FILM BRAKE: SHOOTING WITHOUT BULLETS

This 1958 black and white thirty-minute ABC network crime series centered around a celebrated World War II combat photographer, now a nationally famous freelancer working out of New York City. In reality, Desilu Studios in California. He is also well-known among his peers. Except that he had none. This man handled a space heater-sized press camera with its huge flash dish like few others could. He had fists of iron and an uncompromising persona. He had the latest spy cameras and always had the correct film for any lighting situation. He could change flashbulbs in a mere two seconds no matter how hot they were. His prints were to die for. Surely an entertaining premise where the lead character unwittingly “develops” into a freelance private detective.

Various Hollywood writers were used but most of the twenty-nine episodes were directed by either Paul Landres or Gerald Mayer. The action-packed jazz theme was by television's groundbreaking composer, Herschel Burke Gilbert. The series was a veritable “who’s who” of B-movie and television guest stars, many of whom would garner fame in their own right on the small screen. In his one and only leading television role, Charles Bronson is Mike Kovac, the envy or bane of all photojournalists.

Bronson’s voice-over introduced or periodically addressed his assignments and their potential dangers. Adding authenticity, he might provide technical details about a particular, high-tech camera to explain how he got that perfect shot. He drove a Ford station wagon equipped with a phone and a portable lab to develop prints on location. Though not much could be done with those prints without sending them with a “wire service.” Expect to see the lean and toned Bronson sans shirt, sometimes with boxing gloves. Whether assisting newspapers, insurance companies, the police, private individuals or clicking where he is unwelcome, taking photos can be life-threatening. Of course, Kovac had a connection with a police lieutenant who more often than not followed the cameraman's lead.

A nice touch was scripting in a father for Kovac. For seven episodes, his immigrant father was played by Ludwig Stossel who owned his own photo business. “Pop” was the photo genius and his son would seek out his photographic or assignment advice. There was good chemistry between them and it would have been nice to have these two interact in more episodes. It was difficult to make this happen as Kovac was not always in New York City and the series' short run gave little opportunity.

As the series progressed, Kovac was increasingly sent undercover, sometimes on foreign soil—stock footage inserted to sell the idea. He usually felt inadequate for these complex assignments, arguing that someone more qualified should handle them. But he is always persuaded. If you are going deep cover, get yourself a photographer. The show began losing its identity, morphing into another in a long line of private detective shows. In part, due to hiding spy cameras inside a portable radio, a cigarette lighter or even his necktie. That nifty Ford station wagon was essentially garaged as well.

This Friday prime-time show with its initial uniqueness, plenty of action and a captivating performance by Bronson, was sandwiched between “Walt Disney Presents” and “77 Sunset Strip.” One could not ask for a better time slot. For its second season, ABC switched it to the graveyard shift, the last prime-time show on the dreaded Monday night schedule. The move, coupled with some routine or lame scripts, had a “negative” effect and its second season was cut short. I wonder if ABC knew what to do with a guy like Bronson.

With the exception of Bronson devotees, the show resides in unknown territory. The complete series is available on DVD with a great color image and layout on the packaging. Following in Steve McQueen’s footsteps, Bronson soon found his niche and became a superstar in action films. Almost always a man with a gun.

CLOSE-UP (1948)

This seventy-six-minute drama offered one or two surprises during its first run, but it is no surprise today that it was produced by a small studio with the male and female leads somewhat resembling more famous Hollywood celebs. Distributed by Eagle-Lion Films for Marathon Pictures, it is a pretty good tale of fleshing out a Nazi war criminal who has never been brought to trial. The film begins on a comedic note, allowing the characters to endear themselves to the audience. It is never a dull moment with quips flying left and right. Thank the screenplay by John Bright and Max Wilk for these. Additional dialogue was supplied by the director, Jack Donohue. The humor takes a back seat, however, as the plot unfolds.

Alan Baxter is a newsreel photographer in New York City. At times, he appears and sounds like a young, nasal-toned James Gregory. He opens the film with a voice-over that introduces his character and sets the stage for his tale. While on assignment for a high-fashion shoot outside a bank, he unknowingly films a Nazi war criminal, Richard Kollmar, exiting the bank. One of Kollmar's operatives was at the same location and realized the danger of releasing the photos. He buys those frames of film based on a phony story. But it is only a print. Kollmar demands the original negative.

Enter magazine reporter, Virginia Gilmore, looking familiar as the then-current, more famous Jane Greer. Baxter, being a gentleman, is always on the lookout for an attractive female. Gilmore's silk stocking-wrapped ankles are the ticket. They hit it off, one reporter to another. But hold that thought. Baxter is kidnapped by another Kollmar associate, Phillip Huston, posing as a policeman. He and his henchman take Baxter aboard the intimate surroundings of a Staten Island ferry. I was hoping there would not be a “chase” in such small quarters with the usual up-and-down staircase pursuit. But Baxter is in constant motion and does a nifty getaway by stepping onto another ferry going the opposite direction at the dock. All feasible. Director Donohue handled it well.

Still needing the negatives, a goon is sent to kill Baxter's boss, but he never leaves the office. The film's negative remains on his dead body. Baxter gives instructions to his waiting cabbie, Sid Melton, to take the canister to the police if he does not return. Unsuspecting Melton is hit on the melon, and the negative is again on the move. The film switches to an “ankle cam,” focusing on a pair of post-war nylon stockings. In the background is her boyfriend, Huston, as the audience gasps to learn instantly of Gilmore's backstory. In the meantime, Kollmar hired a seaplane to fly him out of the country. Huston accompanies him with Baxter restrained at gunpoint. Huston has plans to double-cross Kollmar, who suspects as much. Huston is eliminated, and Kollmar dashes to the plane with Baxter in pursuit. A sympathy call from Gilmore sent the police to the docks. Kollmar's “ticket” is canceled, and the seaplane heads for open waters. Despite the well-meaning call, Gilmore is going to be without nylons for some time.

Note: Comedian, Joey Faye, (above left), plays Baxter's assistant and is responsible for a big dose of the humor. He pretends to be a cool operator with a camera and the ladies. He has better fortune with the former and comes off as the unknown fourth stooge with the latter. Faye should be appreciated for his delivery, timing, and physical comedy. He ends the film on a comedic note. Not being entirely incompetent, he had the foresight to bring his camera to the shore to film the ending, headlining story. As he steps backward, he falls into a motorcycle sidecar as it speeds away. His camera, still rolling.