HELL BOUND (1957)

This seventy-one-minute Bel-Air Production project is directed by William J. Hole, Jr., produced by Howard W. Koch, and distributed by United Artists. A Bel-Air standby, Carl E. Guthrie is the cinematographer. This crime drama has its quirks and slow sections, but it is another well-acted and filmed offering. Part of its problem is some scenes extend far too long, affecting the viewer's attention span. Editing out about ten minutes might have been wise.

Although not readily apparent at the outset, it is a small film within a larger film. As so many B-movies did during this era, a voice-over narration seems to provide the background of a coordinated robbery on a freighter entering the port with 250 grand of surplus narcotics from the 1940s. The viewer assumes the drugs have not exceeded their expiration date. Three impostors—a man rescued in open waters on a dingy, a diabetic ship's doctor, and a nurse complete the gang. It is the perfect setup and goes without a flaw as if it might result in the shortest Bel-Air movie of all time. Except that what the viewer is witnessing has never happened. Yet. This opening is the most clever twist of this film, done better nearly a decade later in Gambit (1966). As in that romantic comedy, nothing quite goes as the mastermind planned.

John Russell, with his menacing good looks, is once again a cold-blooded killer with severe anger issues. Do not be fooled by his charming countenance used for the above poster. His smile is turned upside down in this film. He is the fourth impostor in his demonstration film to entice a crooked businessman into financing the plot. His assistant slash girl is played by June Blair who has a particular knack for imposing herself on any male and sensing a good plan when she hears one. She is competent in her screen debut. Russell turns a cold shoulder to Blair's repeated “come-ons” and is especially not pleased she volunteers to be the nurse, squeezing out his girlfriend intended for the part. But the reality of people's personalities has a way of changing one's future. For this film, reality becomes a bit more confusing than the "home movie" financed by Russell.

Speaking of dragging a scene out, Russell beats a drug addict into submission in convincing fashion to force him into playing the rescued man on a dingy. Between shadows and total darkness, he is pummeled relentlessly. So this beating can come to an end, the addict agrees to the assignment. But when the heist is mid-cycle, he is so strung out for a fix he panics and never follows through. Russell pressures Stanley Adams into playing the diabetic doctor, in reality, an actual diabetic. Adams is to inject himself with insulin to put him into diabetic shock. But it is good news, bad news from his doctor. Adams' improving health means insulin injections are not currently necessary. Indeed, an injection could be fatal. The waiting ambulance is intended to take Adams and the phony nurse to the hospital. Enter Stuart Whitman, in a brief but pivotal role as an intern slash ambulance driver.

One may not be surprised the actual heist action aboard the ship looks like the very same footage from Russell's home movie—with different actors. Not to go unnoticed is at least one implausible segment with Whitman and Blair sharing ambulance runs while she, somehow, covers for her total lack of medical knowledge. They also share some milk and cookies—no kidding—in his humble apartment. And passionate kisses.

Russell is livid she wants to go legit with the sensible intern. He drops in on her later and viciously slaps her among the furniture before stabbing her, shoving the pocket knife in as far as possible. Russell becomes the useless operative in his "ideal" heist and is now hell-bound to drag out the final segments of the film. In a somewhat clever climactic scene, his demise in a scrap metal yard provides his final disappointment.

Notes: The music score by Les Baxter is a bit overkill at times as if he is not quite sure what should support a scene. Mundane scenes might be backed by bold, staccato brass, while other parts of the score nearly disappear. The talented musician was noted for providing stock music for numerous projects. Scoring a film was perhaps not his strong suit.

Better known for his many Westerns, Dehl Berti has an uncredited role as Daddy, a heroin supplier, decked out in sunglasses inside a dark strip club (above). He is interrupted by the addicted dingy “survivor” who needs another fix. Ever cool and calm, the unintentionally funny character smirks his way through clipped conversation in monotone fashion—head hardly moving. He cannot help the addict. His bazaar scene ends when the camera pivots to focus on the dancer, then to a seeing-eye dog in the wings. Perhaps I made the equally bazaar assumption that it was the canine's eyesight that allowed him to ogle the ladies.