THE PRIZE (1963)

This rather long, illogical Communist spy yarn, distributed by MGM, fits the era and is more suspense than thriller, more nonsense than common sense. Director Mark Robson formed the Irving Wallace novel into a blend of intrigue and sarcastic wit.  Alfred Hitchcock's influence is quite evident, even in the glaring process screen backgrounds, but there is certainly nothing low-budget about this film, what with the lead cast's salaries and crew in Stockholm. The intricate plot takes about fifty minutes to get propelled, while the subplots lengthen the film with no relevance after exiting the theater. Right from the opening credits, with its use of snare drums and syncopated rhythms, you may guess correctly that Jerry Goldsmith wrote the score.

Newman arrives in Stockholm with skepticism about receiving his Nobel Prize in Literature. His lack of Nobel enthusiasm and less-than-classy behavior does have its effect on attendees. Newman tells the press he has not written a book in years and wonders why he was nominated in the first place. The committee is aghast to learn he has maintained a living by writing pulp fiction detective novels. All their noses automatically turned upward.

Elke Sommer, in her first American role, serves as Newman's assistant upon arrival. She is strictly by the book and expects no hanky-panky on the drive from the airport. Every moviegoer knows it is just a matter of time before she succumbs to Newman's bright blue eyes. Her character is one-dimensional and not thoroughly defined, relying only on her memorable attractiveness and stacked hair. Which was all that was needed for most males of the era. No one came out of a Sommer film stunned by her acting skills. Do not confuse this film with another of her roles in The Oscar (1966). That film takes the prize for the most embarrassing high-profile film of the Sixties. I digress.

On a 180-degree career path to Sommer is the classically pretty Diane Baker. Her upper-class, reserved appeal is her strongest asset for her intermittent role, with little to suggest she is integral to the script. She plays the niece of Edward G. Robinson's pivotal character. But there is little for him to do. He is also on the Nobel ticket but is kidnapped by the Communists with his “identical twin brother” taking his place. The plan is to move Uncle Edward behind the Iron Curtain, giving his brother the propaganda opportunity to make disparaging remarks about the U.S. during his acceptance speech. When Robinson 2.0 unites with Baker, it is not clear if she is part of the scheme or not. But Newman notices a change in Robinson's manner upon their second meeting, but no one takes him seriously except a couple of Communist agents. Newman becomes their primary target. His wit goes into hiding.

For a writer with little appetite for real-life dangers or the expertise to handle such, Newman manages a couple of fantastical escapes. His processed “Hitchcockian” fall into the river is reminiscent of the falling scenes in Vertigo. How he survived such a free fall, one may wonder. However, the real prize goes to the scene with the Communists trying to run him down on an iron truss bridge. Not successful, the agents pursue on foot. A farm truck approaches the bridge in a blur. Newman runs to the opposite side of it. After it passes, the agents are dumbfounded by his vanishing act. Even if Newman knew where to get a superhuman handgrip on the side of the truck, the force would have pulled his writing arm from his shoulder socket! His screams of agony would have made him easy to track. But there he goes, clinging to the side of the truck, face to face with a goat, in 007 glory. It is a ridiculous moment.

In the end, Newman has the Nobel thrust upon him anyway, making little sense after insulting the Nobel committee, nor for doing anything to warrant it. Like former President Obama receiving his Nobel during his first year.

Note: On the road to a career peak, after a few speed bumps, this movie is tailor-made for the likes of Newman. An anti-establishment figure with grumpy witticisms. Doubt there were other “A-listers” as appropriate, though James “Our Man Flint” Coburn comes to mind. Not necessarily James Dean, had he lived. Newman inherited a couple of roles that were slated for him. Then again, Dean, displaying his lack of interest in the Nobel Prize upon his arrival in Sweden, may have bested Newman's portrayal.

VICE SQUAD (1953)

United Artists distributed this Gramercy Pictures (II) production. Not a great film on the whole, but the script elicits a fast pace. Judging by the dynamic, dangerous opening score by Hershel Burke Gilbert, one could get the idea that one is about to watch a hardened crime story. But it is as lighthearted as it is gritty. And it is not gritty. Sterling Hayden is not in the cast. It portrays a busy day in the life of the police department with enough characters and sub-plots to suit a typical episodic television drama show, some fifty years later. Five years later, Jack Hawkins played Gideon of Scotland Yard in a similar premise.

The principal characters revealed in the film are related to one another in some way. The film lays all this out to resolve the main plot of the film, the murder of a police officer. Playing the police captain is Hollywood stalwart Edward G. Robinson. It is a joy to watch him juggle the script's characters in and out of his precinct. The captain has experience on his side. Calm and compassionate, he can be tough if necessary, breaking with police protocol to ensure justice is served. He deftly prioritizes the cases that arise and handles each with appropriate timing. Some encounters are rather humorous, especially the scenes with Percy Helton (see note below).

Known for his befuddled, confounded characters, Porter Hall (above) is simply exasperating here as a “respected” community businessman with no spine. His credentials usually can mask his illicit female encounters. He is not funny, but his predicament is. He witnessed the murder of the police officer. His attorney, Barry Kelly, assures him of an early release from custody. Both get a few slick runarounds by Robinson with Kelly at his wits' end. Robinson is not letting Hall go until he gets the truth.

Jay Adler is perfect as the quintessential, nervous weasel with a season pass to the vice squad's interrogation room. Adler has relevant information, but his memory is foggy due to fear for his own life. Robinson lets him sweat it out until his “fog” clears. With great reluctance, he lets it slip about an upcoming bank robbery. Gilbert's pounding score is effective as the robbery is set to take place. Officers are positioned throughout the bank thanks to the Adler tip. This scene is fairly tense and exciting, leading up to the attempted robbery. 

Christine White portrays a daughter concerned that her elderly, gullible mother is being taken by a two-timer who calls himself a Count. Robinson explains that falling in love is no crime, but will look into the matter. The Captain is concerned enough to have the charming Count brought in for questioning. Robinson relies on a psychologist to assess whether is is telling the truth. While the doctor is of Italian heritage, the Count's fake dialect puts him far from Italy. Indeed, he is an American citizen, more than likely from a midwestern state. It is a delightfully slick procedure.

Paulette Goddard gets second billing here. I got the feeling she relished the part. The police captain and Goddard's character have a long mutual understanding. She runs a lady's "escort bureau” and has provided Robinson with valuable information. Robinson gets the lead he needs to track down the laid-back lady's man, Adam Williams, the young buck in the gang with a thing for one of Goddard's ladies, and who skips out before the robbery. This cool, quiet guy suddenly becomes a blue ribbon champion at a state fair's “Angry Yelling” contest once apprehended and questioned about who may have committed the policeman's murder. Perhaps he was bipolar all along.

A clichéd bank hostage gives Ed Binns a safer exit from the bank than his partners. There is wasted footage of him peering out his hideout window with a camera cut to the female hostage, each staring back at the other. No dialogue. The only suspense is when she comes up with a plan to escape, and thanks to a good bit of script timing, he leaves the warehouse silently horizontal after Robinson shows up.

Note: Percy Helton turns in a brief, memorably humorous performance as one who is followed by shadows. Television pictures all over him. Especially on Wednesdays. Because of more pressing issues, Robinson keeps Helton patiently waiting. He is aware of Helton's condition and compassionately states he simply needs a “witness” to legally have the police look into the matter. Helton sincerely has no clue how to find one. Robinson suggests someone, a local doctor of psychology. Helton is highly encouraged.

A BULLET FOR JOEY (1955)

Even the dependable Edward G. Robinson cannot keep this sleepy production awake for extended periods. His role is that of a Canadian Inspector. As usual, Robinson is genuine as he calmly, methodically tightens the net on criminals thanks to his undercover officers posted everywhere in Montreal. Sometimes I picked up the demeanor of the future Inspector Columbo and his quips. Other times, the role is closer to his tracking in The Stranger. This film sinks into a balance of crime scenes, police lab work, and consultation with Robinson. As the music score plays underneath, we are witness to amazing images of enlarged fingerprints, a Teletype machine, the FBI, and the Washington D.C. architecture.

George Raft garnered fame about twenty years before this film. His character's name is in the title. This movie is stifled by his wooden, one-dimensional characterization in a role that made him infamous. Ex-con Raft calls everyone Buster or Joker. Words that roll off his tongue with experience. Audrey Totter is another memorable face, but that may be because she appears in this film to be one-third Gloria Graham. She is Raft's former girl and is happy to be rid of him. With all his short-statured charm, he cannot believe it. Today, few could name the balance of the cast.

The film opens with an encounter between a hurdy-gurdy man and his money monkey. For purposes of identifying him, Raft is later shown this exact footage, but as a supposedly personally shot 8mm movie. It is obviously the same footage from the opening by United Artists' film crew. A weak moment in the editing room. Common to the era, it is a story of the Communist Party's main function. Spying and cheating. A brilliant nuclear scientist, George Dolenz, whose knowledge makes him a kidnapper's go-to man, is their target. Peter Van Eyck, smirking through the entire movie, offers Raft big money to get himself out of Spain to do the deed. Raft rounds up his old gang from around the globe, each with their own brief music theme befitting their geographic location. Against the plan, Totter is nonetheless pressured into befriending Dolenz to gain information.

While staking out a ship bound for Europe, Robinson is spotted and taken prisoner aboard the same ship. Robinson suggests that All-American Raft "do the right thing" by helping stop the plot. He ends up needing more than a raft to get back to dry land. God bless America. Totter and Dolenz get to continue their growing relationship, and judging by the wearisome countenance on Robinson's face, he will probably retire.

Note: As with most posters, this one suggests two famous cinema gangsters at odds with each other as the big draw for audiences. But Robinson was able to move on from his early signature roles, whereas Raft never strayed that far from his roots.

A WELL-KNOWN HOLLYWOOD SHORT LIST

I am breaking from my usual comments on low budget movies to address five high budget actors and actresses for the “Five Stars Blogathon” hosted by http://www.classicfilmtvcafe.com/. There were some solid performances in the B-movie genre in spite of being saddled with a poor production or a bad agent. A few of those seemingly forgotten actors might appear on anyone's expanded list. But my candidates stand the test of time and are universally accepted as some of the best of Hollywood regardless of the era. Despite starring in a few less than successful films, their performances were not at fault. Each is impossible to ignore on-screen and in their best films, the running time is not quite long enough.

Edward G. Robinson

Except for the ubiquitous carnival funhouse distortion mirror, your average mirror never confused Edward G. Robinson with Errol Flynn of the Thirties. With handsome leading men being hand-picked by studios, it may be hard to figure how E.G. made it onto a soundstage at all. Not hard to figure is the polished performances of this tremendously dedicated, classically trained actor. His talent resuscitated many a script, transforming the movie into a memorable encounter. There have been those who seem fully aware or intimidated by camera and crew a few feet away. Their acting is turned on and off by their presence, perhaps trying too hard to make a good impression. There was never any hint of this in Robinson's acting. He inhabited his characters to become one of the most famous actors of any era. His distinctive voice and small stature was a polarizing magnet to audiences. From light comedy to heartfelt dramas or a crime story, he made it look so easy. His funny asides in “Larceny, Inc” to his amusing character in “The Whole Town’s Talking,” to his performance in “The Stranger,” each illustrated an actor of great versatility. He returned to his criminal roots in a believable role for, “Key Largo.” In his book, “The Actor's Life: Journal 1956-1976,” Charlton Heston wrote about Robinson’s last screen appearance in “Soylent Green.” Though E.G. was terminally ill, "He never missed an hour of work, nor was late to a call. He never was less than the consummate professional he had been all his life.” Yet, to go throughout his entire career without an Oscar nomination after appearing in nineteen academy nominated films is a bit mind-boggling. He did receive a Cleo award which included a self-parody ending line for a 1964 Maxwell House television commercial. Finally, a career fulfilled! “Listen here, Hollywood. May a pox be cast on ya', see!”

Gregory Peck

With his commanding voice, female-weakening smile, angular good looks, and stature, he was definitely someone to watch in the Forties. Peck was destined for screen immortality almost out of the gate and his fifty-four years of excellent performances catapult him to the top of any actor’s list. He will forever endure as one of the best representatives of Hollywood’s Golden Age. “Spellbound” may have solidified his career but he was just getting started. From his interpretation of a good-natured father in, “The Yearling,” the undercover reporter in, “Gentleman’s Agreement,” to the stressed-out combat pilot in, “Twelve O'Clock High,” each role fit him perfectly. His Oscar performance as the wise father and patient lawyer in, “To Kill a Mockingbird,” stands singularly alone. Critics complained about his stiffness in certain roles or in general. Maybe stoicism was a more positive moniker. Most thought he was miscast in “Moby Dick.” Though Peck apparently agreed, I find his Captain Ahab scary, commanding and appropriately stiff. The versatile actor rolled on. Who would have figured the western star of such classics as, “Yellow Sky” and “The Gunfighter,” or an Army lieutenant in “Pork Chop Hill,” as the unassuming professor with spy, Sofia Loren, in “Arabesque,” Peck's last outing for light comedy. When one considers Peck's entire body of work, comedy does not readily come to mind. But his first meeting with Loren’s character is funny because of his authentic delivery and charm. She enters the room and says hello. Peck, without looking up responds with a short, unconcerned, “Hello.” He does a double-take, and astounded by her beauty, cannot compose a sentence, only excitedly repeating, “Hel-lo, Hello! Hel-l-l-o Hello!” Few actors could make such effective use of a single word.  

Jean Arthur

The list of genuine comediennes with as many classics gets very narrow after considering Arthur at her nearly “ten-year zenith.” Adorable, thy name is Jean Arthur. Her characters of strength may be one reason her movies seem so relevant some seventy-five years later. Her silent films are now forgotten because she had no voice. A voice distinctly suited for comedy, wacky or not. Her child-like voice doubled her charm as if part tomboy and dainty ingenue. That voice gave her an “everyday girl” appeal, someone smart but still a bit confused about relationships yet always talking to men on equal terms. There were moments her voice sounded like her impression of an octogenarian as her voice crackled with her pitch squeezed to new heights. She interpreted her roles with a unique delivery that remains singularly endearing. Arthur was delightful as the savvy reporter when “Mr. Deeds goes to Town,” and is hilarious as the out-of-work secretary mistaken for a millionaire's mistress in, “Easy Living.” For “The Talk of The Town,” she again plays a single, well-educated female amid two male suitors with a few hilarious twists. For, “The More the Merrier,” her legendary voice and subtle facial nuances were both funny and alluring, especially to McCrea who was powerless to resist. Their scenes are innocent and pure yet may have set new standards for screen chemistry. She was worthy of the Oscar nomination. Other females of the Golden Age handled comedy well enough, which may have as much due to a great script than anything else. But to be flummoxed, smart, sassy, sympathetic, empathetic, resourceful, sad and funny in a single character, you need to be Jean Arthur.

Spencer Tracy

Tracy always elevated a film several floors simply by showing up. Adept at comedy or drama, with his natural style he seemed to walk through his roles as if he knew his part from birth. That he was destined to do one thing perfectly in his life. Act. His early Thirties films helped jump-start his career but by the end of that decade, his Hollywood stardom was planted firmly for ions with excellent films too numerous to mention. I have always defended his performance as Jekyll and Hyde. Coming off his first Oscar performance and the enjoyable, “San Francisco” or “Boom Town,” maybe it was a shock for Tracy fans and critics. Tracy's Hyde was not a physically grotesque creature, in the likes of John Barrymore or Frederic March, but a disgusting, psychological menace of terrifying proportions. His constant threatening of Bergman —” I am such a tease, aren’t I?”— as he calmly eats fruit, spitting the seeds on her apartment floor. All the while planning another “fun” evening together purely for selfish desires and ego. His performance, sometimes subtle, is a beautiful thing to watch. He would later team up with March for, “Inherit the Wind,” where Tracy wins the audience and court case over his costar in their respective roles. If his private life was not joy-filled, his comic timing is of course, legendary. Especially with Hepburn. Tracy could be the favorite father, a saintly priest or a despicable criminal. One can almost imagine him listening to his fellow costars deliver their lines, as if he just dropped by, then recite the appropriate lines in response in the most natural way. As his stocky stature seemed to allude, his acting was solid year after year.

Claudette Colbert

Though at times her high cheekbones and big wide-set round eyes gave a slight quirkiness to her face, there is no denying her appeal. Her slender body was much simpler to reason with and her skin was the envy of every porcelain doll. Her charm and sophistication were unequaled as was her insistence to be fashionable at all times on screen. All of which may account for her appearing taller than her rather short stature. Colbert’s silky, alto vocal range was another of her engaging qualities that could melt through any script. Her comedies are legendary and rank as some of the best of the Golden Age. Even if critics neglect it, “It’s a Wonderful World” is one of my favorites which includes her most memorable and charming line, “I swear by my eyes!” Keeping her sophistication intact, she held back on pure physical comedy. But she fit right in responding to it. “The Egg and I” came close with her character tackling the unknowns of farm living. Sort of a “Green Acres” predecessor, you might say. After World War II her success continued with a mix of highly regarded dramatic roles and comedies, culminating her career with a Golden Globe for the television miniseries, “The Two Mrs. Grenvilles.” Colbert was a smart businesswoman. She stood firm on her professional demands, of which there were many. She was shrewd enough to choose roles to maintain her Hollywood image. But what really mattered to audiences at the time was her flowing charm, self-assured characters, effortless acting and the uncanny ability to personify the expression of revelation. If Clark Gable was a man’s man, Colbert was, indeed, a woman’s woman.