THE REBEL SET (1959)

Allied Artists Pictures distributed this basement-budget crime tale for E & L Productions. A one-time offering apparently. The only thing lowering this below other heist films of the period is the hilarious “pre-hippie” sub-culture. In this regard, the film could stand alone. A position it richly deserves. Thankfully brief, the lame performances are the comedic low point in the movie though the opening jazz combo is cool enough. Dig it, daddio? Other than the opening, an innocuous score seems to be added without the director's knowledge. After an opening seemingly longer than fifteen minutes, the plot unfolds and the film gets better. But make no mistake, this film is funnier than intended. 

Edward “Get Smart” Platt, steals the film and delivers a convincing performance as a scoundrel in a silk lounging robe. A bit of humor can be found beyond the coffee house performers, thanks to quips from Ned Glass, Platt's leg man, and wristwatch fence. Platt is certainly full of himself as he frequently quotes famous literary passages, making whomever he is with feel inferior. Glass assumes he is a master chess player because he never loses. On the contrary, Platt simply handpicks customers who cannot play the game well. He appears to be the biggest Beatnik sellout. In reality, his Los Angeles coffee house provides him cover where sunglass-wearing, anti-establishment weirdos with van dikes spout poetry—after a fashion—or leotard-clad females attempt interpretative dance all in an effort to “find themselves” through overt behavior. As most surely know, bongo drums have a magical power to transform people into groovy cats. Can you dig?

Being the wise judge of character he is, Platt condescendingly hires three frequent coffee house losers he has been monitoring. He asks their help to rob an armored truck of one million clams during the stopover in Chicago of the Los Angeles to New York train. All three men could use a financial portfolio booster. Top-billed and obviously acting, Gregg Palmer, and his wife, Kathleen Crowley, are struggling because he cannot land any acting gigs. (He was lucky to get this one) She suspects he is not trying that hard. It is not that he lacks potential. He is quite believable when coming up with excuses. John Lupton has writer's block and Don Sullivan's only achievement, barring a few suicide attempts, is being the rich brat-of-a-son to his famous actress mommy.

The slickly planned and timed professional heist during the train's four-hour layover in Chicago goes without a hitch. Assuming all things could go as planned, these scenes are feasible. Platt “shaves off” his studio beard and dons a clerical collar. A good disguise as all the elderly ladies on board think he is swell when quoting scripture. But one cannot judge a priest by his collar.

Sullivan's greed gets the best of him and he plans to keep the entire take for himself. When he turns up dead, Palmer suspects someone is not playing fair. Dig, my brother? He and Lupton spot a type-written suicide note designed to quell any suspicions. But Palmer astutely blurts, “Except that looks type-written.” Yes. It certainly does. Next up, Lupton departs the speeding train against his will. Palmer, finally buckling down to something, levels with his wife about his so-called all-night casting calls then leads a police detective to the money's suspected location. 

Palmer initiates a long—can it only be seven minutes?—foot chase to capture Platt and his money-filled duffel bag through a rail yard in which the director never threw away any footage during editing. If it were an actual chase, both men would have been exhausted in the first minute. But filming scenes can do wonders for your stamina. Just when you think Platt will be pounced on, he escapes—his cane becomes a force to reckon with—under or over rail cars or climbing up boxcar ladders. Reset. Platt is spotted then disappears again. Reset. They each sprint through a locomotive shop completely unnoticed. Reset. Palmer finally gets hands-on with Platt as the chase finally comes to...no wait...a railroad employee comes to the “reverend's” defense. After beating off the employee, Palmer is back in the chase after one wily priest for an electrifying finish.

Note: In the middle of that climatic chase we witness an odd placement of deliberate humor. Three hobos silently crawl forward on all fours to peer out from their individual, triangularly stacked large sewer pipe sections, wondering what all the commotion is about. When they spot the railroad police all three pop backward inside their pipe like a turtle in its shell. A scene seemingly lifted from a silent film comedy.