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 tuna" 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, softly corrugated Merry Anders. He is the landlord of some Catalina apartment houses. His younger brother lives in the same apartment house and helps out 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. 

The other two 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.