FOREIGN INTRIGUE (1956)

Directed and produced by Sheldon Reynolds for Sheldon Reynolds Productions but not starring Sheldon Reynolds, this mystery was a box office success for United Artists in spite of an involved, twisty plot and some confusing characters known by name only. Reynolds’ one-sheet resumé includes his producing the television show of the same name at the same time. He was quite repetitive. American audiences were familiar with the star of this slightly long, one-hundred-minute film but not so much the co-stars. Introduced are Geneviève Page as Dominique and the blonde Ingrid Thulin as Brita. An intriguing character of amusing danger is played by Frederick O'Brady as Spring. Except for the lone American, Robert Mitchum, I have referred to the cast members by their character names. The slow-burn plot is not short on intrigue. Enjoy the beautiful camera work with lavish interiors and cinematic outdoor locations. But an unresolved ending may make one throw the remains of that bowl of popcorn at the screen, however.

The classically-inspired piano solo composition entitled, “The Foreign Intrigue Concerto” by Charles Norman, opens the film as Victor Danemore returns to his mansion after surveying his flower garden. At the same time, along the French Riviera, Mitchum enters the film to purchase Danemore’s airline tickets. An inquisitive and eavesdropping tourist, knowing something of the wealthy Danemore, questions Mitchum before he can drive back to the mansion. His exit is in a sleek 1949 Delahaye 135 Cabriolet Chapron accompanied by a frivolity of strings. Paul Durand’s music is never quite right as Mitchum traverses a beautiful high stone arch bridge in a distant shot—foreshadowing the likes of some early James Bond movies—the music here is a vivid mismatch of scene and score as soft flutes take over, setting entirely the wrong mood. The music is better suited for Mitchum net-hunting butterflies in a field. Visually, that would be intriguing.

Mitchum enters the mansion—chest first—to find Danemore on the floor in a position that would be uncomfortable for someone alive. He informs Danemore’s young wife, Dominique, who is not exactly grief-stricken. All the viewer knows at this point is Mitchum was hired a few years back to write a glowing account of Danemore’s past life. Glowing but fabricated. Not until near the halfway point, does one learn that Mitchum is a reporter. But he cannot get any straight answers on how he obtained his wealth. The intrigue gets underway in a complicated intertwining of tales and characters. Mitchum is particularly perplexed by the shadowing of the bald-headed Mr. Spring. Throughout the movie, Mitchum seems so relaxed he probably suspects what is around the next corner. On the contrary, he is flummoxed at every turn. His most frustrating mystery is why so many want to know if Danemore said anything before he died. Sometime after the funeral, in all her feigned sweetness, Dominique pays Danemore's estate representative a visit to request a sealed document. But she permitted only to verify that it is sealed. He opens the safe and the screen fades to black. For a second I thought I passed out. Mitchum stumbles upon another dead body. 

In an effort to unravel the two recent deaths, he sets off for Stockholm to meet a man associated with Danemore. Unfortunately, the man is no longer living. His daughter, Brita, is there to greet Mitchum. Whenever these two are together, Durand’s score erupts with more strings in a bouncy, slightly baroque repetitious ditty. The American is quite smitten with her playfulness. Brita suggests her mother may be able to shed some light on her late husband's connection yet Mitchum hits another brick wall.

Spring returns as the self-invited guest in Mitchum's hotel room. They share some sarcastic banter while Mitchum shaves. Nonchalantly, Spring informs him of his orders to kill him for that visit to Stockholm. He slowly lifts a small handgun but Mitchum knocks the gun from his hand with a towel and an uppercut decks him. After he awakes, Spring rubs his jaw in total puzzlement as to why he was punched so hard since they are good friends. It is back to Vienna for Mitchum who is met in secret by the opening's inquisitive “tourist” who is actually an agent with the Swiss Counter Intelligence. Mitchum quickly finds himself with the agent and four foreign officials in a dark, stone room and a warm fireplace. Mitchum is finally enlightened of Danemore’s past and they request he proceed with his prearranged night meeting with Spring. These national representatives provide an unexpected clever twist a bit later.

Unaware of Spring's appointment and conveniently hidden from his view, Dominique (above) approaches Mitchum at gunpoint with a partnership proposal or else. Those foreign officials are not far behind and arrest her. One should thank Bertil Palmgren for his excellent cinematography during these climactic scenes. The dark shadows cast by village archways and rich colors add the most intrigue to this film. The tension mounts with Durand’s two tones from a woodblock percussion instrument—a similar effect of water dripping in a drain pipe.

Note: When Dominique pays a condescending visit to Brita and her mother, it is an editing whiplash of sorts. As the mother appears to further elaborate on her husband, the scene abruptly changes to Mitchum looking through Spring’s suitcase. A few words with Spring and we are suddenly back to the three ladies as Dominique blabs on about Mitchum romancing Brita only to get the truth on Danemore and blackmail her with that truth. Then it is back to Mitchum and Spring. Then back to the ladies as Dominique leaves the premises with a threat. It all reminds me of many of today’s television crime dramas where they incorporate the assumed attention span of a gnat into the story.