FILM BRAKE: MR. JONES' TEMPTATIONS

 

Henry Jones (1912-1999) could usually be identified before looking up at the screen by his unique vocal groan-whine nasal delivery—ghrining—when lacking commitment or just ornery. The Philadelphia native was an accomplished actor of stage, film and television but the ordinary-looking 5' 10" Jones was initially a casting challenge—directors not knowing what to do with him. That quickly changed, being cast in more than 180 performances in film and television roles, the latter being where it was most frequently seen.

Jones possessed considerable stage experience—though a sporadic start in 1931. By 1938 he made his Broadway debut in Maurice Evans' Hamlet. Nearly a decade later, between film and television appearances, he gained notice for originating the role of the suspicious handyman, Leroy Jessup, in The Bad Seed, with a flaming end to his character for the 1956 Mervyn LeRoy version. Other theater credits included The Solid Gold Cadillac, with Sunrise at Campobello winning him the Tony Award for Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Play. His last Broadway role was in Advise and Consent in 1960-61.

His wide range of second-string movie roles cast him often as a philanderer, minister, judge, banker or sly mayor. He shined in comedic support roles where his talent for angst or temptation could be put to good use in such outings as Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?, Support Your Local Sheriff (and the sequel) Dirty Dingus Magee or 9 to 5. But it was not all laughs. He often portrayed unscrupulous characters or ones with a dark side. None more so than the methodically cruel coroner in Vertigo (1958). However, Jones was most consistently visible on television where he was in constant demand through the mid-1990s.

Capturing Jones' craft first-hand is perhaps best displayed in five leading roles on Alfred Hitchcock Presents (AHP). Jones was one of Hitchcock's favorites, accounting for his five appearances on the series (above). They best define his acting nuances where temptation gets the best of him, knowing full well it is the wrong thing to do—the very definition of temptation. His first episode, “”De Mortuis” (1956), casts Jones with fishing buddies, Philip Coolidge and a Professor, Robert Emhardt. Any one of which could hold an episode together despite a worn script. But the Professor cannot be found at home though they suspect he will be along shortly. To kill some time, their conversation turns to Emhardt's younger, attractive wife whose reputation for “fooling around” is no secret. In fact, each has stories to tell. Jones is particularly tempted by his encounter with her. A clatter leads them to discover Emhardt was in his basement all along. The fresh cement section about the same length as your average coffin gets them wondering—basement entombment being somewhat a habit for AHP during this period. His second appearance, entitled “Nightmare in 4-D” (1957) is a dark comedy casting Jones as a married man with constant nightmares from reading too much pulp fiction. In reality, he gets wrapped up with a coy Barbara Baxley and her corpse lying on the floor of her apartment. There is plenty of “ghrining” as Jones reluctantly helps remove the “icky” body in the middle of the night simply as a favor. Both performers are amusing. Unfortunately, his straightforwardness becomes his next nightmare. Next has Jones as a master taxidermist in, “The West Warlock Time Capsule” (1957), whose cleverness in removing a cruel freeloader seems to be foolproof. For the futuristic episode, “The Blessington Method” (1959), Jones plays an executive who meets with an "insurance" agent of sorts, with a "Dr. Kevorkian" twist. Jones is appropriately wary yet, once again, tempted. His quintessential character finishes his final episode, “Profit-Sharing Plan” (1962). Temptation raises its head during Jone's office retirement party—with a thankless pen and pencil set for twenty year's service. His unscrupulous plan is thwarted at the last minute in an unanticipated twisted ending. Jones also did one Alfred Hitchcock Hour episode, “The World's Oldest Motive” (1965). Jones plays a philanderer with murder on his mind. An ironic ending ensures.

One would think Jones might have frequented The Twilight Zone, but his single appearance was in the silly 1960 episode, “Mr. Bevis.” Jones—a persuasive guardian angel—rescues the title character, Orson Bean, from his oddball lifestyle as well as Bean's lackadaisical performance. Jones had a regular role on the drama Channing, then three decades of appearances running the gamut from The Man from U.N.C.L.E. to The Mary Tyler Moore Show and its spin-off, Phillis. Jones joined that cast as her cantankerous, droning father-in-law, Judge Jonathan Dexter. His final recurring roles were on Falcon Crest from 1986-87 and in a series without any traction, I Married Dora (1987-88).

KISS ME [atypically] DEADLY (1955)

This one-hundred-six-minute cult classic based on Mickey Spillane's salacious book of the same name is hardly unknown in the Twenty-First Century. What is definitively unknown are my opinions about some strangeness or implausibilities in this late-blooming film noir produced and directed by Robert Aldrich for Parklane Pictures and distributed by United Artists. I take note of numerous atypical elements that set this film apart from earlier film noirs. Years of hindsight have solidified this film's cult status and enshrined Ralph Meeker in the Hollywood history books. The measured score was composed by the versatile Frank De Vol, a four-time Oscar nominee with thirty-six comedy acting roles in his future, mostly in television. The film has become one of the most interesting and unusually imaginative film noirs.

This film's atypical opening involves quirky Cloris Leachman frantically running— appearing to be barefoot—in the middle of a road at night. Meeker/Mike Hammer nearly runs her down with his Jaguar XK120. The captivating opening screenplay by A. I. Bezzerides may give the impression that you just parachuted in. The studio cameras attached to Meeker's cars add realism to the film. No cheap studio prop cars in this one. As one would expect, she is exhausted. Questionably strange, however, is that she continues to heave and moan miles later as his passenger. One would think the director would have stepped in to suggest something else for Leachman to do at this point. It is unnecessarily extended or at least annoying. On a more positive note, first-time viewers were probably eager to know what happens next in this slow-burning journey. Cinematographer Ernest Laszlo should be noted for his lighting, and his Los Angeles location shooting may be interesting to those who grew up or still live there. He and Aldrich seemed to have had an understanding and would work together frequently. 

Not many Los Angeles private detectives have the wherewithal to be choosy about the car they drive. And it usually is not a Jaguar. Atypical. His home is built around a cutting-edge reel-to-reel answering machine embedded in his wall. Atypical. He employs an invaluable secretary slash undercover manipulator, Maxine Cooper. The report by the Kefauver Commission, in strongly-worded comments, said this film was not fit for families to view. The initial intimate embrace between the two leads may have made a few mid-century patrons uncomfortable, with the scene [perhaps] comprising one of the commission's middle paragraphs. Another paragraph may have addressed the atypical Gaby Rodgers—the most quirky female in the film and Leachman's roommate—Quirky 2.0. She, too, is barefoot in her opening scenes with a vocal delivery indicating she may be under some sort of influence. Rodgers' short blonde hair seems to fit the era's formula of a sociopath—the bleached hair of psychos like Raymond Burr, Skip Homeier, or Corey Allen comes to mind.

Adding to the lead cast are supporting roles for Wesley Addy, whose condescending, sarcastic delivery is always spot-on—here as a police lieutenant who knows how to keep a secret—and perennial bad guys, the two Jacks, Elam and Lambert. These two earn respect after Meeker's assumed martial arts training, effortlessly off-screen, debilitates Lambert. Atypical. As if Meeker has supernatural powers. Elam is visibly shaken by what he witnessed. Their mob boss, Paul Stewart, has a brief screen appearance but will not go unnoticed. The deviously smiling gangster and Meeker never resolve their trust issues. But with no hard feelings, Stewart leaves a newly introduced Chevrolet Corvette outside his home. He only sprung for two accessories—bombs wired to double Meeker's chances of exploding. The mustachioed Nick Dennis plays the experienced Italian auto mechanic frequented by Meeker, with an enduring phrase, “Va-Va-Voom,” when referring to fast cars or beautiful girls. After “disarming” the Corvette, it becomes Meeker's new ride of choice. It is atypical to spotlight this car in a feature film. The sound department has taken liberties with the Corvette's six-cylinder standard exhaust note. Maybe suggesting Dennis had something to do with that.

Rodgers is reunited with her superior, Albert Dekker, who warns her to never open “The Box.” It sets up the bazaar and chilling twist that utilizes a horrifying sound effect like mankind's screams from hell when she opens the box. Most atypical. Meeker and Cooper escape the beach house's “atomic” fireball—sans a mushroom cloud—capping an implausible ending as they reach safety in the shore's knee-deep water. Mid-century moviegoers—tossed between bewilderment and fright—may not have been able to describe the film to a friend except to say they had not seen anything quite like it before.

Note: The mystery box, so tempting to Rodgers, contained an atom that had excess nuclear energy of a highly unstable Radionuclide. Its degree of harm would depend on the nature and extent of the radiation produced and the amount and nature of exposure. However, with suitable properties, radionuclides are today used in nuclear medicine for both diagnosis and treatment. The film alludes to it only as atomic, equating it to the currently trendy atomic bomb fear in numerous movies.

WIRETAPPER (1955)

 

Inspired by actual events, this eighty-minute crime biopic highlights the life of an extraordinary Army communications expert, Jim Vaus Jr. The film begins near the end of World War II and ends four years later. His four-year prison sentence for the theft of government electronic equipment is terminated with the war's end. As a citizen, he used his technical skills to install surveillance devices for the LAPD and Mickey Cohen’s syndicate, including a rigged parimutuel betting system invented by Vaus. Off-track betting was illegal back then.

Directed by Dick Ross, with a well-paced screenplay by John O'Dea based on Vaus' autobiography, Why I Quit Syndicated Crime, it was produced by World Wide Pictures, founded in 1951 by the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, and is, essentially, accurate storytelling. Nothing out of the ordinary in cinematography nor for a ubiquitous score composed by Ralph Carmichael, who would set the groundwork in contemporary Christian music during the next decade. His score for the horse-racing segments would better fit the opening of a collegiate football game broadcast.

The film is respectably acted, though no Golden Globe nominations were announced. Here, I use the Vaus name and not the actor who portrays him, Bill Williams. A "criminal casting call" was sent out to snag the usual suspects. B-movie regulars Douglas Kennedy joins the male lead ranks as a wealthy attorney with deep pockets into the mob, specifically Eric Roman, after a Cohen fashion. Paul Picerni is once again in the fold. Even Stanley "Bowery Boy" Clements works his way into the ranks. The least-known, Georgia Lee, as Vaus's wife, is the weaker acting link.  

Though Vaus is released early from prison, it results in a demotion from Captain to Private. His deception begins with letters of lies to his future bride about his combat service. Before arriving home, he buys retired service medals from a pawn shop to pin to his uniform. He is embarrassed by this decision. Soon running his own electronics business with a hit-and-miss profit, his services are requested at the home of Kennedy. While there, he is asked to also fix a lowly doorbell. Vaus accidentally discovers someone has planted a hidden mic in the attorney's home, and receives a “Franklin” to find out who. Vaus's easy money is suspiciously on the rise while his new marriage begins a rapid descent. Roman slides into the picture, placing Vaus under his thumb. During a "mobster roundtable," someone suggests that Vaus rig the track betting so they know the race winner before the results are posted. His wife's pleading starts to sink in, and he wants out of the syndicate; with this financial killing, it would set him up for life. Unknown to Roman or Kennedy, he partners with Clements. This is totally a bad idea. Clements never makes it to the finish line and is gunned down as soon as the gate drops. Even more disheartening is that Vaus is not present for the birth of his child. Another empty promise. 

Vaus is apprehended, knocked around a bit, and Kennedy gives him an ultimatum: one final job in St. Louis. Vaus drives his wife to the safety of her mother's home, where her young daughter awaits. Before his trip to Missouri with the "mobsy twins," Lee spots the Graham revival tent and is led to stop. He is reluctant. Bible passages and Graham's poignant words seem to be directed specifically toward Vaus. He tells his wife it is time to face the [Carmichael] music. At life's turning point, he is spiritually guided to accept Christ into his life, wiping away his criminal burdens to begin a new life. Mustering the courage to face Kennedy and Roman, he refuses to go with them and attempts to explain why. Roman is not convinced and pulls out a revolver where his wallet should be. It would be a tense final scene if you did not know Vaus devotes the rest of his life to Christian ministry. Sans bullet holes.

Note: Vaus went on to tour the country as an inspirational Christian speaker and started a youth ministry. Not comprehending the legitimate change in his life, the moment will likely seem a fantasy. The actual eight-week-long Los Angeles Crusade under a huge tent took place in 1949. During a later crusade, the viewer witnesses a high-energy Billy Graham in this film. The passionate young Graham may appear to be the clichéd “condemning preacher,” but he does not condemn nor judge. He simply understands the realities of eternity as addressed throughout the Bible.