FORGOTTEN FILMS: TV TRANSITION

Though typically overshadowed by Hollywood's A-list, there were respectable performances by numerous actors and actresses who never became major film stars. A common career shift was to the new medium of television. These periodic posts offer insight into their transition.

Rudolpho Acosta Pérez (1920–1974)

Though born in a small disputed area in Mexico with Texas, the section of land became American soil and character actor, Rudolpho Acosta, officially became an American citizen. He delivered dialogue with conviction, whether being charming or pointedly ruthless, and it was best put to use on the small screen. But with his strong facial features, he achieved his greatest success primarily as a Mexican bandit, Indian warrior or outlaw in western films in the US. There were numerous Spanish language films to his early credits—famously as a romantic idol—along with some English language films in the early Fifties. His first credited American role was in One Way Street, 1950, then a minor role in the forgettable The Bullfighter and The Lady, 1951, starring the “logical” choice for a Matador, Robert Stack. He was among the cast for Jeff Chandler’s Yankee Buccaneer, 1952. Acosta never let a casting call go unanswered during this period.

Acosta was soon seen on the Warner Brothers lot for Sugarfoot, Bronco and Maverick. His three indelible performances on Cheyenne, 1958-61, are of particular note for inhabiting his characters so authentically. During the same time frame there was Disney's Zorro and CBS's Have Gun – Will Travel. He was given two roles in the modern-day setting of The Sheriff of Cochise/U.S. Marshal series, 1956 and 1959. Sprinkled among the Westerns were roles on The Farmer’s Daughter, 1964, The Man from U.N.C.L.E., 1965 and The Fugitive, 1966. Acosta did not get a recurring role until the first two seasons of The High Chaparral, 1967. His tenure was short—being dropped from the series—unfortunately due to his abuse of alcohol consumption. 

He finished his career guest-starring in Cade’s County in 1971, a one-season hope that Glenn Ford might generate an audience. He worked again with David Janssen on his next series, O’Hara, U.S. Treasury, 1971, and again with Richard Boone in his final series, Hec Ramsey, 1972. His final roles were his two appearances on Ironside, 1971 and 1973, as a police chief and police sergeant. But who knew? He was nearly invisible throughout his career as a supporting player. Acosta never left Spanish language films entirely, but American television benefited his career most as his characters became more intimate with the viewer. I cannot attest to his Mexican films, but he excelled in his mature years in America. Acosta died young at fifty-four of liver cancer.

SECRET SERVICE INVESTIGATOR (1948)

Directed by R. G. Springsteen and released by Republic Pictures, this sixty-minute American crime film possesses a twisty screenplay and story by John K. Butler with some concise dialogue and a few quips for the star, Lloyd Bridges, to deliver to Lynne Roberts, who works in the classified advertising department of a local newspaper. Discovering who he is—a World War II hero in the Army Air Force—she gushes over him. With every compliment Bridges' chest gets puffier. But his assumptions are just that. She will be thrilled to tell her young son that she met his hero. Ouch! This fast-paced outing gives Bridges one of his earliest lead roles and he is fine with a coolness, a winning smile, and a commanding voice. He will have another connection with the Secret Service one year later for his film, Trapped, playing a counterfeiter released from prison to help—reluctantly—the Secret Service trap counterfeiters.

Bridges needs work. He cannot believe his good luck when Roberts shows him an ad requesting his service. The lead takes him to an apartment where two await his arrival. Trevor Bardette and Roy Barcroft introduce themselves, respectively, as an inspector and detective with the Secret Service. They also introduce Bridges to an unconscious man lying on a bed. He is startled to see that he and the man look more than similar. Bridges also plays the Dan Redfern character. The Secret Service wants Bridges to pose as Redfern to help them retrieve counterfeit plates from evil, condescending, George Zucco. The movie takes a twisty route as Bridges is spotted on the train by Redfern's wife, June Storey, and her brother, perennial bad guy, John Kellogg. Storey's amorous reuniting with her husband quickly goes cold because Bridge's hair color is different. More than that, he is not missing a thumb. Bridges is suddenly all thumbs and is knocked unconscious with brother and sister taking the plates.

Once back in San Francisco, Bridges discovers Redfern is no longer among the living. The real Secret Service agents arrest Bridges and his story is so involved the Inspector believes no one could make it up. Throughout the film, Bridges is the most honest guy in any room. He calmly tells everyone the truth and it pays off. Sort of. He is asked to be an actual Secret Service Investigator and continue his charade as the dead Redfern. The plates change hands more than once until Zucco identifies them as fake. The double-crossing gangs of Zucco and Bardette are at odds. An intense fistfight between Bridges and Bardette seems to go on forever in the exciting, slightly convoluted, climax. Shots ring out, shortening the future of at least two. After the gunpowder dissipates, Bridges and Roberts start planning their wedding.

Note: Bridges was churning out film after film in supporting roles before leading man status. He was about as busy as anyone in Hollywood in the 1940s. He made up for any lack of matinee idol looks with loads of charisma. His career began to accelerate by 1950 with The Sound of Fury. Bridges became a household name for US television viewers and, joining some peers, 1980's "Airplane!" helped redefine his long career.

STEP DOWN TO TERROR (1958)

Bicycling is a joy for most youngsters. The freedom to roam outdoors is inherent and often enhanced as an adult with the added adventure of touring. As with any transportation choice, however, there is a risk of serious injury. Just ask the main character, played by Charles Drake. His childhood head injury from being hit while riding his bike scrambles his brain, eventually resulting in a dual personality with uncontrollable behavior. The thought-provoking title of this seventy-six-minute film is subtly illustrated underneath the opening credits. 

This American crime film is directed by Harry Keller and produced by Joseph Gershenson for Universal-International Pictures. It was written by Mel Dinelli with input from Czenzi Ormonde and Sy Gomberg. I find no credits for the music score so assume it is from Universal's stock library. But the opening is powerfully ominous and at least deserves a mention. Besides Drake, the film stars Colleen Miller in one of her more visible roles, and a relative newcomer to the big screen, Rod Taylor. Everyone is first-rate in this rather overstuffed story. 

It is no surprise from Drake's opening caustic verbal attack on his landlord that he has a problem—an underlying anger much deeper than just being irate about his landlord for popping in unexpectedly. However, he is all smiles in a phone booth when next we see him, suggesting a highly-respected, sweetheart of a guy coming home to visit mother, and his sister-in-law Miller, and her seven-year-old son. When a family member disappears without a trace for six years, it would seem to arouse some sort of suspicion. But the unassuming relatives are ecstatic to have him home. The script throws suspicion his way in due course, perhaps subconsciously hoping his mental nightmare will finally come to an end once and for all. Drake embodies a psychotic in subtle fashion despite his handsome winning smile and straight-arrow appearance.

Drake gifts Miller with an expensive ring engraved with initials of no familial connection. Another lie appears to explain it. His heinous life starts to unravel—loosened by guilt—and he is helpless to stop it. Taylor, two years away from fame as H.G. Wells, is a lead policeman on the trail of the philanderer. Miller first finds his revelations preposterous until he tells the origins of the ring's bogus engraving. It leads to a serious falling out with her brother-in-law. This first remake of the Hitchcock classic, Shadow of a Doubt, is not on the same dark and creepy level. Drake is “Uncle Charlie” only to his nephew who has nothing to fear from him, being overly protective of the boy's safety on his bicycle.

The inane climax is the film's weakest element—ironically involving a bicycle. Drake avoids hitting the Schwinn with a slow speed turn—sped up to a humorous Herman Munster level—with his DeSoto convertible—windshield flattened—ending up completely upside down in tall grass. As if positioned there by a crane hired by the studio. Hmm. Miller absorbs her family's dark secret at the hush-hush funeral. Perhaps a commissioned statue in honor of the town's "ideal" native son. 

RAIDERS FROM BENEATH THE SEA (1964)

No, this is not a science fiction horror film, though horrific may describe it. The music by Hank Levine is the anchor of the film, sending it beneath the sea immediately signifying the next seventy-three minutes may be better spent elsewhere. The music is often substituted for dialogue which makes it hard to decide the lesser of the two evils. Coupling with the other disjointed cues is the guitar-dominated music ala The Ventures. This is neither a beach party film. There is even a drum solo for whenever a 1964 Chrysler appears. Very strange. More than likely the only leitmotif written for an automobile. The character with a weak heart has his own theme when having an attack—a fake theremin sound. Though not the worst film of the mid-Sixties, the problem lies with the directing and producing by Maury Dexter, as he capitalizes on the essence of strangulated budgets. The production company for this "dead fish" crime film is Lippert Pictures. Harry Spalding provided a screenplay that limits the audience's ability to invest in the characters. Twentieth Century Fox did most of the investing.

The very tall Ken Scott has the cardboard lead. His wife is played by the very short, curvy corrugated Merry Anders. He is the landlord of some Catalina apartment houses. His younger brother lives in the same apartment house and helps with maintenance if he is not drunk or peeping Anders while she is soaking up the sun. It defines his character and he is half responsible for the obligatory sultry saxophone.

Scott has big plans for a heist of a million dollars—speaking of obligatory—from a Catalina bank. One may note some brief dialogue pauses giving the impression some actors have just requested, “Line, please.” Scott and his former pal, Russ Bender—the guy with the theremin heart—approach the bank in scuba gear like creatures from beneath something. They casually escape by walking hilariously down the street to the beach. Neither whistling a random tune. A policeman stops them for not obeying city ordinances about scuba gear, oxygen tanks, and flippers anywhere near pavement. One cannot see their red faces from his chastisement. 

Two other accomplices assist in the getaway boat. Scott is supposed to attach the money bag to a hook dropped from the boat by his brother but the retrieval line gets snagged on his scuba suit and is pulled up into the propeller. That is kind of a cool effect and—more importantly—signals the film's end is near. Anders' facial reactions suggesting she is watching Scott's underwater demise are unconvincing. Feeling her best effort to work up a tear has passed, she walks away from the camera.

Note: Outside of the "stage acting" of the five leads, the misplaced music cues are certainly glaring and a favorite target for criticism. The opening music sounds to be lifted directly from the 1962 hit song, "More," the title theme to the odd, Italian travelogue vignettes for the film "Mondo Cane." The opening bars simply invert a note or two. Kai Winding, the Danish-born American trombonist and jazz composer arranged his own chart hit for the song in 1963. His unique use of the French electronic music instrument, the Ondioline, is echoed in this film's use of the more common Hammond organ.