HOT SUMMER NIGHT (1957)

 

There is some intrigue at the beginning of this film as bank robbers coerce a bank executive from his home at night to open the vault. Overall, it is a decent film, helped enormously by veteran actors. The film stumbles during a slow-motion, dimly-lit getaway through a most obvious studio set with "studio dirt" heavily applied to a station wagon. There is zero realism in the scene that is sprinkled with extras as obvious as shadows on a sunny day. In his small, fading hometown, Robert Wilke has become somewhat of a local hero, giving his illegal gains to support the town where he sees fit. The townsfolk are very protective of him—out of fear.

The recently fired newspaper reporter, Leslie Nielson, sees the news article about a local robbery and develops a plan—put his honeymoon on hold while he gets a scoop on Wilke's former girlfriend. Nielson's past article helped free her from his dominance, but everyone in town is tight-lipped about her whereabouts. Never mind about his wife, Colleen Miller, for marrying a guy without a job or mindlessly accepting her husband's decision for this dangerous career booster. He is vague about his plan, only telling her that a honeymoon is forthcoming. Probably.

Wilke's ego is stroked with anticipation of a grand story about himself. He is eerily cordial to the reporter as his skeptical gang is not sure whether he might order Nielson shot from across the table. In a powerfully tense scene, before the interview starts, Wilke sets the table by verbally flattening his skittish partner, Paul Richards, like a placemat—insulting his panic attack that ruined a previous robbery. Richards is seething with rage but has not yet decided how to retaliate. Their friendship has run its course. Nielson ultimately gets a story, but not the one he intended.

Most will note the familiar television lead actors in this unknown crime film, a film suggesting it has noir roots. A volunteer gang member, James Best, opens the film with his usual good old country boy flavor. He praises Wilke for his morale boost to the town. Nielson is adequate as a one-dimensional character. He was much “bigger” on the small screen during his dramatic era. Miller's career was sparse, as is her emotional range here. She is the weak link in the cast. The standout in the film, the aforementioned Richards, is the mentally unpredictable polar opposite of venerable film actor Jay C. Flippen, the level-headed veteran of the gang. Filming never attempts to capture Richards' menacing, aloof stare that was somewhat of his trademark in sinister roles. But what he does in wide-eyed pleasure about halfway into the film gets everyone's attention. It is the only shocking moment in this dialogue-heavy film. The genuine article is Edward Andrews, inhabiting his character as a sweaty sheriff.

This is probably the only film with two actors of the opposite sex named Leslie. For her uncredited role, Leslie Parrish plays an undefined character sitting on the floor, oddly clinging to Richards' leg in total devotion. IMBD dot com, for one, incorrectly identifies Parrish, giving her two different actresses' names.

Note: Directed by David Friedkin, this eighty-six-minute film did not return a profit. It would appear to be a television production with its low budget, flat camera work by Harold J. Marzorati, and highly visible actors of the period. The music is by André Previn, but the score remains, for the most part, anonymous. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer distributed the film. Today, it might be considered a lost treasure by younger viewers, not realizing Nielson did anything else but Lt. Frank Drebin.

BLUEPRINT FOR ROBBERY (1961)

Jerry Hopper directed a couple of notable films, including The Atomic City, Naked Alibi, and one notable for not being any better than the original, Never Say Goodbye. His talents were better served in the smaller medium, where he kept very, very busy. The film's screenplay is by Irwin Winehouse and A. Sanford Wolf, based on the 1950 Brinks' express office robbery in Boston. The eighty-seven-minute film was produced by Bryan Foy, with Paramount Pictures releasing this film with opening and closing “exposé” narration. 

Sandwiched in between his work on many popular shows was this film, a low-budget crime film where the heist's dry run to test the theft's feasibility is tediously slow. Seeing the British-born senior, J. Pat O'Malley—the film's legendary thief—scooting under electronic sensors on his stomach or back confirms this. Yet the film's focus on this tension is fairly captivating, and the music score by Van Cleave pays off throughout the film. The acting is first-rate, and I imagine the film garnered some talk over hot dogs after its premiere. In hindsight, this film remains unknown because of all the heist movies to follow. But those films owe a lot to this film, what with its smattering of humor and detailed-to-the-minute robbery plans. The robber's masks are creepy if not startling, and the robbery goes without a hitch. But the aftermath proves crime—during this era—does not pay. 

There is a brief humorous spot for television's future “Mrs. Cunningham,” Marion Ross (below), initiates a bit of levity early in the film. Barney comes to the prison dressed as a priest simply for easy entry to convince O'Malley—scheduled for release—to help in the robbery. Ross sits down beside him—both staring straight ahead—and she slowly inches closer as she tearfully confides in the man underneath the rental cloth about her marital “faux-pax” before visiting her incarcerated husband. Father Barney, taken aback, calmly musters up his best advice, which she takes to heart. Overhearing his assumed heartfelt consultation, the guard also puts his faith in the cloth on the man and unlocks the main door to the cells.

Counting up their tally after the getaway, they stole far less than anticipated, with some useless bonds and newly printed marked bills which simply have to be burned. So be it. With Gist's nerves at bay and the loot under his watch, he suggests Barney and Price lay low by taking a vacation. It is the turning point in the film. Not using his brain's full potential, Price decides to go into a sporting goods store after Barney tells him to stay in the car. He selects some fishing and hunting gear with no intention of paying. The greedy crook knocks out the salesman and heads back to the car as a policeman happens by and tries to convince the two about a great spot for camping. Out crawls the moaning salesman. The vacation (below) ends behind bars, though, being only an accessory, Barney would seem to be railroaded. Gist is unconcerned as he had figured they would be out in a few months. Not the three-year sentence handed down.

O'Malley rents a clerical robe to visit Barney. The scene follows through with an earlier established premise that the old mentor and the “son he never had” confide in each other. The old codger is soon questioned about his parole violation and his ill-fitting clerical collar. No one will ever call him a stool pigeon, and it looks like life behind bars. With good intentions, Barney does something unforgivable. Their falling out comprises the sensitive climax.

Note: There are no big-name film stars in this one, as if Hopper flipped through his Rolodex for some of his television connections. O'Malley is perhaps the most well-known for his numerous television roles. In kind, many Boomers would recognize Robert Wilke. What they may not recognize is that he is not a despicable Western outlaw, but a detective. Robert Gist, a frequent player in television westerns as well, particularly Have Gun - Will Travel—adds the only spark to the film outside Jay Barney. Barney spent an innocuous career on the tube. Another key player in the big heist is television actor, the furrow-browed Sherwood Price. Finishing out the television casting call is Robert Carricart, Joe Conley—later snagging a recurring role as Ike on The Waltons—and Henry Corden, more often than not in sitcoms with his trademark black, thick-framed glasses. Unseen, he carried on the voice of Fred Flintstone after Allen Reed's death.