NEW ORLEANS AFTER DARK (1958)

Poor Stacy Harris, the stalwart B-movie and television actor, tries to hold this shoestring-budgeted film together while being surrounded by a production full of amateurs. Few films are more forgotten or unknown than this one. Perhaps to give a jolt to realism, a few “actors” are actual police officers. The police captain, Louis Sirgo, is for real and with no acting experience. He holds his own pretty well but the family scenes are shaky, mostly due to poor directing and a cliched script. Their first family scene awkwardly plays out similar to those teenage etiquette films of the era.

The film opens on a sleazy section of Bourbon Street as an “exotic” dancer is called into the lounge owner’s office. He is angry at all the needle marks on her arm and arranges to have her stowed away in a motel to detox. It is a short night for her. Finding the murderer is a job for professionals. Detective Harris and Captain Sirgo will have to do. Sirgo, being the proper spouse and parent, dutifully calls home frequently to apologize for the constant developments in the case and postpone the family fishing trip. It does not get any more real than that.

To continue the film’s awkwardness, the motel manager, helping describe a visitor that night, with eyes looking up in deep thought, says he can still hear those heels clicking. Cowboy boots...pant legs rolled down over them. That is some kind of hearing. He should be a spy or something. They find cowboy boots but attached to the wrong man.

We are taken to another nightclub where Dixieland music is playing. The people around the bar apparently are not aware of this because most are tapping their fingers on the bar counter to the rhythm from a different club. In the same scene, one camera may have a sharp focus on Harris, while the actor he is interrogating has a soft focus. Looking like old stock footage. Most interior scenes are covered by a single area microphone.

The lounge owner, known affectionately as “The Boss,” is fronting his heroin business as a tobacco exporter. Destroying hundreds of clients, one way or the other. By now, we discover the late cow-booted killer was simply a hired gun. Harris and Sirgo, as well-known local cops, go “undercover” as dishonest sailors. Everyone recognizes them immediately. Even Clark Kent wore spectacles and we know how effective those were. But thanks to their training, they manage to turn the tables on the thugs. They eventually tail the boss to his warehouse where the policemen arrest him after bullets are exchanged. No shots fired...they just exchanged bullets. This movie makes a good case for never creating “reality” television shows.

Note: This film is based on the 1955 television series "N.O.P.D." starring Stacy Harris. The "documentary" movie takes the sleaze level to a new low. One of only two films produced by Eric Sayers, it probably accounts for the awful presentation. His credentials are as thin as the cinematography work by Willis Winford or the direction by John Sledge.

PLUNDER ROAD (1957)

This gripping tale of an elaborate nighttime scheme to heist ten million in gold from a special government train opens with effective title credits as the highway centerline weaves back and forth across the screen. The first fifteen minutes will have you glued, what with the driving rain, the pounding score, and the character’s voice-over inner doubts about their meticulous plan's success. The seventy-two-minute film is concise with little wasted footage. Transportation buffs will enjoy the realism of location shooting.

Directed by Hubert Cornfield with a screenplay by Steven Ritch (above left) from his and Jack Charney's story, this crime gem was produced by Regal Films and distributed by 20th Century Fox. Gene Raymond (above) is the mastermind. He has never pulled off anything like this before. But Raymond is the only one with a college degree, making him the most highly qualified "heister" among the gang. The other four men are from mixed backgrounds with Wayne Morris and Elisha Cook Jr. as the only seasoned criminals (below). The crooks bring the train to a stop with a series of rail explosions by clever long-distance detonations, spectacularly blowing open the boxcar carrying the gold.

Their story then unfolds over nine hundred miles with Raymond not confident everyone will make it. The gold is divided among three trucks, each going different routes, leaving at precise intervals, as devised by the college graduate. The guys patiently wait for their departure time just as the viewer has to patiently wait for what comes next. An effective director’s device or not, it works. The single driver, then the duo, eventually get apprehended in deflating fashion compared to the film’s hard-hitting opening. It realistically captures how mundane these infallible men can be captured. Out of nowhere, Raymond’s girlfriend shows up. Jeanne Cooper is also connected to the heist, handling the fake delivery papers and passports for their south-of-the-border rendezvous.

Raymond, Cooper, and Ritch make it to Los Angeles and they are feeling pretty smug. In a feat that is a bit hard to believe, they melt down their gold into bumpers and wheel covers to fancy up their air-suspended Cadillac. After a strong beginning and middle section, the ending is certainly the film's weakest point. And a bit laughable. Making a getaway on a Los Angeles freeway at rush hour was not as well planned as the train robbery. Then a simple fender bender brings over the police who notice a most unusual Cadillac accessory...solid gold bumpers. The three, in the typical fashion of the era, run for it. From the overpass, Raymond decides to jump onto an oncoming truck trailer on the highway below. His parkour skills not well polished, it sets up one of those “whoa” moments. Desperation, thy name in Raymond.

ON DANGEROUS GROUND (1951)

This RKO film, directed by Nicholas Ray and produced by John Houseman with a distinctly Bernard Herrmann opening score, effectively uses of a "hammer against an anvil" (or muted chime) giving one note a definitively sharp, steely ring. Like a migraine headache. A few audio CDs on the market better define Herrmann's score, however. City night scenes set a thick film-noir look with great point-of-view camera positioning. Even a rare-for-its-day hand-held camera for at least one chase scene. It is a slow-burn opening about an eleven-year detective who thinks he is more garbage collector than law officer. Though the final third is in stark contrast (nearly two movies in one) with the gritty dreariness of the city, there is never a moment wasted.

Robert Ryan plays the embittered detective dealing with urban low-life. A guy who has a penchant for beating suspects into a confession. After repeated warnings from the police chief, Ryan is reprimanded and sent to a remote, snow-covered part of the state to solve a young girl's murder. He is paired with the victim's father, Ward Bond, who only wants to shoot the killer himself. He grows impatient with Ryan, wasting time with his methodical “big city” protocols. Their search provides testy interaction with Ryan showing great restraint for not socking Bond in the jaw. Seemingly a pairing of contrasts, they both have something in common.

After trekking through deep snow, the two men eventually come upon a cabin occupied by a nearly blind Ida Lupino, the killer’s sister. At this point, the film shifts to two characters consumed with loneliness: one alone in solitude, and one alone in crowds. It is the start of Ryan’s personal transformation. His past behavior identifies with Bond’s single-minded rage and his subtle transformation is moving. His pride remains intact, but his face indicates we are witnessing a new man. It is a subtle, standout performance by Ryan. In a startling scene, Bond, who thinks Lupino is faking her blindness, attempts to strike her across the face. Ryan grabs his arm in time. He is later remorseful for his own blinding rage. Two men are transformed.

Things do not turn out exactly as hoped after the murderer is located. Lupino resigns herself to be alone despite Ryan's offer to help be her eyes. Reluctantly, he drives back to the city only to return the next day because "garbage detail" does not outweigh his need to be with Lupino. And until the day Lupino spills hot coffee in his lap, one expects a long future for them.

Note: While no masterpiece of filmmaking, it is noteworthy for its direction, cinematography, and Ryan's performance. One may wonder how Ryan and Lupino might survive with little or no income in that secluded, mountain cabin. So the ending is left in limbo. That can be frustrating to any viewer who cannot logically conjure up one.

THE SHADOW ON THE WINDOW (1957)

While playing outside the home where his mother, Betty Garrett, is temporarily employed, Jerry Mathers hears her screams. Running to the window he sees her being thrown violently to the floor. Coupled with his witness of the homeowner’s murder, the boy goes into a state of shock as he wanders off, never blinking, down a road until two truck drivers help him to safety. Enter police detective, Philip Carey, with the most envious character name Tony Atlas. It is his boy who was rescued and Mrs. Atlas held hostage. He is told of the boy’s condition and then proceeds to find out what happened. Maybe a hug would have helped the boy. Carey’s stoic, low-key performance does not always fit the compassionate father role. Not until they track down the truck drivers hours later are they able to locate the secluded farmhouse.

This B-movie includes the usual tense moments as Garrett tries and fails to befriend Corey Allen, one of the three miscreants, with a briefly exciting choreographed chase to apprehend him. This must have been the era to have psychos with blonde hair. From Raymond Burr to Skip Homeier and now Allen. None in the gang have their head screwed on right. We know the three losers are not going to make it but not how. Seeing their Sociopathic leader, John Drew Barrymore, break down his bravado into a sniveling coward when seriously challenged is...uh...expected. Though the hostage premise is not unique, and the hoods are typical of the era, it is not a total embarrassment.

Location filming adds realism but it plays out more like a television episode. Directed by William Asher with a screenplay by Leo Townsend and David Harmon, this seventy-six-minute film noir was released by Columbia Pictures. The music score was by the five-time Oscar-nominated George Duning.

Note: I find the poster humorous due to the perspective of the handgun, assumed in Carey's right hand, and his ability to shoot awkwardly around corners. For excitement, I think the illustrator was told to add a gun at the last minute. Make your own conclusions.

MOHAWK (1956)

There are enough embarrassing movies to do a very long film festival, but this film ranks—in the literal sense—pretty high. This eighty-minute film was distributed by 20th Century Fox. The actors mostly justify their salaries so it is not their fault. Most of the arrows are aimed at the screenwriter, Maurice Geraghty. The main cast consists of Scott Brady, Neville Brand, Ted de Corsia, Allison Hayes, John Hoyt, Rita Gam, and Lori Nelson. All are destined for television notoriety. The casting net was not very wide. Unintentionally funny can bring the house ... er ... tee-pee down.

Brady plays an 18th-century Casanova artist from Boston looking for subjects and action in early America. The Iroquois, mostly from Wall Street, are favorite subjects for both. The local tavern waitress at the military fort is Hayes, his favorite model to add "flavor" to his landscapes. Never mind that Nelson plays his fiance. Captain Kirk should be so lucky. Gam had a beautiful European facial structure (being born in Pittsburgh) so naturally she is cast as a beautiful Native American. She becomes Brady's main squeeze. Neville Brand is cast in the little-known sub-tribe, the "Irritated Iroquois," and is suspicious of the “white paint man.” Hateful Hoyt deceptively seeks to generate war between the Continental Army and the Indians, ridding the Mohawk Valley of all selective settlers he despises, leaving the land all to himself.

Known mostly for his gangster roles, the "Chief Mohawkster" is de Corsia (above), and visually hilarious with a mohawk and his four-day-dead, grayish-violet makeup. I should mention that his teenage son seems to have come directly from the set of Rebel Without A Cause. The set designers were going through their blue-violet period. There is a lot of it on Ted, trees and tee-pees alike. I figure Brady painted them, too. One scene, in particular, may remind one of the color palette in a Maxfield Parrish painting. Beyond the obvious outdoor sets foreshadowing television's Bonanza, are sequences from 1939’s Drums Along the Mohawk, the film’s most expensive highlights. If this had been meant to be a comedy, Mel Brooks could have skewered the stereotypes in typical fashion. Some scenes will have the viewer laugh or groan. In the end, we learn nothing authentic about early American history, except that oil paints travel well in saddlebags. The flammable solution to clean their brushes? Not so much.

Note: The film is often categorized as a Western, but it is really an "Eastern." It is directed by Kurt Neumann, later known for his science fiction projects, and produced by Edward L. Alperson, who also wrote the music. There is red-colored descriptive text at the beginning to introduce the film, "A Legend of the Iroquois..." but ends the film with an odd pseudo-credit of sorts, "...and those were the players of the legend."