STARK FEAR (1962)

Over the decades, Hollywood's Golden Age classic films have nearly been pulverized to dust by exhaustive, glowing critiques. Allow me to pulverize this unknown low-budget thriller-ette distributed by Ellis Films. Who? Ned Hockman was given the directing duties but he abandoned the project over conflicts with the cast. Actor Skip Homeier took over. I imagine he was never more relieved to not be credited. One hopes this psychological exploitation film will be about sixty minutes due to the score alone. Unfortunately, the viewer is stuck for an unbearable extra eleven minutes of soapy opera. 

One might dismiss the sleazy screenplay by Dwight Swain, but dismissing the music score by Lawrence Fisher is impossible. It is the single worst element of this film. The music supporting an oil derrick pounding away in the opening is totally misplaced for an intense drama. Some sections flit from an Oklahoma hoedown to an early Hal Roach film, to schizophrenic terror. The score can be defined as the worst example of leitmotifs. Added annoyance is a sound quality suggesting the score surely was lifted from a decades-old source played by amateur musicians. In an unabashed attempt to copy Bernard Herrman's Psycho score, frantic, dissonant strings accompany an over-the-shoulder camera closeup of Beverly Garland driving a 1960 Buick. Competent performances aside, the film is an ugly account even without a score.

The aforementioned Homeier plays a sadistic—something of an adult role distinction for him—a husband who mentally tortures his wife, Garland. Despicable he. His dead mother fixation explains a lot about the psychotic character inspired by the Hitchcock blockbuster two years prior. When a man loathes a woman—apologies to the Percy Sledge hit—there is little he will not do to impose his hatred upon her. The fuming husband is seen throwing bottles at her mantle picture, breaking its glass before falling to the floor. The Buick floats into the driveway. Ah, “home sweet home.” It is her husband's birthday. There is a cake to help celebrate. She adds a single candle—like the one-year-old he is—and puts a romantic album on the Hi-Fi. He views this simply as a ploy to divert her “affair” with her boss. After viciously verbally abusing her, Homeier has a bipolar moment as they romantically embrace on the couch. While the record spins, oddly superimposed—fading in and out—is footage of an abstract painting on their wall. One may look at an abstract painting and wonder what is the point. So goes their marriage.

Kenneth Tobey—the boss—is up to his knees in Oklahoma crude. A former business rival of Homeier, they have had a long-standing hate relationship. The single, cryptic opening voice-over does not quite divulge this. Tobey is empathetic to Garland's marriage and has come to her aide on more than one occasion. Jealousy runs deep in Homeier's veins and he demands she stop working for Tobey. Never mind that he is on the verge of being fired and currently bringing in little income. Garland tries to stick with her disturbed husband which few moviegoers can figure. She feels it is her wifely duty to locate the disappearing skunk nevertheless. But she cannot. The script salaciously places her into some unlikely, personally dangerous and spooky situations in her discovery. Even stumbling upon a nighttime Comanche celebration dance that could not have been anticipated by her or the audience. Hitting a low point, the script has her raped by a drunken slob—hired by the demented Homeier.

The future of Homeier is of little interest to the moviegoer—indeed it is never revealed. Viewers can take comfort in the fact that his marriage is dissolved. She and Tobey enjoy an exhaustive weekend walking tour of Eureka Springs, Arkansas—through overlapping scenes of the happy couple accompanied by Fisher's goofy 1930s serial music. Garland returns to work for Tobey. He seems to be the right man but he harbors a stark secret.

DOWN THREE DARK STREETS (1954)

Produced by Edward Small and distributed by United Artists, this film is another pseudo-documentary-style account of the FBI pursuing three cases (dark streets). Underlying the opening credits is a commanding, All-American march theme, by Paul Sawtell. The film wastes no time locking in the viewer with the murder of a gas station attendant followed by a brief, dark and suspenseful scene tracking a killer. Then it settles into melodramatic voice-over narration informing the viewer what the actors are doing, have done, or will soon do. Aside from the first-rate performances, this movie possesses nothing new for the moviegoer. Broderick Crawford is solid in this warm-up for his successful television series, Highway Patrol. Literally and figuratively, he carries a lot of weight as an agent who plays it by the book but with empathy. Working alongside Crawford is polite FBI agent, Kenneth Tobey, always excellent with a genuine professional demeanor in any of his authoritative roles. The script is pretty riveting as his story unfolds. Tobey was working on three cases, each one involving women who may or may not have a common thread. Unfortunately, he ends up with much less dialogue than Crawford. 

Woman number one, Roman, is a primary dark street. She is getting calls from an extortionist with demands threatening her and her young daughter. Roman is a nervous wreck and Crawford replaces Tobey to help discover and apprehend the extortionist. Woman number two is Martha Hyer, who tries too hard for a Best Supporting Actress nomination. As the worldly girlfriend of the guy who killed Tobey and the service station attendant in the opening, she shows every sign of trying to steal scenes from Crawford. A tough job. Marisa Pavan is woman number three. Her conversation with Crawford is methodically talkative but provides a tender moment. She is so familiar with her surroundings, that it takes a while for Crawford to realize her character is blind. Her husband, Gene Reynolds, is suspected of hot car hustling. Known car hustler and boxer, Claude Akins, is also apprehended. He and Reynolds pretend not to know each other, but when the FBI mentions Akins using Paven as a punching bag, Reynolds attacks him, fists flying. The violent tussle between them goes without a single expletive. Not that anyone would expect it during this era. But a rarity for today's films as useless words are regurgitated without any self-control.

Roman closes the film with the climactic finale. A phone call instructs her to find a hidden note at a designated location. It is the classic ransom note with individually clipped letters pasted on paper. She is to put the payoff money under the "W.” She revolves, looking for the letter, then spots the Hollywood sign up the mountain. While driving closer she double-checks the note to make sure which letter she is looking for. She really is rattled. As scripted women seemed to do in this era, she stumbles, spraining her ankle from heels that should never go off-road. The money spills out of her purse. The extortionist, a face not unfamiliar to her, grabs the money and escapes through the big "O" letter. He has a very short drive as the way down is blocked by the police. After all the creeps Crawford deals with, Roman is a breath of fresh air. As she is escorted home, he tells his partner, “Sometimes you meet some nice people in this business.” The film closes from an elevated camera position and the return of the majestic march theme. Not unlike a Highway Patrol ending.

Note: Max Showalter, using his singing career name, Casey Adams, for this film, is a persistent “friend of the family” to Ruth Roman and a bit too frequent date. His brief appearances do not lessen his importance in the film. Speaking of a bit too frequent, Jay Adler has a creepy role as Roman's sleazeball uncle who comes and goes when one least expects it. He has no relevance in the film and simply gives the audience someone else to wonder about. Suzanne Alexander has a couple of short scenes in the early going. Her acting becomes unintentionally funny. She is unable to reveal details for fear of her life. The FBI agents are at the end of their patience as she sits, constantly trying to work up some acting tears while fiddling with her noisy, tinkling charm bracelet.