HONG KONG CONFIDENTIAL (1958)

This United Artists film uses periodic voice-over narration akin to a documentary newsreel. The Robert Kent Production sounds authenticated and unfolds the story with the smallest studio sets, looking more like an early television play. Yet in one scene they manage to squeeze in a current model Ford through one tiny street, leaving little room for the studio lighting let alone the Asian extras to walk about on cue. It is a tale of Cold War tensions with the Soviet Union and the special government agents assigned to resolve an unusual case. It is all fairly silly and predictable but the secret agent premise beats the Bond pictures out of the starting gate. 

The Communist's “new weapon” is to kidnap the son of an Arab King to pressure him into not signing an agreement with the United States to build a missile base in his small Arab nation. Assigned to find the prince is undercover agent, Gene Barry, who is posing as a lounge singer in a tiny Hong Kong nightclub set. He handles suave with the best of them and this film highlights his talents. The two brief songs he performs are the standout moments in the film. Barry had a voice but his body rhythm here is hilariously stiff and corny. His left and right arms do whatever they want with his body planning on moving right but it suddenly feels compelled to move left. Cannot fault him for trying his best to sell the first lame song about himself. But he is definitely a “foot loser.” Few would ever guess he is an intelligence agent, so in that regard, he is in deep cover. His love interest and accompanist is played by Beverly Tyler in her last film before transitioning to television. She is not undercover yet her faked piano playing made me suspicious.

After Barry’s informant is killed, King Calder, the intelligence agent recommends Barry for the prince's retrieval. There is evidence that the informant had ties to Allison Hayes, who is under surveillance for gold smuggling to the Communists. Hayes can play untrustworthy through makeup and wardrobe alone. She resides in another small Asian film set called Macao. So Barry has about forty feet to travel, not forty miles, in the hope of flushing out the kidnappers. Barry sells her on his smuggling plan of mass-producing souvenirs, yet after the cheap metal is burned off, underneath is solid gold.

Barry discovers a medallion belonging to the kidnapped prince in the office of Noel Drayton and the kidnapping mastermind is revealed. Hayes sets up a meeting with Drayton but double-crosses Barry at gunpoint, forcing him into a cellar where Drayton awaits with the kidnapped prince. Smugly, he tells his plan to pin the kidnapping on the American Barry. He and the prince will be killed after the Arab King signs the papers to let the Commies establish their own missile base. All wait impatiently for that important phone call. But Barry comes up with a plan to disrupt the telephone service that is right out of a Bond playbook. In the standard secret agent ploy, he needs to stand and "fake" stretch. Then with outstretched arms, he casually picks up a thick metal pin lying near the telephone. Really not sure what it is, yet it is pretty obvious he is up to something. I am surprised Barry was not whistling a random tune. Drayton is oblivious. Suspended disbelief at its best. The funny scene continues as Barry sits back down and one arm immediately dives between the cushions as if it were sucked in. Below the couch is where the telephone line is and he pokes the pin through the rubber-encased telephone cable. Drayton must call from an upstairs phone to confirm the signing. He leaves Hayes alone with Barry. Uh-oh. Moviegoers knew what was coming next. In her “duh” moment, Barry volunteers to light her cigarette but overwhelms her with his charms...uh...arms, knocking the gun from her hand and as she stumbles hits her head in the fall. Drayton returns and graciously accepts a bullet. Barry and the prince escape.

One evil-doer is holding Tyler as Barry leverage. Barry kicks open the door and stands back as Asian bullets shoot the hallway full of lead. Without looking, Barry shoots around the door frame, killing the man. Yes. He is that good. At that very moment, another man is ready to shoot Barry in the back but he is shot in the back by Calder. This would have extended in a Zucker Brothers film. Tyler’s suspicions about Barry’s dancing abilities become clearer when she learns of his real occupation.

Note: Another funny scene, an optical illusion, is between Calder and Barry. Both men are facing the camera with Calder standing right behind Barry's right shoulder. Due to the lighting and shadows, it appears Calder is resting his chin on Barry's shoulder, who is getting a bit uncomfortable.

TIMETABLE (1956)

Arguably, this may be the best mid-century film of Mark Stevens’ career. His character is believable and, with only a few of his directorial details going amok, is a highly-rated B-movie. One of those details is the film opening to the relaxing sounds of an acoustic guitar more befitting a Western or foreign film. Yet there is a train's headlight coming at you. Abruptly, there is the sound of a sliding iron door slamming shut with a single music chord as the title graphic explodes on the screen. Then back to the guitar, then a full orchestra. That is editing worth looking into. The train sequences are the strongest part of the film, though, laying out the slick, detailed con. Indicative of the era, the ending chase is too long, especially knowing the errant characters are doomed. There are only so many flights of stairs to nowhere or alleys to run down. 

Wesley Addy, playing a bespectacled doctor without a license to practice, was busy on television with a few movies—Kiss Me Deadly, perhaps his most famous project—is only in two scenes, but his smooth, calming, and authoritarian delivery belies his devious persona. When asked by a steward to check on a sick passenger, his diagnosis is that of a phony case of polio, and the train must stop short of the scheduled destination. Due to the severity of the illness, he must have access to his medical bag in another car. His bag comes equipped with a gun for house calls. At gunpoint, he subdues the baggage personnel with a hypo, opens the safe, and keeps the loot. An ambulance is arranged for the doctor, the patient, and his wife. Everyone who debarks is part of an elaborate heist orchestrated by Stevens.

Stevens’ character, as an insurance investigator, is specifically requested to investigate the crime for the company, throwing a wrench into his timetable. Joining him in the investigation is railroad investigator King Calder, above. Practically unknown to moviegoers yet busy during the early years of television, he is excellent and so genuine that one would think he really is an investigator. He has no awareness of studio cameras right in front of him. He simply inhabits the part. He and Stevens have a long working relationship. Calder is convinced there is no such thing as a perfect crime, and he slowly unravels the crime one blackboard, one eraser, and one person at a time. 

True to Calder’s belief, the mastermind’s perfect timetable is again disrupted when he meets up with his reason for the money, Felicia Farr, Addy’s on-screen wife. The money is now in the husband's possession, and the couple makes their pre-planned Mexican escape. She squeaks by with the money and her life. He escapes with neither. With Steven's murder of a key witness and conspirator, Calder tells him the case appears to be a dead end. He suggests Stevens and his wife finally take that Mexican vacation they have talked so much about. Stevens is thinking, “Wife? Whose wife?!” 

There is a nice twist involving Stevens’ briefcase with the stolen money.  As a surprise joke, his wife has a key made for the case, substituting fishing lines and travel magazines for his “work papers.” His briefcase was a surprise to her as well. Doing the right thing, she sends the loot to his insurance company. Their relationship instantly turns south of the border. While Stevens hyperventilates, he leaves for good. Calder pays the wife a visit and she reluctantly reveals her husband's lack of clock management skills. 

Note: Stevens’ directing is not faultless. One detail that is not even questioned is that Stevens tries to convince Calder that the key witness's murder was a suicide. Except he was shot in the side. A slow suicide at best. Secondly, the script uses aliases for the thieves in the opening heist. With no lines or screen appearance, the fake patient’s name is not mentioned until later as the investigation unravels. When his name is mentioned, one might wonder who they are talking about. Thirdly, Stevens could have shaved minutes by cutting the set of “hot news” segments, interviewing those accosted during the robbery. A single-chord music cue gives each more credence than it deserves. The scenes serve no purpose.