THREE BLONDES IN HIS LIFE (1961)

This apparent single Golden Film Production—this poster is golden—surely struggled at the box office on its second weekend. The score is composed and conducted by Andre Brummer and His Dectet. A jazzy opening title song, written by him and Francis Turner, is performed by The Russo Brothers, giving an impression this is a lighthearted comedy. Tony Randall is not in this movie. Perhaps a fair warning the film should not be taken too seriously. Though overlong at eighty-six minutes, it seems longer.

Famous stuntman, Jock Mahoney, plays an insurance investigator, aka a private detective, who is hired to find out what happened to his company's missing operative in Los Angeles. This is his film, and he adds stability to the production. An airline ticket awaits from New York to Los Angeles aboard an American Airlines 707 Astrojet in classic red-orange lightning bolt livery: black and white film does not do it justice. According to his inner thought voice-overs, the only thing on the investigator's mind is the women he has encountered throughout his travels. Handsome Mahoney goes by the name of Duke. Of course. He is not easily ruffled with the confidence and swagger to take on anything or anyone. He dominates any room he is in. He joins forces with his Los Angeles contact, apple-addicted Jesse White. He is always eating or offering one. By the same token, we learn Mahoney's favorite alcoholic drink, either ordering one or being offered one. There is good chemistry between them, and White's distinct delivery and expressions help a very talkative script. Mahoney has been given the authority to fire White for his incompetence, yet he is still on the job by the film's end.

White picks up Mahoney at the airport in a convertible, which becomes one of the most faked, budget-strained prop cars I have seen in a film. No suggested car, windshield frame, or dashboard. Just two guys sitting in front of a camera with a steering wheel in front of rear-projected highway traffic. While “traveling” on a 4-lane freeway at speed—in between the obligatory horn honks—listen closely for the sparrows chirping as if the two were sitting in a quiet city park. 

There is so much explanatory dialogue by screenwriter and director Leon Chooluck that your auditory senses may shut down completely. Time is spent filming the principal cast members reading lengthy accident reports related to the case. Unless you are taking dictation, you may not keep things straight. Three blondes were involved with the missing investigator. When his cold body turns up, it becomes a murder case. Mahoney's first blonde interview, Elaine Edwards, the wife of the murdered detective, provides a backstory of major proportions. He is only able to stay awake because of her seduction attempts, yet she is "distraught" over her husband's recent demise. His second encounter, Valerie Porter, seems to have borrowed the same script. The silliest by far is Greta Thyssen (below) in an ostentatious, fire-retardant wig. The other identifying trademark is the use of Hollywood's stereotypical sultry saxophone every time she appears. She has a lot of “something more comfortable” to slip into with strategically placed mirrors in her bedroom.

Mahoney and White investigate the mountain cabin where Edward's husband was murdered, with assistance from a drowsy old sheriff and his Jeep. Back in town, adding the first bit of excitement is Mahoney's stunt work as he is "pushed" down a stairway headfirst by actor Anthony Dexter. Their later fight scene has Mahoney knocked to the floor on his back. As Dexter approaches, Mahoney sends him halfway across the room with his legs. Dexter is soon out of his element, and his stand-in takes over. From one stuntman to another, the energetic fight is well-choreographed, and they destroy the apartment. Police are called to the scene in a 1950 Nash traveling so fast in time that it transforms into a 1956 Ford at the scene. The film ends with another “exciting” reading of the official report in an attempt to wrap up the movie. 

Note: This appears to be a television pilot movie that every network rejected. Speaking of television, this film may be the only indirect reference to the then-popular Gerald “Kookie” Kookson, III of “77 Sunset Strip” television fame. With a wry smile, Mahoney questions a young “cool cat” parking attendant if he ever watches television. The hipster's reply indicates he is familiar with the show.

DRIVE A CROOKED ROAD (1954)

This lower-budget Columbia Pictures drama succeeds thanks to its excellent cast and screenplay. A better-than-average B-movie centering around an automotive theme. The screenplay was written by Blake Edwards from a story by James Benson Nablo and adapted by Richard Quine. The eighty-three-minute film starts off in realistic fashion, hiding the plot initially with racing sequences filmed on location in California. Outside of these scenes, a studio Jaguar XK120 prop car is being hounded by rear-projected cars as an introduction to the film's star. There are cameras also at an actual automotive specialty shop, which is a real eye-ful for foreign car fans. Under echoes of the garage's concrete interior, each vehicle is lined up in its stall as its tune-up awaits. Master mechanic Mickey Rooney is one of the repair shop's best. He had left Andy Hardy in the dust with Quicksand four years earlier, also playing an auto mechanic. Rooney would use another Edwards screenplay, The Atomic Kid, the same year.

The film takes its time to establish Rooney's character, but it is never dull. The entire cast is more than competent. Rooney is first-rate as an unassuming mechanic and part-time racer of the aforementioned Jaguar. He lives and breathes automobiles, leaving little time for socializing. His dream is to race in the famous circuits in Europe. Throwing a wrench into his garage is Dianne Foster, who brings in her British Hillman, asking specifically for Rooney to work on it. The very next day, Foster again has “car trouble.” It will not start―probably expected―but this time, Rooney has to drive to her apartment building. Being the perfect gentleman, he gets her car started with only a thank you expected. She quickly gets him started, twisting him tightly around her finger. He is nervously smitten by the Amazon female. She is a woman with interior...uh...ulterior motives. 

Kevin McCarthy and Jack Kelly finish out the deceitful trio. McCarthy has been scouting local race tracks for a fast driver. They single out Rooney as their ideal chump. Like diesel fuel in sub-zero weather, the plot thickens. Witty script lines perfectly befit Kelly's condescending sarcasm, usually at Rooney's expense. McCarthy wants Rooney to drive a crooked, dangerous road in twenty minutes that would safely take forty. In mock fascination, he pumps up Rooney's ego on what it would take to do this. Accurately, he explains the different driving dynamics of a European car compared to a heavy American sedan. The lighter European models corner better, have stiffer suspension, and exude more confidence on a racing circuit. One would need to highly modify an old sedan to make it work. But Rooney is puzzled about the importance of twenty minutes. And his payment of fifteen grand just to drive. He immediately punches the emergency brake on their robbery getaway plan. 

By this stage, Foster is showing sincere remorse for towing the sweet little guy along. The trio is at McCarthy's beach house when Rooney shows up, hoping to find Foster. Something he was told not to do. Still sufficiently naive, McCarthy tells him he has not seen her. Foster enters from another room to bluntly spill her guts about her involvement, much to McCarthy's ire. Rooney knows a bit too much at this point. It is Kelly's job to eliminate him along the coastal roadway. As an excellent driver, Rooney knows how to handle sudden emergencies. He also knows how best to roll a car. Rooney survives and stumbles back about a mile to McCarthy's with Kelly's gun. The one in the poster that suggests Rooney is a hired killer or something. The ending minute leaves the story unresolved, but it does not take a certified master mechanic to figure it out.

Note: The studio prop car's “driving” sequences are pretty funny during their shortcut's dusty escape. The studio's stunt driver and sound department put on an impressive show, however. Rooney's faking of the prop car steering wheel suggests he understands and respects the car's limits. He supposedly hits 100 mph at one point with Kelly hanging on for dear life in the back seat as the rear-projected scenery shifts abruptly left to right, tires squealing in the dirt. Not as wacky as W.C. Fields' climactic driving in The Bank Dick, but nonetheless, amusing.

GANGSTER STORY (1959)

This sixty-five-minute film, released at the very end of 1959, appears to be the first leading role for Walter Matthau after near invisibility in various television episodes and supporting film roles. He was most notable in Charade (1963) during this period. It is also his directorial debut and curtain call. A low-budget cult wannabe film through which we begin to see the subtle Matthau humor that will define his career. As always, there are many unintentionally funny moments even for 1959 audiences. Alec Compinsky was the music supervisor and his use of stock background music has no relationship with the scenes. Just awful. One element the director was oblivious to. The film was produced by Swen Productions and distributed by something called the Corporation of Independent Producers. The opening with shaky filming of a bank vault and added titles in a period typeface, screams low budget. A budget that would reportedly put one into a new base mid-engined Corvette. The robbery transitions to a wet night scene and then to a local policeman broadcasting an all-points bulletin for Matthau’s recent escape and subsequent murders. The officers appear to be actual policemen, judging by their lack of "acting" skills. Matthau later steals a hammer from a plumber's toolkit so he can knock off the remaining handcuff with the aid of his pocket knife. It is a crude way to get the job done, and the sweat on his face amid grimaces indicates it is quite uncomfortable. A pretty realistic scene. The last one, too.

Matthau pulls off a bank con by posing as a film director. It is a clever idea on paper, but the filmed execution is too ludicrous to believe. He requests that three police officer’s help in his “rehearsal” of a bank robbery scene. A rehearsal without any studio cameras. The police watch the robbery take place right under their noses, totally believing they are rehearsing. Matthau locks the bank manager in the vault and tells the officers he has to go back to the studio. The loot goes with him, as well as the bank manager's new Chevrolet. A local mob boss is irate that he gets blamed for the bank job. He wants Matthau and sends his head operative, television's Garry Walberg,

At a horse race track, Matthau is quite animated when cheering for his horse to win. It all looks amateurish as if, while directing, he suggested he pop in front of the camera as the real-life crowd added realism. The segment’s edits are a nightmare, numerous and quick, in the attempt to make some sense of a difficult scene to film. Searching over the crowded grandstands, one mobster says astutely, “I can’t figure where he’d be in this crowd.” Matthau escapes and tells a patron backing out of his parking space that his rear tire is flat, and when the driver gets out to inspect, Matthau karate chops him on the back of the neck. That was easy.

Stock library adventure music kicks in during the chase. He abandons his car in town and wanders into the local library, where he meets the librarian, Carol Grace, the real-life wife of Matthau. Grace, in the second of her three movie roles, is somewhat comical in her big spectacles. Her soft-spoken, slightly raspy voice suggests a stereotypical bookworm (who should not take up acting). She seems awkward yet cool. Matthau shows his flair for subtle humor as he asks if she has any books. She asks what he does. He replies that he is a bank robber. She never flinches. This initial interaction is amusing when she answers all his questions with her own questions. The scene seems out of place because it is quite charming. All rather cleverly written.

She suggests he work on her citrus farm as an extra hand. He appeared to be the only hand. In the next scene, he and she are a couple. First in the orchard, then on the beach. Opposites do attract. Later, while running errands, she spots his wanted poster at the post office, and she does not flinch. Mobster Walberg tells his partner after spotting the library, “Let’s try this place,” as if it were a diner. Matthau escapes by holding stacks of books in front of his face as they pass each other, coming and going.

Once located and apprehended, Matthau and the boss have a brief talk about big money. He joins the local mob chapter, and Grace wants to go where he goes. Library work is so boring. The final big job is to hit the safe at a fancy golf resort. Matthau and pal sneak onto the course on the back nine, packing iron. Not 9 irons. The three guys in charge of the resort are none too bright, and I lost all respect for the person who hired them. After knocking out a fellow golfer, Matthau tells the three stooges there is a guy on the green who is "dead or something." All three rush out, leaving the safe vulnerable. The crook's getaway truck does not get far as the police close in. Note that Matthau towers over his costars and he runs funny, stiffly, like in a comedy. And the closing shoot-out is close to a comedy. Officers and crooks are being shot from the oddest angles, with bullets going around or over vehicles to hit their mark. The revolvers use the same sound effect from the 1950s The Adventures of Superman television series.

Madame Librarian has had enough of gangster life and as quick as she fell for the gangster, she just as quickly decides to leave him. He cannot figure the problem. Matthau tells her he needs her. He loves her. In a reply built for a comedy, she tells him in deadpan flair, “You never said that before, and now you have.” Matthau tells the mob boss he is through but the boss did not become the boss through benevolence. He informs the FBI of Matthau’s whereabouts, but he returns to settle the score with the boss. Grace will meet Matthau in Mexico, but when she hears the news report, she turns the car around before the border. Still, she does not flinch. After being AWOL for who knows how long, I hope she got her librarian’s job back.

Note: The opening blues combo title song, “The Itch for Scratch” (clever), is sung by a warbling Ted Stanford. He was a virtual unknown at the time and has remained so to this day. A guy who needed a gig. Any gig. His voice gets so quiet when he reaches the title lyric, he can barely be heard over the jazz score.

JOHNNY DARK (1954)

This Universal Picture's release is a fast-paced film about a talented, young and ambitious automobile engineer, Tony Curtis with a private investigator's name, working for an independent manufacturer.  Curtis An outstanding poster illustration tells all you need to know about this movie. The eighty-five-minute film was directed by George Sherman and produced by William Alland. The actors have nothing to apologize for but it was soon shelved in the minds of moviegoers in light of Curtis' rising career. Yet this film is far more fun to watch than a similar racing-themed release the following year, The Racers, a soap opera with cars starring Kirk Douglas.

Of course, there is a love interest. Petite Piper Laurie, also on a career upswing, plays an up-and-coming automotive designer, making it the only real ground-breaking aspect of the film. Don Taylor plays Curtis' best friend, fellow driver, and competitor of Laurie's affection. Taylor wreaks the race car prototype and Curtis thinks he was showing off. Curtis has to eat crow when it is discovered there was an engineering malfunction in the brakes which Curtis had been warned about. But the two competitor's relationship is never the same. Much of the first reel includes the mundane happenings of engine testing with no dialogue. The stodgy automotive founder, Sidney Blackmer, wants no part of any sports car in his lineup, demanding the company stick with cars that seat six, the standard American family. But his long-time engineer, Paul Kelly, believes in Curtis' idea, which sets up an inconsequential rift between them. Blackmer softens his stance, finding a place for a sporty model in the company’s roster, after Curtis places in the top three of a long-distance rally race. 

In hindsight, perhaps the most interesting aspect today is the vintage racing sequences in period sports cars captured by cinematographer Carl Guthrie. Of note is Curtis's vehicle of choice (and the film's promotional car) is the Woodill Wildfire (above), an American-made sports car to compete alongside the Europeans. A climactic Canada to California rally race is nicely filmed from the air amid spectacular scenery. A mounted camera on the front of a filming car, weaving fast through mountain roads, is a dizzying experience. Beyond that, it is standard fare for the period with Curtis and Taylor “speeding” in their studio prop cars ahead of projected back screen competition. I imagine this was a must-see for teen fans of Curtis and Laurie with many licensed drivers leaving the theater wanting to get their hands on a Jaguar XK120.

Note: Don Taylor had a versatile career in acting but most have forgotten him due to his supporting roles. He gained more fame as a director for some of the most popular television series of the Sixties. His skills led him to direct several major films from the Seventies to the Eighties. His second marriage in 1964 was to English actress, Hazel Court, of British horror film fame. They remained together until his death did them part.