FORGOTTEN FILMS: TV TRANSITION

Though typically overshadowed by Hollywood's A-list, there were respectable performances by numerous actors and actresses who never became major film stars. A common occurrence was their transition to the new medium of television, often becoming familiar faces in homes across America. These periodic posts offer insight into their transition.

Richard Denning: Louis Albert Heindrich Denninger, Jr. (1914-98)

Richard Denning got his start in Hollywood starring in a few popular radio programs of the 1940s and early 1950s. The most famous was being opposite Lucille Ball in the radio comedy, My Favorite Husband, which set the groundwork for her Lucy Ricardo character. But with no face for radio, the handsome Denning soon was singled out, first as a bit player then gained starring roles in mostly low-budget films. He was always fun to watch in spite of being cast in some forgettable films.

Denning was successful at garnering many supporting film roles during his early years in Hollywood as in the musical comedy, The Farmer's Daughter (1940), or The Glass Key (1942), and Black Beauty (1945) all the while rubbing elbows with some major film stars. He was the lead in numerous routine B-movies where he often played cool, easygoing characters able to hold his own in a fistfight. The 6’ Denning could deliver sarcastic quips with coolness in a Dick Powell fashion. Perhaps his most infamous role was in Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954) supporting Richard Carlson and Julie Adams followed by his lead in another science-fiction cult classic, Target Earth (1954). He had a nice turn in The Crooked Web (1955) as an undercover government agent routing out a German war crimes officer.

Television credits began to pile up with the lighthearted crime show, Mr. & Mrs. North (1952-54). Denning played a mystery magazine publisher who—along with his wife—moonlight as amateur detectives, echoing the Thin Man film series of the 1930s. The show was also a follow-up to a decade-old film as well as a radio mystery program of the same name. Denning kept busy with lead roles in the series The Flying Doctor (1959) and as the private investigator, Michael Shayne (1960-61) tooling around Miami in a 1960 Oldsmobile convertible. Beyond his screen time, the show was a dud. The comedy dud, Karen (1964-65), was next followed by his being called out of retirement to play Hawaii’s governor in seventy-three episodes of the classic police show, Hawaii Five-O (1968-80).

Note: Richard Denning was born in Poughkeepsie, New York but his family moved to Los Angeles before his second birthday. He attended Manual Arts College earning a Master of Business Administration degree from Woodbury Business College in Los Angeles. Denning married horror film and B-movie actress Evelyn Ankers in 1942. Their marriage lasted until her death in 1985.

PAROLE, INC. (1948)

Equity Pictures presents this uninteresting film about a federal agent's undercover mission. The Orbit Production is split between studio sets and location shooting, with the obligatory train steam whistle soundtrack in the distance. The opening title credits are accompanied by an Alexander Lazlo score, a B-movie composer and music director for NBC Radio at the time. The music has slight documentary angst about it and the opening roll of the introductory text seems to support this. Yet the score could be used for many dramas with a burlap background behind the titles. l cannot imagine many talked about the film after its initial run, although Michael O'Shea was popular. This movie lacks suspense, action, or any surprises, making for a long seventy-five minutes, including the minimum fist-a-cuffs action.

The film opens from O'Shea's hospital bed, and we see him verbally, still gasping for air, transcribe his thoughts over a Dictaphone about his recent investigation. His head appears bandaged by "Miss Winthrop's third-grade class" using masking tape indiscriminately. While his character sets up the film's premise through flashbacks, each time cutting back to his hospital bed, O'Shea's bandages begin to look a tad more medically approved. The nurses got a real chuckle with those third-graders!

As O'Shea recalls, he went undercover to flesh out the gang responsible for buying paroles for convicted criminals. His lackluster voice-over narration has all the raw toughness of Danny Kaye. Evelyn Ankers, the owner of a dinner club, employs several of her “boys” to do her bidding. The film plays out in slow motion as it cuts between informative scenes and the lull of O'Shea's narration. The Police Commissioner, Lyle Talbot, looking particularly oily in a pencil-thin mustache, arranges a fake news headline that reassures the gang about O'Shea's supposed criminal history. Soon enough, we are back in the hospital, and by now, bedsores are probably O'Shea's biggest concern.

Turhan Bey plays the gang's attorney—the hunk of Ankers—who is the kingpin of buying paroles with inside help from two crooked parole board members. In a pinstriped suit and dark Vitalis hair, Bey looks every bit the matinee idol and stands out from all the other average-looking people in the film. Harry Lauter, always on hand for a supporting role, plays a board member whose well-reasoned votes are constantly ignored by the overriding, obstinate committee.

The excitement nearly crescendos, but the ending is the least imaginative as we finally learn how O'Shea ended up in the hospital in the first place. It also supplies the moviegoer with his current status. He is finally out of that “Craftmatic” bed with dreams of going dancing again. 

FLIGHT TO NOWHERE (1946)

When the Golden Gate Pictures trademark logo appeared on the screen, my knuckles started to sweat in anticipation. Directed by William Rowland and distributed by Screen Guild Productions, this seventy-nine-minute film starts at a fast pace but soon settles into a talky, mundane script, stifling interest. An overabundance of abrupt edits from Gregg Tallas may give you whiplash, as few scenes never seem to finish a thought before cutting to another character’s scene and then back to where the whirlwind began. Carl Hoefle's music score accompanies one scene and then abruptly cuts to another without music. One scene may be at a bar, then a restaurant. They are outside with martinis. Inside with martinis. Flights of confusion from Los Angeles to Death Valley and Las Vegas. Marcel LePicard's camera filters make it difficult to distinguish night from day. 

There are very few actors who might be recognized by die-hard B-movie fans. Jack Holt, the famous early Western star, plays an FBI agent out to retrieve a map containing the location of uranium deposits, which was stolen from a Korean national and subsequently murdered after leaving a dinner party. This is the first studio film to deal with an atomic bomb angle. Certain guests at the party are suspects, and Holt arranges to have his trusted pilot and former FBI agent, Alan Curtis, tail them. Curtis was a frequent player during this era and does his best Clark Gable impression at times. Their washroom scene provides some well-delivered witty lines by Curtis. The scene simply supplies the background of their espionage days during World War II. Holt pops up throughout the film to keep the viewer and Curtis abreast as the story drags on. Curtis’ witty comments are the only spark to an otherwise droll script to nowhere. He gets hit over the head more than the average charter pilot, each time accounting for his loss of a secret map. If the map gets stolen, there is a music cue by a harp to confirm it. 

Women seem attracted to Curtis, and one gets the feeling he is not surprised. First up is dinner guest and supposed countess, Micheline Cheirel, who hires him to fly her to Death Valley along with her party of four. Fans of the low-budget films of the Forties and Fifties will be familiar with Evelyn Ankers. She and Cheirel are in an atomic hat war upon their screen entrances. Cheirel’s headwear gives her an “MST3000” Crow T. Robot look while Ankers went with a breakfast-themed, fifteen-inch, ten-dollar pancake. Adding to the overall confusion is a secret letter about one of the passengers, which gets stolen five times in a matter of minutes. Numerous characters bounce from scene to scene in a disjointed fashion, so why not add another? Inez Cooper, playing Curtis’ ex-wife, arrives to complete the character maze, which includes Ankers’ brother, two other male suspects, plus a few other males that muddy the story. Cooper’s purpose in the film appears to highlight her trade secret, that of a professional pickpocket. This might explain Curtis's divorce. She is so good that a large, valuable ring disappears from Ankers’s finger, who is none the wiser. Cooper steals Curtis's (sabotaged) plane, and the subsequent crash removes her from the script. The ending in Las Vegas is precisely nineteen minutes later than it should have been, as all the atomic secrets are secured after a few suspects either die or get arrested. While in Vegas, Curtis takes the plunge at a nearby chapel. That amazing pancake hat on Anker's head was simply irresistible.

Note: This project may be most notable for bringing Hoot Gibson out of his retirement...er...element. All the filming was done on location in Chatsworth, California, and Iverson Ranch, reflecting a budget reminiscent of the films that made Gibson famous. His minuscule appearance as the sheriff is notable for his cowboy hat and a cue-perfect entrance.