THE STEEL LADY (1953)

Directed by Ewald André Dupont with a screenplay by Richard Schayer, one might suspect Aubrey Wisberg's story was the inspiration for Elleston Trevor's 1964 novel, The Flight of The Phoenix, and the 1965 box office failure. Both films center around crash-landing in the Sahara desert with at least one dissenter in the group and the customary limited food, water, no radio, and any rescue attempt taking too long for their survival. Something has to be improvised. Wisely, the Yuma desert filming got underway at the very end of the previous year. The similarities between this B-movie cast and the 1965 big-budget cast separate the two, but it is sometimes difficult to determine how much. Released by United Artists, it is a concise eighty-four minutes of adventure, produced and edited by Grant Whytock. Concise is not a word used to describe the extra hour added to the more implausible “Phoenix” film. The incredibly prolific Edward Small Productions again provides a movie without a dull moment. What Small did with limited budgets has rarely been equaled.

Heading up the four-man crew of American oil company employees in this film is Rod Cameron and Tab Hunter in his fourth film. Like today's many films or television series with a computer genius who saves everyone's bacon, Hunter nearly fits that role as an electronics expert. John Dehner and Cameron are at odds throughout the film, in light of the former's alcohol addiction. Always available for a few quips is Richard Erdman, the dependable guy with an eye in the opposite (sex) direction. His countenance before crash-landing, lower left below, is both one of inevitable doom and acceptance.

Perhaps, given the naive acceptance of the era's movie patrons—who were less critical about such things—one will need to ignore a few filming and editing shortcomings when viewed today, like the era's painted sandhills or studio backdrop screens. Perhaps most confusing here is the gear-up plane crash, burying the nose in a sandbank. By the next morning, there is a mound of sand piled around the main landing gear (sandbank), which clearly depicts the twin-engine Cessna T-50 in its tail-dragger stance. Then there is the bullet's cartoon ricochet effects off rocks and metal surfaces that sounds more like a metal spring has broken loose from its anchor. But I digress. Nearly every film made—no matter the budget—has something amiss in one detail or the other.

Cameron sets out over a ridge and spots an antenna flag poking above the sand that is connected to a buried World War II Nazi tank. Thinking it may provide them a way out of a dire situation, the crew digs out the sunken tank. They notice German wording on the side, translating into the film's title. After burying the mummified German duo, Hunter repairs their radio with parts from the tank's radio, but it only works long enough to tell their contact in Casablanca that they are alive.

All work together—even Dehner, for the most part—to get the tank mobile using the remaining gasoline from the plane. With zero options, Cameron must also use their remaining water for its radiator, a decision Dehner tries to thwart at gunpoint. Never get into a fistfight with square-jawed Cameron. Adding another element to the story is a satchel of jewels in a hidden storage compartment, a discovery that Dehner keeps to himself. Although there is more to the story than this, it is the same bejeweled tank Bedouin raiders have been trying to find since 1944—implausibly never spotting the flag or tank among the constantly shifting sands. The Bedouin leader, the Hersey-faced John Abbott, offers Cameron horses, pack camels, and water in exchange for the tank. “We love tank!” Amazingly, the foursome agrees to the exchange with none wondering what the desert dwellers could possibly do with a tank unless they fill it with water. Smelling an infestation of desert rats and having first-hand knowledge of the jewels, Dehner alerts Cameron to why the Bedouins are so generous. A shoot-out begins the next morning, with the tank escaping with only dents from the rifle's ammunition.

Note: There is more to the story, including an injured Hunter scrounging together parts to allow a last-ditch effort to send a distress signal, and a mortally wounded crew member who sacrificially holds off the raiders while the other crew gets rescued by another plane.

FILM BRAKE: A SYNDICATED DETECTIVE

 

CORONADO 9 (1960-61)

Suddenly it's 1940! Reminiscent of a twenty-year-old movie premise, this thirty-nine-episode syndicated series, produced by Revue Studios' shoestring budget, starred the popular Republic Pictures Western star, Rod Cameron. The Canadian-born actor played a former United States Navy intelligence officer who is now an always-in-demand private detective in this, his third and final law enforcement series. Business-savvy Cameron figured he would be better served financially by starring in another syndicated series. Producers may have hoped the no-nonsense Cameron would carry the series on the heels of his popular, long-running series, State Trooper. This show possessed nothing unique and even with an ideal time slot on either of the three major network's prime-time schedules, it would not have survived long.

The Navy provided a good pension. The show's title represents his phone exchange in the affluent suburb of San Diego where the iconic Hotel del Coronado got the attention of photographers. Owning the massive slab of Lincoln Continental that got about seven miles per gallon with a tailwind is another tip-off. He may reluctantly take on an investigation being a wee bit tired of dodging bullets, getting beaten up, or not trusting a client's motives.

Cameron's baritone voice provides narration to introduce his assignment—periodically informing the viewer of his progress—and typically wraps an episode to tie up any loose ends. His persona might not solicit Mike Hammer or Philip Marlowe, though one cannot help but like the towering star. A friend one could flawlessly reconnect with no matter how long the separation. Reconnecting with the receiving end of Cameron's fists is another matter. He has a permit to carry them. His stunt double can be quite obvious—ironic in that Cameron used to be one himself—in his younger days. It also explains why he is never winded after an intense fistfight. 

Not to be too harsh, television's number one action man—according to the series promo ads—did have a winning smile and could charm the ladies. He could also be a role model to the local lad looking for summer work swabbing his boat. Aside from the projected background shots, the San Diego filming adds flavor. Several episodes were well-directed and well-paced with a twist or two. But sixty years later, any twist may be untwisted sooner than later by a viewer. Some episodes climaxed with a chase up a stairway or on rare occasions, end with a touch of humor, sometimes at Cameron's expense. The writers generally did a pretty good job in an era of equally talky, and generally boring shows—Peter Gunn or Mr. Lucky come to mind. Coronado 9's first episode is particularly dull due to being filmed almost entirely in the confining space of his sailboat. A fun trivia journey for boomers may be the familiar guest stars, yet Revue's casting net was not wide, hiring actors with limited television credits.

Cameron's stalwart persona was perhaps better suited for holding reins than a steering wheel. The Ford Motor Company appears to have been a sponsor of the show. They were always convertibles because Cameron sat tall in the vinyl. With Cameron's start in Hollywood, his Western-style might be best associated with  Randolph Scott. If possible, imagine stalwart Scott as a modern-day private detective behind the wheel. Do not expect to see automobiles associated with the show's release date as the series began filming in 1958. Do not expect the ubiquitous music to be a signature element—unlike Peter Gunn—any more than the nondescript opening theme as Cameron scans the bay, guessing where he last anchored his boat.

Finally—it can be assumed—due to his Naval Intelligence years, “Dan Adams” had a deep social network that eventually took him from Coronado to strange, exotic locales around the globe as more adventurer than mere detective. Implausibly, it suggests everyone's only crime-solving choice had to be a somewhat weary fifty-year-old P.I. from California.

DOUBLE JEOPARDY (1955)

 

Stoically stiff, yet charmingly handsome, Rod Cameron plays a criminal attorney nearly engaged to Allison Hayes, whose father, a wealthy businessman played by John Litel, thinks highly of Cameron, personally and professionally. It is a good guy role for Cameron, with a short list of villains to his credit. Perhaps the director suggested that the brunette Hayes lighten her hair. The problem is that she and her equal-billed co-star, Gale Robbins, look similar in their opening scenes, sharing a hairstyle, facial structure, and figure. What separates the two is Robbin’s annoying character, an extremely deceptive and smart-aleck tart. Money is her only interest, not her former wealthy husband, Robert Armstrong. He has not worked in years since serving a prison term for a shady business deal with his former business partner, the aforementioned Litel. He now spends his idle hours consuming alcohol by the quart. That, and blackmailing Litel to keep their secret sealed. Enter problem child, Jack Kelly.

Kelly and Robbins are in a deceptive lust affair. They deserve each other. Kelly is a salesman for “Happy Harry’s” used car dealership. He is as greedy and unethical as they come, roles that were typical during his career. Portly Dick Elliott plays Harry, some years away from being a one-term Mayor of Mayberry. At Kelly’s suggestion, Robbins sweet-talks Armstrong into pressuring Litel for a second big payoff. Another dreaded phone call, and Litel meets Armstrong on their usual mountain overlook. But Litel has not brought any money; he has only rendezvoused with the extortionist to say he has had enough. Slime bag Kelly has been watching from afar, and after Litel drives away, he confronts Armstrong, demanding the assumed money. They argue, then Armstrong gets behind the wheel and attempts to drive off. Outside the passenger side of the car, Kelly impossibly pulls Armstrong away from the driver's side in a questionable bit of editing. Suddenly, Armstrong is in the passenger side with his right arm dangling out the side window. The car slowly rolls backward over a cliff. 'Twas the crash that killed the drunken beast.

Based on the specific tire tread pattern of his Rolls-Royce leading to the spot, Litel looks good for the murder. He finally admits his past about a failed financial deal for a new housing development. Investigating on his own, Cameron puts the idea into Robbins' head that Kelly planned to double-cross her and keep the money for himself. The two “love doves” drive to the scene of Armstrong’s demise to get the invisible money. Kelly's only plan is to silence loose lips.

This drama, with an oft-used title, was produced by Rudy Ralston and written by Don Martin for Republic Pictures. The veteran of many Republic westerns, R. G. Springsteen, directed this crime-mystery. It is a competent cast that elevates this familiar-themed film of extortion and lying characters—two Hollywood favorites. This very unknown film holds up well enough for seventy minutes. Taking out footage for commercials, it could have been a perfect fit for an Alfred Hitchcock Hour television episode.

Note: Late in the film, Cameron begins suspecting Kelly is surely guilty of something and poses a few questions to Elliot. Covering for Kelly, the attorney gets the run-around. Fed up and realizing there will be no straight answers, Cameron sarcastically deadpans, "Well, are you happy, Harry?"

PASSPORT TO TREASON (1956)

This eighty-minute, Mid-Century Film Productions movie was released in America by Astor Pictures Corporation. Both are as forgettable as the film itself. It is one dark film, perhaps because the budget never allowed for any studio lighting. Though a fairly intelligent script, the film still generates a lot of fog.

At the height of his career, popular Western and television star Rod Cameron gets work overseas in modern-day London. The Candian-born actor's stoic persona and physical presence add credence as the lone American in this British film. His stiff, deadpan delivery never lights up the screen, however. A slow start might make you fast forward but there is no need. There is always a change of pace and the film climaxes right at the end, as low-budget movies tend to do. Not a lot of action, but the brief fistfight sound effects, however, suggest each blow completely crushes every facial bone of the opponent. A few years before her famous James Bond role, Lois Maxwell works for MI-5 to assist Cameron. She obviously had connections.

Cameron is the detective out to discover the hidden purpose of a peace organization. As to be expected, he is captured and given a truth serum to reveal what he knows. Also expected, he manages to escape at night, stealing a car to get away. Funny to think the influence of the serum made him weave erratically from lane to lane. In reality, he may actually be forgetting which side of the road to drive on.

Night scenes mostly cover a lot of potential editing mistakes and it is plenty dark. The film slightly brightens at the end. Still, it plays out more like an early Forties mystery. There is nothing intense and it is all quite familiar.