ANATOMY OF A PSYCHO (1961)

The screenplay for this seventy-five-minute oddity was by Jane Mann and Don Devlin and rumored to include Ed Wood, Jr. This Plymouth Picture Inc. film was distributed by the “renowned” Unitel Productions. It is a rare occasion when I use the character names instead of the actor’s name, but with an essentially unknown cast, this seems to make more sense. Ronnie Burns (Mickey) stars with Pamela Lincoln (Pat) and her on-screen brother, Chet, played by Darrell Howell. We see a lot of third-billed Chet in this movie. Each actor does a fairly decent job, given the assumed direction by Boris Petrof and a crew with little imagination. Michael Grainger (Lt. MacGowen) brings the most acting experience to the quartet of lead performers.

Lincoln had a number of television acting roles prior to this turkey, and it displays her emotional range. And a powerful set of upper teeth. Likewise, Burns was not entirely unknown, being seen frequently on his parents' television show, Burns and Allen. Then he disappeared after this film. Burns’s larger list of acting credits gives him top-billing. Some reviews are confused, thinking Mickey is the psycho. But the film’s title refers to Chet, whose performance gets better the more psychotic he becomes. His somewhat anemic, dazed acting is actually effective for his character. Similar to a couple of Johnny Cash’s performances sans Western apparel.

Chet and his buddies frequently meet at “the shack,” a rundown house that epitomizes that very word. His best friend, Moe, an ex-Marine, calls it home. He is the elder statesman of the clubhouse. The band of buddies resides in a neighborhood where students are “held back” a few grades more than in the average town. Most of the young characters appear to be in their early to mid-twenties, masquerading as teenagers. Chet increasingly experiences paranoia and mental delusions after his brother is sentenced to die for a murder he committed, ultimately losing touch with reality. His condition is compounded by this, but it is pretty obvious he was not diagnosed with mental issues before the movie began. Pat tries to encourage her brother to bring in some income and take his mind off the subject. She pleads, 'I wish you'd go back to school. I'm a girl. I don’t need to go.' A popular statement during the early nineteenth century. But he is determined to seek revenge on those who testified against his brother.

Parents are scarce in this film. The only one is Mickey’s father, one of those who testified. When Chet finds this out, both are in his sights. The son of the DA gets beaten by the masked “flour children” (above) and Lt. MacGowen visits the young men—a sack mask over his head in a joke—to question them about a sack found near the crime. Known as “Mac” at the shack, he might have gone into social work full-time had he not chosen to be a police officer. He has real empathy for Chet and is determined to give him some sort of electroshock treatment. I mean, counseling.

Chet’s girl, Sandy, played by Judy Howard, playfully twirls through her first of two scenes in slow motion outside her mobile home, seemingly rolling off a fence and then a garage while always looking back at him with the neck flexibility of a swan. She wants a man with money. A man with a larger trailer. Chet has neither.

While attending a dance party at the very swank home of the local judge, Pat accepts Mickey’s proposal of marriage. It is a bit of a shock to witness the breathtaking view of a large, immaculate pool against Pikes Peak near Colorado Springs. As if the producer blew the entire film’s budget on this scene. It seems out of place after experiencing dark, low-rent neighborhoods for the first thirty minutes. Sandy shows up dressed intentionally to get noticed. Mickey invited Chet. Perfect. He hates the judge and his son, too. Perhaps the reason to progress the film under the guise of a dance party is so Chet can set fire to the judge’s mansion.

Mickey and Moe get into their second tussle at the shack. Moe pulls a knife, but it accidentally ends up in his stomach. Mickey flees. Chet kneels down while Moe pleads with him to not pull the knife out, he will bleed to death. In order to pin the crime on Mickey, Chet pushes the knife in further. What are best friends for? Slow-learning Bobbie witnesses the murder, and a dreaded courtroom scene ensues at about the fifty-minute mark. The judge is particularly amateurish. The swearing-in of McGowan seems to have caught the registrar off guard as he stumbles, then repeats his opening words. The usual theatrics raise their head as the prosecuting and defense attorneys badger the witnesses. Bobbie lies under oath after acknowledging he knows what perjury means. It is authentically boring stuff for an audience who knows the truth. I thought the jury turned in a solid performance because, outside of the foreman announcing the verdict, they had no lines. Bobbie cannot stand by Chet any longer and confirms the truth about Moe’s demise. 

Notes: Slowly but surely over the years, the "enlightened" have been convinced of their own importance. By the end of the Sixties, Hollywood codes and lifestyles began to change, but in 1961, there were restraints in place to not get too graphic with Chet’s revenge, nor was there anything perverse about having a young boy admire an older friend as a role model. 

Most citizens were naturally conscious of not offending anyone. This is silly now, but when Mickey introduces Pat to his father, he comes out of his room in a white tank top undershirt, reminiscent of men’s 1920s swimwear. He is totally embarrassed to have Pat see him “half-dressed” and crosses his arms to cover himself as he backs into his room. 

HIGH SCHOOL BIG SHOT (1959)

Distributed by Sparta Productions, this seventy minutes of celluloid was directed and written by television's Joel Rapp, the man responsible for writing some of the most popular shows of the Sixties. Let us not blame him entirely for this film. This was a team effort. Shave about five minutes, and this film might have played better through an RCA or Magnavox console. An intelligent, jazzy score by Gerald Fried opens the film, in which a third of the lead cast members are killed. Always an acceptable percentage for low-budget acting. The executive producer was Roger Corman, and though the twenty-something high school students are not fooling anyone, the acting is mostly above par, thanks to those same twenty-somethings and a few television veterans. A film that concerns a depressing group of flawed characters. There is the alcoholic, deadbeat father, a renowned safe cracker who subscribes to the “honor among thieves” mantra, a female classmate who puts the “man” in manipulate, and three high schoolers who enjoy talking about slapping their dates around or anyone they dislike. Just call them the “three stooges.”

Tom Pittman is good. Moody. Talking directly into the camera, he opens the film, asking about the whereabouts of a safecracker to maybe work out a deal. Though captivating, his cool, adult delivery immediately defeats the premise of the shy, awkward high school kid. He is routinely threatened by the bully-leader of the “three stooges,” Howard Veit, in his only acting role, simply because Pittman is the brightest student in the class. In true liberal thinking, he cannot beat someone, so he tries to eliminate the competition. Veit seems to be the more logical choice as the "wannabe" big shot, what with his classroom disruptions and smart-aleck replies. But he is just not that smart. Pittman is the one student who has a scholarship waiting. Being a big shot is not in his thinking. His downfall is the cute Virginia Aldridge, part-time tart of meathead Veit. With an ulterior motive, she goes sweet on Pittman to get him to write her final exam essay. He thinks they have a future, but she is thinking about graduating. Their teacher, television’s famous Peter Leeds, knows she did not write it. She cannot even quote it. After denying it, he presses Pittman again for the truth, and he confesses. She is outraged that he told the truth. Things just never work out for her. No diploma for her, and Pittman’s scholarship is canceled. Thanks, honey-bunch.

Malcolm Atterbury plays Pittman’s father. He was an old pro, and he bolsters the film’s early stages. Their father-son scenes are tender if not heartbreaking. Pittman is devoted to his father, who believes he will get another job or even remarry. Dad reassures his son that he has also sworn off drink. Later, finding his father again nearly unconscious, Pittman bends before him and breaks down in tears. He would do anything to remove their financial state of affairs and buy useless stuff for Aldridge. 

Pittman overhears his boss, Bryan Foulger, planning a million-dollar heroin deal, with the money to be locked in the office safe prior to the deal.  Pittman wanders the streets by fake-walking in place, head turning left and right. Pretty funny. He locates Stanley Adams, a well-dressed safe-cracker, who spends his off-hours mooching off a liquor store owned by his brother-in-law. Hard to believe, but Pitman transforms into a savvy mastermind as the trio splits their haul.

Self-serving Aldridge double-crosses Pittman and informs Veit that he should intercept the money from Pittman at the pier. Distant sirens can be heard. Detail-oriented viewers will notice a film flop as one Plymouth patrol car, conveniently unmarked, is right-hand drive. They use the same correctly projected footage for a “third” patrol car’s arrival. A visual lesson on how to save production money or pad a cheap film. But I digress. In his attempt to escape, Veit is dropped by a bullet and the briefcase flies open. Also on the scene is Foulger, who goes berserk, looking directly into the camera and twice uncontrollably fumes, “A million bucks!” as he watches it float away from the dock. Chilling, but the amount was only Pittman's share of the loot. The aftermath calls for four funeral arrangements and taxpayers to pay room and board for the rest of the lead cast. 

Note: James Dean made a huge impact (poor choice of words) on Tom Pittman. Both had television experience, with the medium being the bulk of Pittman’s work. He had several movies to his credit, and this was his last, released posthumously, along with a previous film, after he died from injuries crashing over a cliff in his own Porsche Spyder on Halloween, nearly four years after Dean. It was nearly twenty days later that his body and car were discovered in a ravine.