FEAR NO MORE (1961)

Personal secretary, Mala Powers, boards a train with an assignment from her boss, John Harding, to deliver an important letter. She is instantly accosted in her compartment by a man with a gun, then knocked unconscious. She is awakened by an assumed police officer who accuses her of murder, part of the weakest frame-up ever. It is going to be that kind of movie. There are many secrets in this film. In general, if you are gullible enough, they are revealed by the very end—assuming one can hold out for the full eighty minutes. This is strictly television fare—perhaps suspenseful—like a low-grade attempt to copy a less successful Hitchcock film. Some lavish praise on Powers' acting in this nightmare of improbable characters. I thought she was much better eight years earlier in City That Never Sleeps. I will say, I never doubted her character's six months in a mental hospital due to a nervous breakdown. Powers' repetitious, wide-eyed hysteria would seem to indicate she has issues. I find her over-acting captivating. Keeping tabs on who is or who should be a mental patient may be a task.

She appears to escape the clutches of the officer after the train stops and in total panic, is nearly run over by a 1960 Ford driven by Jacques Bergerac—Hollywood's worst fake French accent from an actual Frenchman. Michael Palin was just as good in that Holy Grail movie. His character is not well defined except we know he is divorced and has a young son who cannot stop crying from bumping his head on the dashboard after the panic stop. We do know this: he wants Powers to level with him. Something she has difficulty doing throughout the first hour.

When Powers returns to Harding's home, his habitual lies are dispensed flawlessly. It is an old premise where he denies the train incident or that the letter ever existed. The remaining players are in kind, also denying her reality. Appearing totally perplexed by it all, it is a highly improbable conspiracy that includes the chauffeur who drove her to the station, the lady she was accused of killing, and the officer who arrested her. It is all a bit much and I found it very silly with an assumed climax, barring one twist. Harding's condescending explanations for what never actually happened are hard to sit through. Bergerac seems to be along as Powers' defense attorney or hostage negotiator. The movie-goer's frustration all leads up to a hilarious ending of bad acting with a detailed—albeit confusing—explanation of what the first fifty-eight minutes were about. The only twist worth mentioning is that Powers and Bergerac are the only ones who do not belong in a sanatorium.

Notes: Based on the 1946 novel of the same name by Leslie Edgley, this pseudo-thriller was directed by Bernard Wiesen. It was produced by Wiesen, Earl Durham, and Julie Gibson for Scaramouche Productions and distributed by Astor Pictures, a poverty row film distributor from the Thirties through the Fifties.

The studio prop car that Bergerac "drives" in traffic is typical of low-budget films. Not long after they first meet, he is so exasperated by Powers' secrets it appears he stops in the middle lane (at night) and asks her to get out. Yet the projected screen traffic is still moving behind him. Indeed, her reality is that she will more than likely be struck by a vehicle if she exits. Every driver behind him is courteous without a single horn honk.

DEATH IN SMALL DOSES (1957)

From a Saturday Evening Post exposé by Arthur L. Davis this film is based on factual accounts. The film was directed by Joseph M. Newman who had several notable B-movies already under his clapboard. A jazz-inspired score by Emil Newman and Robert Wiley Miller is used effectively over opening credits, all in modern, lowercase letters. This low-budget Allied Artists production is a well-cast “call to action” about the excessive use of addictive, mood-altering drugs. The viewer is locked in from the opening scene with headlights glaring down a dark highway. The theme is established as the driver, to stay awake, downs a handful of amphetamines, known as “bennies” (Benzedrine) or “co-pilots” to truck drivers. His subsequent hallucination drives him over a cliff.  As is often the case with any old movie, regardless of budget, there are a couple of unintentionally funny scenes of note.

Handsome, likable Peter Graves plays one of the numerous FDA agents sent undercover to find out who is supplying drivers the illegal pills. This may be the best B-movie production of his career as a man with undercover experience. His “off the top of his head” suggestion for a phony alias and routine cover for this sort of thing is pretty funny. And not even questioned by his supervisor. He decides to be a widower from...um... Indianapolis...um...who has been drifting for...um...five years working at various...um...jobs. Perfect!

You will not forget Chuck Conners' standout performance. One might think he is over-acting, but on the contrary, he sells the harmful effects of drug addiction vividly. Connors hams it up as a hopped-up-hepcat big-rig driver. He and “Bennie” can go the distance on the highway or the dance floor. His flirtations with the diner waitress, Merry Anders, is a favorite pastime. Sleeping is for losers, in his altered mind. When Graves becomes a border in the same house as Connors, the automobile buff will wonder who owns the Thunderbird convertible curbside. Once Connors “blows the cameraman off his feet” with his first appearance, the owner is revealed. His climatic, hallucinogenic ride, almost drives him insane, and nearly kills Graves in the process before getting him the medical help needed.

Mala Powers, who runs the trucker's boarding house, looks sheepishly uncomfortable when Graves checks in. Like she killed her dog a couple of hours before after he peed on the carpet. Graves' phony backstory plays to her emotions and they soon become attached at the lips. She will be quite surprised to learn he is just a professional doing his job. So there is little surprise for the moviegoer that they have no future together. Typically, Harry Lauter is just too nice as Power's thoughtful “brother-in-law.”

Routine stops at a service station introduce us to the owner, Robert B. Williams, as “Dunc.” The amiable character is the driver's primary pill physician, but he is not the kingpin. When the pill-pusher gang finds out the identity of Graves he is abducted and taken to a remote location. Against his will, Williams is also “taken for a ride” and then commanded to dig a grave for Graves. Sensing a chance to sway Williams' actions, Graves tells him he is also dispensable. “Dunc, you better make that two graves.” After that unintended pun, Williams places the shovel upside of the head of the drug kingpin. After a few stray and deadly bullets, Graves returns to town to wrap up his assignment. Powers' hysteria of being arrested at the end is a bit much.

CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS (1953)

The slow-motion dissolving opening credits of a shimmering font seem to establish a whimsical tone. The orchestral music crescendos gently as each main credit slowly appears, then decrescendos as credits fade. Then the cycle repeats. With a complicated lead character, this movie needs to be watched more than once to catch all the nuances that make this low-budget film work. The film's pacing in the first thirty minutes was a bit frustrating, however. The cinematography by John Russell is certainly a highlight. The exception is the "Keystone Cops" rear projection of 1930s traffic as seen from a speeding (studio) police car's windscreen. The wacky, blurred footage embarrasses an otherwise solid, yet slightly quirky, film. The sets nicely masquerade for location filming, yet according to the film, all businesses apparently close after dusk. The insomniac city is Chicago, and Chill Wills gives it voice during one day in the Windy City. 

Young is strangely nonchalant with his unhappy lot in life, thinking it will be his last day as a policeman. He has grown weary of his job and restless with his marriage of an interminable three years. Few could play nonchalantly better, though. It took me a while to realize the early references to “Pops” was more than everyone's affectionate term for a senior policeman. Young plays his son, carrying the family torch in the line of duty. Young's brother, on the other hand, is tempted to a wilder side by local magician turned hoodlum, William Talman. Rather odd since the magician angle is irrelevant to the movie unless he prepared those title credits. Talman has indelibly etched himself into another film, this time as a smooth and calculating criminal mind. Edward Arnold, the powerful crooked attorney, is a "maker of men." Talman is one, and he hopes Young, being unhappy as a lowly policeman, will be his next success. The attorney will pay Young handsomely if he transports Talman to Indiana for protection. In reality, it would get him out of Arnold's hair. What there is of it. Arnold's wife, Marie Windsor, has her own scheme.

In the mix is an “exotic” dancer, Mala Powers, to whom Young is not that committed either. He would like to be, but it is complicated. She plays an aspiring ballerina whose bit of bad fortune placed her in the company of Tutu-less dancers. Also in love with Powers is perhaps the film's most unusual character. Wally Cassell plays the club's unique entertainer, whose job behind an elevated glass case outside the nightclub is to fool the public into believing he is actually a mechanical man. With his face painted silver, under a top hat and black tuxedo, he performs in shifts for the equivalent length of this movie---ninety minutes---with fifteen-minute breaks in between. This quirky character is the only witness to a murder by Talman outside the club. And Cassell's single tear exposes the truth.

There is a nice ending twist of confusion for Talman. The father takes the police radio call in place of his son. Talman is stunned to learn that father is there not to take him to the Hoosier state but to handcuff and arrest him. With the devastating realization of Talman's heartless action, Young's career commitment and life purpose hit new heights, no thanks to Wills. The ending is the typical gunfire exchange while running to total exhaustion. Chicago's electrified elevated commuter rail system is a big concern as both men sidestep around it in the shadows. 

Spoiler Alert: When Chill Wills pops up out of nowhere to be Gig Young's substitute patrol partner, the viewer and Young wonder where he came from. It is a good bet this film is the only fantasy noir released by Republic Pictures or any other studio. It is another quirky element, and I am not sure it even has a point. Young does not seem to be affected by any of Will's angelic, wise counsel. Nearing the film's end, once he is confident, Young has his life on course, he vanishes just as mysteriously as he appeared.

Notes: A couple of officers refer to Talman as a “who’d.” It was an era when "hoodlum" was truncated to "hood" as slang. Other movies of the era may use the same term. Finally, Wally Cassell may be best known as the soldier with constant amorous intentions in the notable 1945 film, Story of G.I. Joe.