August 2, 2021

BLUEPRINT FOR ROBBERY (1961)

Jerry Hopper directed a couple of notable films including The Atomic City, Naked Alibi, and one notable for not being any better than the original, Never Say Goodbye. His talents were better served for the smaller medium where he kept very, very busy. Sandwiched in between his work on many popular shows was this film, a low-budget crime film where the heist's dry run to test the theft's feasibility is tediously slow. Seeing the British-born senior, J. Pat O'Malley—the film's legendary thief—scooting under electronic sensors on his stomach or back confirms this. Yet the film's focus on this tension is fairly captivating and the music score by Van Cleave pays off throughout the film. The acting is first-rate and I imagine the film garnered some talk over hot dogs after its premiere. In hindsight, this film remains unknown because of all the myriad of more exciting heist movies to follow. But those films owe a lot to this film—what with its smattering of humor and detailed-to-the-minute robbery plans. The robber's masks are creepy if not startling and the robbery goes without a hitch. But the aftermath proves crime—during this era—does not pay.

There are no big-name film stars in this one as if Hopper flipped through his Rolodex for some of his television connections. O'Malley is perhaps the most well-known for his numerous television roles. In-kind, many Boomers would recognize Robert Wilke. What they may not recognize is that he is not a despicable Western outlaw, but a detective. Robert Gist, a frequent player in television westerns as well—particularly Have Gun - Will Travel—adds the only spark to the film outside Jay Barney. Barney spent an innocuous career on the tube. Another key player in the big heist is television actor, the furrow-browed Sherwood Price. Finishing out the television casting call is Robert Carricart, Joe Conley—later snagging a recurring role as Ike on The Waltons—and Henry Corden, more often than not in sitcoms with his trademark black, thick-framed glasses. Unseen, he carried on the voice of Fred Flintstone after Allen Reed's death. 

There is a brief humorous spot for television's future “Mrs. Cunningham,” Marion Ross (below), which initiates a bit of levity early in the film. Barney comes to the prison dressed as a priest simply to convince O'Malley—scheduled for release—to help in the robbery. Ross sets down beside him—both staring straight ahead—and she slowly inches closer as she tearfully confides in the man underneath the rental cloth about her marital “faux-pax” before visiting her incarcerated husband. Father Barney, taken aback, calmly musters up his best advice which she takes to heart. Overhearing his assumed heartfelt consultation, the guard also puts his faith in the cloth on the man and unlocks the main door to the cells.

Counting up their tally after the getaway, they stole far less than anticipated with some useless bonds and newly printed marked bills which simply have to be burned. So be it. With Gist's nerves at bay and the loot under his watch, he suggests Barney and Price lay low by taking a vacation. It is the turning point in the film. Not using his brain's full potential, Price decides to go into a sporting goods store after Barney tells him to stay in the car. He selects some fishing and hunting gear with no intention of paying. The greedy crook knocks out the salesman and heads back to the car as a policeman happens by and tries to convince the two about a great spot for camping. Out crawls the moaning salesman. The vacation (below) ends behind bars though being only an accessory, Barney would seem to be railroaded. Gist is unconcerned as he had figured they would be out in a few months, not the three-year sentence handed down.

O'Malley rents a clerical robe to visit Barney. The scene follows through with an earlier established premise, that the old mentor and the “son he never had” confide in each other. The old codger is soon questioned about his parole violation and his ill-fitting clerical collar. No one will ever call him a stool pigeon and it looks like life behind bars. With good intentions, Barney does something unforgivable. Their falling out comprises the sensitive climax.

Note: The film's screenplay was written by Irwin Winehouse and A. Sanford Wolf, based on the 1950 Brinks' express office robbery in Boston. The eighty-seven-minute film was produced by Bryan Foy with Paramount Pictures releasing this film with opening and closing “exposĂ©” narration. 

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