CODE 7 VICTIM 5 (1964)

An annual week-long celebration is the cold intro to this film. Once the mountains are spotted in the background, you know it is not Rio de Janeiro. The colorful parade traverses the Cape Town streets with instrumentalists and flag-wavers creasing the point-of-view camera as participants pass by. Amid the celebration, however, three [literally] clowns commit a murder.

Released in America in 1965 by Columbia Pictures, nearly half of this eighty-nine-minute film has a potential license to thrill. I was impressed with the great opening theme music by Johnny Douglas as the credits rolled with his faint nod to the signature sound of the "007" franchise of the period. Coupled with Nicolas Roeg's beautiful panning of Cape Town's bay from high in the mountains, it portends what might have been an international action-packed thriller. Add a winding mountain car chase amid views of the sea between two unlikely vehicles, and one can expect a lot of tire-screeching. Another reason for optimism is the presence of the maturely handsome Lex Barker, a New York City private detective with great-looking hair. In the early going, the private detective delivers exactly two one-liners ala Mr. Bond of the period. Yet there is not much action for him in town, and his stuntman, outside an early fistfight with attackers. The film starts to lose its intrigue with a somewhat confused and dull final third.

From the moment Barker steps off the Lufthansa Boeing 720, the film has secret agent potential. He never looked better. Yet he is more a puzzle-solver than tough womanizer. The engaging script continues as he is quickly met by the beautiful (naturally) Ann Smyrner, secretary of a wealthy German, Walter Rilla, whose butler was the film's opening victim—the reason for Barker's hiring. The heavily French-accented Veronique Vendell plays Rilla's adoptive daughter. The dodgeball-faced tart bounces from one male to another. Smyrner is not only an aviation pilot, but also at the helm of a 1958 Lincoln Continental Mark III 430 CID V8 convertible land yacht as it wallows up the mountains toward the estate. Roeg's distant pan shots of the vehicle add adventure—and no back-screen projection scenery ala Hitchcock's It Takes a Thief from a decade earlier. But look out—they are pursued by an eighteen-year-old Dodge Custom, perhaps on its last legs.

Barker—not to be confused with band leader Les Baxter—is one of two faces Americans will recognize. Less so is perhaps Ronald Fraser as Inspector Lean, Barker's help in solving the case, and the film's levity. Fraser's lifestyle is ogling bikini-clad females, and always arriving late to assist Barker. With his somewhat disparate facial features—a mouth no wider than his nose flanked by inflated cheeks—the ladies are not too discriminating. Rilla sits poolside in a wheelchair, though he is not the least bit physically impaired. Reminiscent of Program Manager, “Guy Caballero,” of SCTV fame. Baxter discovers a well-hidden photograph at the estate of four people marked for death. The butler makes it five. But no reveal of Code 7. Perhaps for good reason: Code 7 officially means “out of service to eat” for American police squads, making the teaser at the top of this poster hilariously misguided.

This British Lion Film Corporation endeavor was written by Harry Alan Towers under the pseudonym Peter Welbeck with a screenplay by Peter Yeldham. With its obvious Ian Fleming influence, the film made a tidy profit. Originally filmed as Table Bay, the current spy craze gave it the obscure Code 7 Victim 5 title, yet again as the more logical Victim Five. The end result is a rather talky mystery as it bounces from location to location. The former Tarzan, Barker, shifts to “African Safari” summer wear from JCPenney as he explores a diamond mine, shoots an attacking lion, and goes scuba diving, with viewers wondering about its point in the film. The “point” is the tip of a spear gun's harpoon, mysteriously skewering one of the cast. Expect the oft-used battle between good and evil on a gondola lift as it ascends a mountain and an implausible (nee ridiculous) cliff-hanging climactic pursuit.

Note: There is no doubt this film has some 1960s foreign trademarks of abrupt editing and a studio soundtrack seemingly unconnected to any screen action. Code 7 Victim 5 was released on Blu-ray in 2016 with another 1964 South African caper, the talkative and dull Mozambique—essential with the same production team—as a double feature. It stars a weary Steve Cochran, with an American release eight months after his death. The same or similar Lufthansa Boeing 720 from this film is also used in Mozambique. With the astounding success of the Eurowestern, The Treasure of Silver Lake (1962)—and its six sequels as "Old Shatterhand"—Barker was on a career resurgence with German audiences by the time "Code 7" was released.

KISS ME [atypically] DEADLY (1955)

This one-hundred-six-minute cult classic based on Mickey Spillane's salacious book of the same name is hardly unknown in the Twenty-First Century. What is definitively unknown are my opinions about some strangeness or implausibilities in this late-blooming film noir produced and directed by Robert Aldrich for Parklane Pictures and distributed by United Artists. I take note of numerous atypical elements that set this film apart from earlier film noirs. Years of hindsight have solidified this film's cult status and enshrined Ralph Meeker in the Hollywood history books. The measured score was composed by the versatile Frank De Vol, a four-time Oscar nominee with thirty-six comedy acting roles in his future, mostly in television. The film has become one of the most interesting and unusually imaginative film noirs.

This film's atypical opening involves quirky Cloris Leachman frantically running— appearing to be barefoot—in the middle of a road at night. Meeker/Mike Hammer nearly runs her down with his Jaguar XK120. The captivating opening screenplay by A. I. Bezzerides may give the impression that you just parachuted in. The studio cameras attached to Meeker's cars add realism to the film. No cheap studio prop cars in this one. As one would expect, she is exhausted. Questionably strange, however, is that she continues to heave and moan miles later as his passenger. One would think the director would have stepped in to suggest something else for Leachman to do at this point. It is unnecessarily extended or at least annoying. On a more positive note, first-time viewers were probably eager to know what happens next in this slow-burning journey. Cinematographer Ernest Laszlo should be noted for his lighting, and his Los Angeles location shooting may be interesting to those who grew up or still live there. He and Aldrich seemed to have had an understanding and would work together frequently. 

Not many Los Angeles private detectives have the wherewithal to be choosy about the car they drive. And it usually is not a Jaguar. Atypical. His home is built around a cutting-edge reel-to-reel answering machine embedded in his wall. Atypical. He employs an invaluable secretary slash undercover manipulator, Maxine Cooper. The report by the Kefauver Commission, in strongly-worded comments, said this film was not fit for families to view. The initial intimate embrace between the two leads may have made a few mid-century patrons uncomfortable, with the scene [perhaps] comprising one of the commission's middle paragraphs. Another paragraph may have addressed the atypical Gaby Rodgers—the most quirky female in the film and Leachman's roommate—Quirky 2.0. She, too, is barefoot in her opening scenes with a vocal delivery indicating she may be under some sort of influence. Rodgers' short blonde hair seems to fit the era's formula of a sociopath—the bleached hair of psychos like Raymond Burr, Skip Homeier, or Corey Allen comes to mind.

Adding to the lead cast are supporting roles for Wesley Addy, whose condescending, sarcastic delivery is always spot-on—here as a police lieutenant who knows how to keep a secret—and perennial bad guys, the two Jacks, Elam and Lambert. These two earn respect after Meeker's assumed martial arts training, effortlessly off-screen, debilitates Lambert. Atypical. As if Meeker has supernatural powers. Elam is visibly shaken by what he witnessed. Their mob boss, Paul Stewart, has a brief screen appearance but will not go unnoticed. The deviously smiling gangster and Meeker never resolve their trust issues. But with no hard feelings, Stewart leaves a newly introduced Chevrolet Corvette outside his home. He only sprung for two accessories—bombs wired to double Meeker's chances of exploding. The mustachioed Nick Dennis plays the experienced Italian auto mechanic frequented by Meeker, with an enduring phrase, “Va-Va-Voom,” when referring to fast cars or beautiful girls. After “disarming” the Corvette, it becomes Meeker's new ride of choice. It is atypical to spotlight this car in a feature film. The sound department has taken liberties with the Corvette's six-cylinder standard exhaust note. Maybe suggesting Dennis had something to do with that.

Rodgers is reunited with her superior, Albert Dekker, who warns her to never open “The Box.” It sets up the bazaar and chilling twist that utilizes a horrifying sound effect like mankind's screams from hell when she opens the box. Most atypical. Meeker and Cooper escape the beach house's “atomic” fireball—sans a mushroom cloud—capping an implausible ending as they reach safety in the shore's knee-deep water. Mid-century moviegoers—tossed between bewilderment and fright—may not have been able to describe the film to a friend except to say they had not seen anything quite like it before.

Note: The mystery box, so tempting to Rodgers, contained an atom that had excess nuclear energy of a highly unstable Radionuclide. Its degree of harm would depend on the nature and extent of the radiation produced and the amount and nature of exposure. However, with suitable properties, radionuclides are today used in nuclear medicine for both diagnosis and treatment. The film alludes to it only as atomic, equating it to the currently trendy atomic bomb fear in numerous movies.

FILM BRAKE: SHOOTING WITHOUT BULLETS

This 1958 black and white thirty-minute ABC network crime series centered around a celebrated World War II combat photographer, now a nationally famous freelancer working out of New York City. In reality, Desilu Studios in California. He is also well-known among his peers. Except that he had none. This man handled a space heater-sized press camera with its huge flash dish like few others could. He had fists of iron and an uncompromising persona. He had the latest spy cameras and always had the correct film for any lighting situation. He could change flashbulbs in a mere two seconds no matter how hot they were. His prints were to die for. Surely an entertaining premise where the lead character unwittingly “develops” into a freelance private detective.

Various Hollywood writers were used but most of the twenty-nine episodes were directed by either Paul Landres or Gerald Mayer. The action-packed jazz theme was by television's groundbreaking composer, Herschel Burke Gilbert. The series was a veritable “who’s who” of B-movie and television guest stars, many of whom would garner fame in their own right on the small screen. In his one and only leading television role, Charles Bronson is Mike Kovac, the envy or bane of all photojournalists.

Bronson’s voice-over introduced or periodically addressed his assignments and their potential dangers. Adding authenticity, he might provide technical details about a particular, high-tech camera to explain how he got that perfect shot. He drove a Ford station wagon equipped with a phone and a portable lab to develop prints on location. Though not much could be done with those prints without sending them with a “wire service.” Expect to see the lean and toned Bronson sans shirt, sometimes with boxing gloves. Whether assisting newspapers, insurance companies, the police, private individuals or clicking where he is unwelcome, taking photos can be life-threatening. Of course, Kovac had a connection with a police lieutenant who more often than not followed the cameraman's lead.

A nice touch was scripting in a father for Kovac. For seven episodes, his immigrant father was played by Ludwig Stossel who owned his own photo business. “Pop” was the photo genius and his son would seek out his photographic or assignment advice. There was good chemistry between them and it would have been nice to have these two interact in more episodes. It was difficult to make this happen as Kovac was not always in New York City and the series' short run gave little opportunity.

As the series progressed, Kovac was increasingly sent undercover, sometimes on foreign soil—stock footage inserted to sell the idea. He usually felt inadequate for these complex assignments, arguing that someone more qualified should handle them. But he is always persuaded. If you are going deep cover, get yourself a photographer. The show began losing its identity, morphing into another in a long line of private detective shows. In part, due to hiding spy cameras inside a portable radio, a cigarette lighter or even his necktie. That nifty Ford station wagon was essentially garaged as well.

This Friday prime-time show with its initial uniqueness, plenty of action and a captivating performance by Bronson, was sandwiched between “Walt Disney Presents” and “77 Sunset Strip.” One could not ask for a better time slot. For its second season, ABC switched it to the graveyard shift, the last prime-time show on the dreaded Monday night schedule. The move, coupled with some routine or lame scripts, had a “negative” effect and its second season was cut short. I wonder if ABC knew what to do with a guy like Bronson.

With the exception of Bronson devotees, the show resides in unknown territory. The complete series is available on DVD with a great color image and layout on the packaging. Following in Steve McQueen’s footsteps, Bronson soon found his niche and became a superstar in action films. Almost always a man with a gun.

THE FAT MAN (1951)

Universal Pictures released this crime film noir based on the popular five-year radio drama created by Dashiell Hammett. Directed by William Castle, the pacing is slow and offers zero excitement, with a screenplay by Harry Essex and Leonard Lee bearing some responsibility. The script could not be fully clarified without multiple flashbacks. One is a flashback within a flashback. The supporting cast is awarded at least one. At any rate, the frequency disrupts the film's flow. The film eliminates the imagination that radio can generate. Theater attendance made this clear, signaling a follow-up movie was not in the planning stages. 

J. Scott Smart reprises and finishes his role as the well-known private detective with a commonality with Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe, both having a passion for food with waistlines as proof. Smart is not nearly as smart, however. Simple investigative logic is all he needs to solve crimes. He can “cut a rug” on the dance floor and habitually addresses a female or male as “sweetheart.” His assistant is the befuddled and persnickety Clinton Sundberg, responsible for shuttling him around and designing his meals. He is very fastidious concerning meal preparation. 

The "Fat Man" is about to partake in a sizable gourmet lunch. A most inopportune time for Jayne Meadows to seek his counsel. She initiates the first flashback to help him understand her backstory. They become somewhat of a team in tracking down the murder of her boss, a dentist, and a missing set of X-rays. Thus begins the usual questioning of intertwined characters. Smart meets with Julie London on more than one occasion. She provides flashbacks about her husband, Rock Hudson, and his prison stretch from a million-dollar robbery organized by John Russell. Hudson's cellmate, Emmitt Kelly, learns of Hudson's demise and wants his share of the loot. A minor detail: Meadows and Hudson use their real first names for their characters, Jane and Roy, as in Roy Scherer Jr.

The performances sway like a pendulum. Meadows seems near-comatose throughout. London is in the same coma ward, though her coma breaks early. Russell adds interest to his scenes with his menacing brow, which fits a gangster, unlike Hudson, who is miscast. Teddy Hart steals his two scenes with Sundberg as “Shifty,” a short, weaselly, high-voiced Brooklyn informer. He teases Sundberg because he knows it exasperates him. But without a doubt, Marvin Kaplan's brief scene as “Pinkie” swings the pendulum far into the hilarity region. His distinct Brooklyn accent and his melancholy delivery were legendary. He and his brother-in-law and trucking firm boss, Edwin Max, dislike each other immensely. Max thinks Kaplan is a dimwit and incapable of a solid day's work. Kaplan's sarcastic banter with Max is delightful. It is not just for laughs, either. They provide the final clue for Smart to pinpoint the murderer. 

Note: Screen Gems created a second potential television series starring Robert Middleton. The never-aired 1959 pilot movie was a lackluster fifty-eight minutes, despite Middleton's suave and commanding performance and a fine turn by his crackling assistant, Tony Travis. This private detective charged $200 a day, indicating Jim Rockford was not keeping pace with inflation.

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.

PRIVATE HELL 36 (1954)

This eighty-one-minute noir centers on two detective pals coming to odds when one turns to the noir side. It is an independent film produced by The Filmakers Inc team of Ida Lupino and Collier Young. Directed by Don Siegel, do not expect anything ground-breaking, but it will not disappoint, thanks to a competent cast. The opening, in particular, is excellent as it leads to an off-duty detective stumbling perilously upon a store robbery. Leith Stevens' score with muted trumpets at the beginning adds a jazzy, low-key element and never overpowers the scenes. Unfortunately, his best bit, the bouncy, multi-faceted tune entitled “Daddy Long Legs,” is hidden in barely audible background music a couple of times in the film, the last being the meeting of the detective pals at a diner near the end. Revealed in the closing minutes, 36 refers to a trailer park address. 

Detectives Howard Duff and Steve Cochran are tasked with tracking down fake fifty-dollar bills from a three-hundred-grand robbery. The duo first encounters two famous character actors and one less famous. King Donovan is one of the robbers and a frequent guest of the police department. His face and torso hurt after a one-sided fight of realistic proportions with Cochran in that opening sequence. Dizzy Donovan has trouble keeping his aliases straight. Another stolen fifty ends up with a pharmacist, Richard Deacon, who is questioned about it. He is well cast in a meek, unassuming role. His prescription payment from a gall bladder patient leads them to one of the best character actors in the business, Dabbs “Marv” Greer. He is, as usual, one hundred percent believable. This time, as a local bartender who thinks the cops are accusing him of a crime because he had one of the bills. He is quite defensive about it. Duff has a funny line here to reassure them that they are just asking where he got the fifty. He tells Greer, “Uh-uh, mind your bladder, Marv.”

The duo turns next to money enthusiast, Lupino, a nightclub singer, questioning her at length about how she came upon her fifty. She delivers a few witty lines at the expense of the detectives, which Cochran finds very appealing. Against her preferred judgment, she is convinced to go along with their plan and ultimately identifies the man with the phony bills. A realistic car chase ensues with automobiles racing to the edge of tire adhesion. The fleeing thief is killed in a crash, learning too late that the mountain's “Road Closed” sign was not a mere suggestion. You might say Cochran goes over his own cliff when he pockets part of the stolen loot at the crash site. Most of it, he hopes, going to keep Lupino happy. 

Police Captain, Dean Jagger, who also opens and closes the film with sonorous voice-overs, calmly asks the cops later about the shortfall from the thief's suitcase. Cochran concocts a likely scenario. Duff sits silently fuming over his partner's blatant dishonesty. Obviously, the partners have a falling out with Cochran taking his obsessive downward spiral even lower, with murder not out of the equation. The final scene offers a twist, all explained by Jagger's script. 

Notes: Ida Lupino performs part of one number, “Didn't You Know?” yet she really does not sing it. She talks-sings it, never really zeroing in on any particular note. Unlike others who must talk their way through a song because they cannot carry a tune—Eva Gabor's “Green Acres” television theme is a prime example—she was musically talented. Her song interpretation simply is a bit humorous when considering Cochran going off in dreamland listening to her “talk” while the piano plays.  

Seemingly in his element, Duff earlier played a U.S. Treasury agent in the lesser-known film, Johnny Stool Pigeon, and would star as a detective in his own 1960s television show, The Felony Squad. Duff and Lupino's nuptials were in 1951. Their thirty-three-year marriage ended in divorce.

PASSPORT TO TREASON (1956)

This eighty-minute, Mid-Century Film Productions movie was released in America by Astor Pictures Corporation. Both are as forgettable as the film itself. It is one dark film, perhaps because the budget never allowed for any studio lighting. Though a fairly intelligent script, the film still generates a lot of fog.

At the height of his career, popular Western and television star Rod Cameron gets work overseas in modern-day London. The Candian-born actor's stoic persona and physical presence add credence as the lone American in this British film. His stiff, deadpan delivery never lights up the screen, however. A slow start might make you fast forward but there is no need. There is always a change of pace and the film climaxes right at the end, as low-budget movies tend to do. Not a lot of action, but the brief fistfight sound effects, however, suggest each blow completely crushes every facial bone of the opponent. A few years before her famous James Bond role, Lois Maxwell works for MI-5 to assist Cameron. She obviously had connections.

Cameron is the detective out to discover the hidden purpose of a peace organization. As to be expected, he is captured and given a truth serum to reveal what he knows. Also expected, he manages to escape at night, stealing a car to get away. Funny to think the influence of the serum made him weave erratically from lane to lane. In reality, he may actually be forgetting which side of the road to drive on.

Night scenes mostly cover a lot of potential editing mistakes and it is plenty dark. The film slightly brightens at the end. Still, it plays out more like an early Forties mystery. There is nothing intense and it is all quite familiar.