaps dropping out of school two years sooner. He does have a letter jack, but no achievement letters sewn on. Playing a pivotal part is Paul Bryar. With a long career as a supporting player, he is the most genuine actor in this film. As he was often cast, he played a policeman in the aforementioned Dean classic.

Courtney's widowed father is a hard-lined disciplinarian showing little affection for his non-commital son. The boy slouches at the dinner table and wears a T-shirt during supper. It could not possibly get much worse. Well, jail time would figure in. Living under the same roof is the father's sister who tries to reason with her narrow-minded brother when sparks fly. In the end, the adults teach errant teenagers little about taking responsibility for their actions.

God's gift to hot rodders shifts his charm into high gear for the affections of Miss Byron during a lunch with Courtney. Not liking the company, she persuades Courtney to drive her home in her brother's old car. The subsequent filming nearly suggests Guy Ritchie's hand-held camerawork to create the shaky sensation of speed as Fuller blasts past them. Courtney's attempt to keep up shows the speedometer's needle also blasting from 50 to 80 mph in about two seconds—2025 Corvette ZR-1 territory, buddy!

There is a listing for a job opening at a Mobil gas station owned by Bryar, currently building a hot rod. The high schooler now has a father figure who understands burning rubber off tires and wasting fuel a quarter mile at a time. Later, the even-tempered mechanic gives some valuable advice to Courtney's father on how to be one. With some inner confessions, Dad turns the corner at Reality and Shame. He learns his son got clobbered by Fuller and Dad wants to teach him how to defend himself. Turns out, 'ol dad was a middle-weight boxing champion in college. Dad's lesson with boxing gloves has him feeling like a champion again. Knocking his son to the grass a few times feels pretty good. A second lesson is not happening.

Fuller challenges the introvert to a drag race for Byron's honor—what to do, what to do?! Courtney lies about his age to a used car salesman, Bing Russell, and lies about just going around the block for a test drive. I am beginning to side with his father. Courtney calls to inform him he will return the car the next morning. Russell is irate. He had a big date. He is the antithesis of a stereotypical used car salesman and no charges are filed. Ahh...to live in the early twentieth century when common sense overruled suing. The law offices of "Fuller & Courtney" meet with the former suggesting they drive towards each other at top speed in near cave darkness. Cool. Showing more courage than either driver, Byron intervenes by standing in the middle of the road, causing both idiots to do the “Byron Swerve.” She promptly faints.

Courtney steals the hot rod from the gas station. The Mobil owner planned to drive it in the upcoming drag race in place of his son, afflicted with Polio. Putting wisdom forefront, Bryar has faith the man/boy took the rod to put Fuller in his place. Never mind about zero drag strip experience. It is a no-brainer who beats who, which is edited as if it is a mile-long track, Full-of-it Fuller falsely accuses his competitor of trying to wreak him—the excuse for losing. Both actors were trained stuntmen so they pull off a pretty realistic fistfight. Courtney's single boxing lesson pays off as he pictures Fuller as his dad. Pop buys the hot rod for his favorite son and drives it home. To Courtney's delight, Dad gets the speeding ticket instead.

Notes: The title song is performed well by David Houston (1935-1993). The song is also used during the first trip to the Front Page diner where teens seem to think it is a tune you could possibly dance to. He is credited as the star of RCA Victor Recording in the fashion of a Frankie Avalon or Bobby Rydell of the period. But Houston's mark was on the country music charts, finding huge success in the 1960s.

Chuck Courtney gained a splash of notoriety initially by playing the visiting nephew of the Lone Ranger for several episodes before this film. With a couple of exceptions, he is best known for his supporting roles in countless Westerns. Another actor getting his start in the Western was popular television leading man, Robert Fuller. He gained stardom for television's Laramie, Wagon Train and Emergency!.

ABANDONED (1949)

When I began my selected movie reviews in 2015, I never imagined I would comment on eight films starring the same actor. A record. Dennis O'Keefe had an authentic acting style and a knack for delivering charm and witty quips like few others. Using a few pseudonyms, he was also an under-the-radar screenwriter. From my perspective, O'Keefe hits all the right buttons in my B-movie world.

Distributed by Universal Pictures, this seventy-nine-minute film is a police versus crime melodrama like many others. But the subject matter sets this film apart. William Daniels' cinematography raises the bar, as does Joseph Newman's rapid pace directing. As per the era, camera filters transform daylight into nighttime. The film stars Dennis O'Keefe, Gale Storm and Jeff Chandler. O'Keefe appears to extend his character from the film Cover Up, of the same year, with his oft-used charming, witty characters. I would have liked more of a balance between this and his previous T-Men role. Storm restrains her typical bubbly light performances, while Chandler's periodic appearance as a no-nonsense police chief fits him. He also provides opening and periodic voice-over narration for a pseudo-documentary style as if ripped from actual cases. 

Storm inquires about her lost sister at the missing person's bureau at the city hall. Happening upon the scene is crack news reporter, O'Keefe, who overhears the conversation and charmingly offers his services to help her locate her sister, sensing a headline story or maybe hoping for a date. William Bowers' snappy dialogue has several characters delivering witty quips, but none more often or naturally than O'Keefe. He and Storm team up—after a fashion—and he is compelled to test some witty quips out on her. Expect an eventual "get to know each other" moment with small talk as they stake out a residence inside his sedan. Oh yeah...they like each other. 

Someone is tracking them and it sets up another set of clever dialogue. Raymond Burr is yanked from behind and the reporter lifts a revolver from Burr's coat and sarcastically states, "I know. You couldn't sleep so you just decided to take your gun out for a walk." The private eye's client has him also trying to find the sister's whereabouts. The three head for the city morgue and discover the sister is no longer missing, an assumed suicide victim. The sister's out-of-wedlock baby establishes the controversial crux of the film, a baby black market of illegal adoptions. Burr's client is society matron, Marjorie Rambeau, the despicable ring leader of a criminal crew, led by the menacing Will Kuluva. 

Under assumed names as a married couple, O'Keefe and Storm arrange the adoption of her niece with the two-faced Rambeau—suddenly all sweetness. She spends her off-hours distributing Bibles as cover for her operation. The anticipation of leaving the racket and a large payoff, Burr intercepts the transfer and Storm is given the baby and instructed to wait at the house until further notice. Burr is now up to his neck in Kuluva. Not being a very stealthy private detective, he is apprehended by the gangster and undergoes matchbook armpit torture to extract facts. A first (and last?) in film torture to my knowledge. Burr quickly becomes useless to Rambeau. With a knock at the room's door, Storm just opens it without asking who it is, assuming it is O'Keefe. Thus begins the climax, the only tense action in the film, with an implausible car crash and Universal International's gunshot sound effects. Narration closes the story with, "...This did happen in the city which may be your home."

Note: Some who discover this film more recently tend to be cynical about the production, impatiently finding it boring. Interestingly, the reviews closer to the release date are generally more favorable. Though mid-century film aspects are dated today, the acting and character development can stand the test of time. One should understand the historical era to give a fair assessment. 

THE RESTLESS BREED (1957)

This is the final Western from director Allan Dwan, known for many "oaters." It is also my first Western added to this blog after a decade considering a pre-1960 Western that is not typical fare. My "first draw" to this particular Western was Scott Brady. With a long career as a famous leading and supporting player, he can usually elevate B-movies. Unlike most Westerns of the era, the film opens oddly (uniquely?) with a black background behind a glowing red modern font of credits accompanied by a contemporary music score by Edward L. Alperson Jr. The result creates an impression more attuned to a low-budget horror film by William Castle. The opening music somewhat foretells Brady's own television Western, Shotgun Slade, with its atypical jazz score. 

The Restless Breed is distributed by 20th Century Fox. The Pathécolor tinting is of questionable quality in a film that utilizes bluish (night) studio sets along with location filming. Set in 1865, the story is written by Steve Fisher. The film's main stars are Scott Brady, Anne Bancroft, and Rhys Williams, along with a few familiar B-movie character actors. Fine performances all around. Be prepared for some unnecessary and disruptive two-second edits that return the viewer to another location during a break in the conversation. There is an overabundance of character eavesdropping, too, but it is not intended to be humorous.

A lawyer with a temper, Brady opens the film as it confirms his father, a Secret Service Agent, has been murdered. The incident is told in a brief flashback that has true spoiler-alert credentials. He accepts his father's revolver but not the badge. Bent on revenge, he goes to the town where the murder took place, a Texas-Mexico border town overrun by the typical gang of outlaws. After a self-defensive shooting of two town bullies, everyone thinks he is their latest gunslinger.

There appears to be a significant role for Scott Marlowe yet he is irrelevant until near the movie's end. The young Marlowe pops up throughout the film lurking nervously against storefront posts, in alleys, or peeping through a broken section of a saloon window. His every appearance proves he does not have the nerve to shoot down Brady. This eavesdropper reports to Leo Gordon, one in the gang of gun-runners, whose boss is Jim Davis.

Williams is quite the eavesdropper, himself. These "advanced notifications" make him wise beyond his understanding. He is perceived as the only sensibility factor in town, benefitted by dressing in black like a minister. When pressed by Brady, however, he admits to the impersonation. Only his word should be taken as gospel. The tunnel-visioned Williams deems his good intentions are best for the whole town. His soft-spoken demeanor always wins out. It is hard to argue with a man who initiated a children's shelter of unwanted half-breeds. The oldest being Bancroft. Williams becomes much more "hard-spoken" when she becomes enamored with Brady. Always ready to make demands, she must stay away from that no good gunslinging [though handsome] criminal.

All the town's previous sheriffs have been murdered soon after taking office. Brady himself survives numerous assassination attempts but the gang's numbers only dwindle. Beware of a hot-headed lawyer with a gun. Williams finally gets the facts about Brady and nearly apologizes. The murderer arrives back in town with a few of his henchmen. We learn of Marlowe's small part in the murder, then he disappears from the film. We can only assume he still lurks. Everyone supposed to be dead is now dead and Williams supports the Brady-Bancroft union.

Note: I could not pinpoint the restless breed. It could be Brady, out for revenge. The contraband gang is quite restless. Perhaps it is Bancroft, wanting to break out of a children's shelter. Perhaps it is all three or the town itself. It could be the four producers of the film.

THE INSIDE STORY (1948)

This eight-seven-minute comedy begins in 1948 with a voice-over about a small town's Uncle Ed, played by Charles Winninger, who suggests every town has one—a lovable but absent-minded inn clerk possessed by “knock-knock” jokes. He has a habit of wearing his eyeglasses on the top of his head, with consistent reminders of where to locate them. The live-action has Winninger entering a bank to place government bonds into his safe deposit box. Accessing funds is a friend. Both men have different views about hoarding or spending money. Winninger tries to persuade him to invest in government bonds and circulate his money. The balance of the film flashes back to 1933 in the midst of the Great Depression as Winninger recalls the "inside story" about one confusing day due to his error handling a thousand dollars.

The story is by Ernest Lehman and Geza Herczeg and the snappy screenplay by the team of Mary Loos and Richard Sale. It is a Depression-era story written when President Roosevelt declared an eight-day "bank holiday" (closings) with the Emergency Banking Act of 1933 to avoid customer withdrawals. In the case of this film, however, it involves the circulation of a thousand dollars that solves and creates problems.

William Lundigan plays a struggling artist (cliché intended). He is stressed about a decent living for supporting his fiancée, Marsha Hunt. He owes a thousand dollars to her father, Gene Lockhart, owner of a local inn. Lockhart loathes the artist's feast-or-famine career pursuit. It initiates his overstepping the bounds of character exaggeration. The frequency becomes a bit out of place in a film of subtle humor, not in keeping with a screwball comedy.

While attending to an inn guest, Roscoe Karns, Winninger mindlessly puts his thousand dollars in the wrong envelope—addressed to Lundigan—into the safe. Karn's insurance money is meant for a local farmer, Tom Fadden, when he arrives. Karns uses his typical rapid-fire delivery as a wisecracking womanizer with a trademark double-take after a verbal smackdown. He is frightened by the mere mention of conflict. Lockhart later finds the money in the safe and mistakenly thinks it was payment for Lundigan's paintings. He quickly changes his tune toward Lundigan in absurd fashion. He claims the cash to pay off his debt to local merchant, Will Wright, who in turn pays what he owes the building's owner, Florence Bates. The head-strong Bates in turn gives the money to an attorney, Robert Shayne, to cover waning legal fees. 

Speaking of over-the-top, Shayne is so distraught over not being able to make a living for his wife, Gail Patrick, he considers suicide. Bates prevents this with her visit to his office. Suddenly Shayne is beside himself with joy. I suspect he is bipolar. Patrick then uses the money to pay Lundigan for her portrait she's gifting her husband. So, amusingly, the money goes full circle, ending up with the artist, who then pays Lockhart, who gives it to Winninger to place in the safe. Perfect timing for Karns to pay farmer Fadden. Into the mix is are bootleggers, Allen Jenkins, and his dim-witted partner, William Haad, was tempted to steal the dough in the safe. But unknown to them, the safe is empty!

Note: The film has its implausibilities with the aforementioned over-the-top emotional swings and the fact that all six people owe or are paid exactly one thousand dollars. Winninger is the spark of the film. In true form is both lovable and exasperating. Hunt, Lundigan, and Shayne never looked better.

ARSON, INC. (1949)

The American production company, Lippert Pictures, had a talent for underwriting low-budget action films which were generally easy to like: they were short; had bits of humor; and typically an exciting climax. Directed by William Berke and produced by William Stephens from a story by Arthur Caesar, everything is in order for this film about tracking down an arsonist by an undercover fireman—not a police detective. This may seem like old serial episodes edited into a sixty-three-minute film noir. It is not. One might discover this film under the alternate titles, Firebug Squad or Three Alarm Fire.

The film's opening credits are supported by an upstanding military march theme followed by a voice-over that spells out the film's premise. The narrator plays the Deputy Chief of the Los Angeles Fire Department who smoothly transitions his speech to welcome handsome Robert Lowery (below center) into his office. Chosen because of his special interest and knack in solving crimes of fire. He is given full reign to find the missing briefcase of evidence from a fellow investigator, deliberately killed during his own arson investigation. Lowery must expose who is behind the killing and the suspicious warehouse fires of recent years.

Perennially slimy bad guy, Doug Fowley (above right), is the insurance claims adjuster whose payouts for property loss in fires seem legitimate. The smug agent delivers his lines—initially in extreme close-ups—as tight-lipped as someone whose jaws are wired shut following reconstructive surgery. On the take is Hollywood's well-known nervous weasel, Byron Foulger, needing money to cover past debts. Fowley tells him to torch his wife's mink coat—something Foulger has probably thought about for years—to be awarded the needed cash. The spineless husband senses he may get burned after Lowery's initial questioning.

With a never-ending supply of matches is the usually harmless, double-chinned, balding, comedic actor, Ed Brophy (above left), often delivering reactionary lines in other films as a poor man's Curly of The Three Stooges fame. As Fowley's fire man, he is instructed to keep tabs on Lowery. The investigator goes deep cover as a disgruntled firefighter to gain the confidence of Brophy, the latter vouching for him to his boss. Now, good pals, they frequent a bookie's backroom hideout. During a raid, the two are arrested. The following day, a phony newspaper headline indicates Lowery lost his job as a firefighter. Brophy is encouraged that Lowery is a rat just like himself. The duo works with Fowley on his next fire sale.

There are three female costars in this film: Anne Gwynne plays a school teacher and part-time babysitter for Foulger's young son. Lowery is instantly aflame for her upon their first meeting. She initially puts his fire out, but it does not take long to figure their budding relationship. Gwynne even plays along as part of his undercover work. Brophy sets off a warehouse fire but cannot resist having Lowery drive him back to see the huge flames. But Lowery tipped off an undercover cop, who was nearby to put the potential blaze out. This is disappointing to Brophy, and very suspicious to Fowley.

The second female is Marcia Mae Jones (above lower right), Fowley's secretary, with facial features appearing to be a composite of three females, all put together at odd angles. With too much to drink while dining with Brophy, Lowery, and Gwynne, she lets it slip about the next warehouse fire of mink stoles. Turns out it is Fowley's plan to see if Lowery shows up. No minks are going up in flames with a flummoxed Lowery trying to explain it to the fire captain. Bullets whiz by Lowery as he and Gwynne take cover in the warehouse. The seething Brophy sets off another fire to flesh them out for a clear shot.

Note: The briefly seen third female costar is Maude Eburne as "Grandma," also an occasional babysitter for Foulger. Her elderly face is on the opposite end of the spectrum from Gwynne. As is often the case in a Lippert production, levity plays its part. She and Lowery accidentally bump into each other early in the film—she completely in his arms. It becomes the amorous highlight of her day. Eburen wrapped up her thirty-three-year career one picture and two years later.

Mismatched Couples Blogathon

TELEVISION HISTORY 101

Decidedly unknown today, even in America, Yancy Derringer (1958-59) was categorized as a Western but set in New Orleans—a Southern Western if you will, broadcast on the USA's CBS network. It was an era of gimmick Westerns to remove the stigma of the traditional Westerns in the likes of Cheyenne, Gunsmoke, or Wagon Train. The trend was The Rifleman, Wanted: Dead or Alive, Have Gun—Will Travel or Bat Masterson. Each weekly hero carried unique defensive weapons. One Western lead had shiny discs around his hatband that blinded his opponent in a gunfight given his precise positioning against the sun. There was also a short-lived series of a one-armed bounty hunter—his prosthetic arm covered in black leather and supported by a sling. And there was the Derringer series. The title character owned a river boat, a lavish homestead, was an expert card sharp, and had a most apt name for the character: he concealed four-barrel Sharp derringers, one up his sleeve, another in his vest, and a third under his hat. Oh, and he sometimes carried a cane that concealed a sword. Just in case.
Yancy Derringer undoubtedly had the largest gimmick: a Pawnee Indian sidekick. At first glance, he appeared to be the cliché cigar store Indian seen in many ancient Western films or television episodes. His face remained emotionless, and he hardly ever bent at the waist except to sit. Pahoo Ka Ta Wah never spoke and rarely broke a stare. The duo communicated only by sign language.

On the other hand, Derringer was a fancy-dressed dude. Always cool, fluid, collected, and the ever-gallant gentleman to the ladies. He looked every bit that next to the wooden Pahoo in authentic Indian dress. In this contrast, few characters appeared more disparate than these two. Far from it. Acknowledged blood brothers, Pahoo always had Yancy's back with a knife sheathed behind his right shoulder and a buckshot-spitting shotgun concealed under his Native blanket. However mismatched they appeared, they were a tightly synchronized duo on the set because both began their careers as stuntmen.

Derringer is played by Jock Mahoney while Pahoo is played by Jay X Brands X Brands. Mahoney is considered the most original and best stuntman working in Hollywood in the Forties and Fifties with an athletic ability that stunned his contemporaries in the business. His earlier Western series, Range Rider, showcased many of his outstanding abilities. As stuntmen, they were consistently developing new stunts for the Derringer series. One of the more common was passing Pahoo's knife back and forth—a deceivingly simple toss backward—without looking. By the way, it was Mahoney's suggestion that Brands not say a word during his audition for the part. Pahoo became a defining character of the series.

Notes: With its blend of drama, action and humor, the series was destined for a second season but the CBS network, now realizing they had a hit on their hands, wanted a significant interest in the series and wanted Desilu Productions out of the mix. Neither Mahoney nor the creators would agree to this and the network canceled the series.

A special thank you to Realweegiemidget Reviews for hosting the Mismatched Couples Blogathon.

SHAKEDOWN (1950)

Howard Duff plays an over-confident, womanizing con man with a camera who despises the low income of society, of which he is currently a part. The opening beating he takes sets the tone for his well-known lack of character. Among other things, the love of money is the root of all evil and he will use anyone as a stepping stone for financial gain. A newspaper photo editor, Peggy Dow, falls for Duff's smooth, charming manner and ambition, then vouches for him to the editor-in-chief, Bruce Bennett. With a nose for news, honesty and integrity, he does not like Duff from the outset—something rotten is developing. Nevertheless, due to her persistence, he is hired. In time, his uncanny ability to be in the exact spot to capture a newsworthy happening suspiciously lacks authenticity. Like the time Duff happens upon an apartment fire and spots a lady breaking a third-story window for escape. He tells her to pause then yells, "Now jump." Click! I assume there were firemen to catch her. Not an issue for Duff.

Duff surviving until the end of this film seems highly unlikely. His cocky, yet naivete, gets him involved with organized crime. He is well paid for his darkroom skills, going to work for a racketeer, Brian Donlevy, who provides him with inside information about a rival's activity. Duff just "happens" to be in downtown San Francisco to capture Lawrence Tierney during the bank robbery. Duff later approaches Tierney to offer him a deal—he will keep the negative in safe keeping for a substantial fee. If that is not enough, he later hides in a parking garage to capture him in the act of installing an after-market accessory to Donlevy's limo: a bomb. The unscrupulous shutterbug now has the blackmail image of his dreams. Duff is free to swoop in for Donlevy's widow, Anne Vernon.

During the rapid climax at a high society formal event, Duff's true colors are revealed to Vernon—Tierney suggests he was responsible for her husband's death. But those negatives, hidden within a picture frame at Dow's apartment, will prove otherwise. Duff's frantic call proves fruitless. She is fed up with his fabrications and hangs up on him. Duff is a marked man. After being shot three times, he still manages to squeeze the shutter release cable hanging from his tripod to photograph Tierney firing the fatal bullet.

Duff lived for a “shot” at immortality. His photographic evidence brings the mobsters to justice. Yet the newspaper staff knew he was a "skunk of the first odor" all along.

Note: The eighty-minute film was released by Universal Pictures and directed by Joseph Pevney. It is a better-than-average B-movie noir. Fine performances all around. The powerful scores are from a stock library by several well-known composers. Duff effortlessly delivers numerous sarcastic, witty quips throughout—like a guy who memorized the excellent screenplay by Martin Goldsmith and Alfred Lewis Levitt. Ignore the poster. At no time did Donlevy attempt to punch out Duff. The viewers on the other hand....

There is at least one gullible moment in the film. Duff desperately wants that image few could capture. As a taxi fare, he notices the car in front is weaving left and right and thinks it might lead to something. The erratic car does plunge into shallow water, balanced precipitously on its side—the driver in a panic. Rather than help the driver, Duff tells him to stick his head out the side window and then stretch out his arms in a show of desperation. Why the driver would comply with these commands is difficult to fathom.