The early, low-budget Richard Fleischer movies were noted for realism through location shooting and in-car cameras, giving credence to the scripts. Violent Saturday has the realism front covered but this time with a larger budget worthy of the then-popular CinemaScope. Hiring Hugo Friedhofer to do the score settles the issue. From the opening scene of the obligatory bus arrival, Fleischer does not let your attention wander. Cameras weave in, out, up, and down setting up scenes and characters with no loss of continuity. Each bank robber is stationed in pivotal locations of anticipation. All ideal for CinemaScope. It is not without its faults, as a few sequences may generate a few chuckles in the truest soap opera sense. There is at least one illogical scene that thrusts the suspension of disbelief on you. The script involves a myriad of character subplots, not unlike many of today's television dramas. But the film is first-rate.
Speaking of first-rate, Victor Mature gets top billing. An obvious assumption based on his leading roles over the past decade. His supporting cast is equally strong, including up-and-comers, Lee Marvin and Ernest Borgnine. Along with stalwarts, J. Carrol Naish and Stephen McNally, are Richard Egan, Sylvia Sidney, and Virginia Leith. They even managed to work in Brad Dexter as his smarmy self.
Tommy Noonan has a creepy subplot as the awkward and emotionally challenged bank manager who moonlights as a voyeur of a nurse, Leith. He peeks into her window at night. He follows her around town to get closer to her. He nearly faints at the drugstore, finding himself in a tight spot exiting, brushing between her and a display rack. It was not meant to be funny in 1955. His character is also married which makes one wonder how that is going. He is wounded on this violent Saturday and Leith is the nurse monitoring him. With a sense of manliness, he confesses his weird behavior to her. She does not give it a second thought. She is actually flattered. What a gal. What an era.
Known for her somewhat wooden acting and with one of the most unfortunate female voices since the silent era, Virginia Leith never made it into the big time. She was attractive but it is hard to describe her occasional goofy voice. When she keeps her volume low, it disguises the real danger when she smiles and talks. Her throat tightens up and all her feminine qualities vanish. Her first greeting to Egan in the drugstore is a prime example. During this era, one would think the producers would have provided some vocal training. That training is not used today as actors and actresses are not associated with any studio demands.
That obligatory bus lets off McNally, the self-proclaimed “traveling salesman.” He is soon joined by two “junior salesmen,” the sadistic nasal inhaler, Marvin, and Naish, appearing to be everyone’s favorite uncle. Naish has been through this routine before and has the presence of mind to keep candy in his suit pocket in case an unruly child in the bank needs to be distracted.
There is a somewhat humorous scene for Marvin. It is a great scene that captures his character. Sometime after McNally has reviewed the bank robbery plans, Marvin is restless. He cannot sleep. He does, however, want to talk about all the women who have messed up his life. He always went for “skinny broads.” Just skin and bones. One wife, in particular, was a record holder for getting colds. Then he would get a cold. Maybe fifty times. That is how he got addicted to nasal inhalers. She left him for a two-bit undertaker. Another character revelation centers on a local boy who accidentally bumps into Marvin, knocking his inhaler to the sidewalk. Uh-oh. As the boy apologizes and attempts to retrieve the inhaler, Marvin grinds the boy’s hand into the concrete with his shoe. He enjoyed it.
Mature’s Mercury is what the robbers need and at gunpoint, he is ordered to drive to the Amish farm. Fleischer’s in-car camera goes to work and Friedhofer’s score cranks up the excitement. The final stand-off scene was controversial at the time as the bandits tie up Mature and the Amish family in the barn’s hayloft. Seeing the family lined up with white tape covering their faces is a still bit unsettling as they look less than human. Mature manages to cut the ropes around his wrists and then sets the Amish free—in a nod to Abraham Lincoln. The bandits then position the Mercury in front of the barn doors and with a huge stone over the accelerator, the high-revving engine is remotely shifted into gear with a rake, and the car rams through. They set the car’s gas tank on fire to level the barn. With little fear nor assuming the car might explode, Mature crawls underneath the car and shoots another of the robbers. Marvin kicks his inhaler habit with Borgnine's pitchfork thrust into his back, in a shocking moment.
Mature's young son could not explain why his friends called his dad a coward—a prime example of attacking someone before knowing the facts. Mature was more useful at home in the copper mines during World War II. After his recovery of the stolen money, blowing away two criminals with a shotgun, and getting wounded himself, he becomes a hero to his son, and he gains a few new friends.
Note: Perhaps the jury is still out on how deep a pitchfork could be driven into the upper back to kill a person instantly as suggested in this film. It would take thee one monumental thrust into the spinal column. Based on the effect in the film, passing out would be logical, and with medical attention, it would seem survivable.
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