T-BIRD GANG (1959)

At sixty-five minutes, most will be able to sit through this one if you ignore the low production quality, obvious budget constraints and an artificial gang leader that stretches the gullibility of the viewer. I do not suggest it is going to be easy, however. The main cast does not embarrass themselves despite the area microphone echo in certain scenes. If one misses the opening credits it is still likely many will readily guess this is another production by Roger Corman. Less successful would be guessing it was distributed by Sparta Productions. Using its original title, Cry Out in Vengeance, it was a double feature with High School Big Shot (my post of October 20, 2018) and the first release of Corman’s company, The Filmgroup. At times, the overpowering, Corman trademark jazz combo soundtrack of solo drums, trumpet, or piano can be distracting. The film does have a fairly decent screenplay, co-written by star John Brinkley and co-star Tony Miller. This is one of five Corman pictures for television regular, Ed Nelson. He honed his craft churning out nearly twenty-two low-budget films. Lobby posters apparently never showcased the 1957 T-Bird from the film, choosing to use a current-generation model. For whatever reason, Nelson is MIA in these promo shots (see below). For automobile accuracy, I created a revised poster to start this review.

The opening scene sets the tone of this rickety film with meandering bongo drums as the camera moves in on Nelson's T-Bird and his right-hand henchman Tony Miller. Nelson snaps his fingers and Miller provides him a smoke. From a safe distance, they await the outcome of a warehouse burglary in which things do not go as Nelson planned. Seemingly an expert in the misdemeanor crimes of household and warehouse burglaries, Nelson is technically only an accessory to murder. Top-billed Brinkley arrives at the warehouse to find his father, the night watchman, murdered, however. Later in a bar, Nelson sees Brinkley defend himself in a fistfight with a troublemaker and invites him to join his gang. The police captain coaxes Brinkley to go undercover to help flesh out Nelson's gang who they figure is responsible for the murder.

Nelson is the cool gang leader whose ego is stroked by being a chess player, bossing twenty-something “high schoolers” around by snapping his fingers and relaxing to classical music. With an air of superiority, good looks, and wearing driving gloves or the occasional ascot, he exudes big-shot qualities. His girlfriend, Pat George, in her film debut and career closer, is treated like an airhead by Nelson, but she usually beats him at chess when she is not devouring a series of good books. He angrily switches to poker to improve his winning chances. She is also easily amused and her unbridled laughter annoys him. As it did me. At one point “Mr. Warmth” purposely knocks over a glass of milk onto her new coat so she has to leave the room. A real sweetheart.

For all his assumed bravado, Nelson's low mileage status symbol and security blanket is his beloved two-year-old Thunderbird, cowardly staying in the driver’s seat during capers. The gang's next warehouse caper also goes awry—in part due to an awkward score—Nah. Brinkley tipped off the police. A security guard is knocked unconscious by being punched in the kidneys. The most amazing—the only—special effect in the film. "Mr. T-Bird" realizes he has been set up and takes the undercover rat to a closed tavern. He will need a new town of teenagers after this blown caper. He lets it slip that his second-hand man doing his dirty work, Miller, can easily be replaced. Unaware Miller overheard the discouraging words, he repeatedly beats Nelson with a pool cue then spears him with its blunt end. Somehow. Scratch one gang leader. An empty tavern can be drafty as the pool cue slightly sways back and forth in Nelson's “stomach” in the closing seconds.

Note: As a testament to a low-budget Corman film, there are a few awkward or funny moments in addition to those mentioned earlier. A solo trumpet nearly kills a tender moment between Brinkley and his girl. The trumpet is about as subtle as Doris Day wearing an eye patch. Later in dazed conversation, he twists strands of her hair into a 4” long rope. Not by request. But the topper is Nelson’s hilarious one-ding doorbell in his modest studio set. It is exactly the sound of ending another boxing round.