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 emblazoned 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.
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 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-burn journey which ends outrageously
like a science-fiction horror film. 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 as 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.
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 the disturbing ending.
Note:
The mystery box so tempting to Rodgers contained an atom that has
excess nuclear energy of 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, Radionuclide is today used in nuclear medicine for both
diagnosis and treatment. The film eludes to it only as atomic,
equating it to the atomic bombs that ended World War II.
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