SUDDENLY (1955)

Directed by Lewis Allen, with a screenplay by Richard Sale from his 1943 story, Active Duty, this film was distributed by United Artists. Hardly unknown to anyone with access to the Internet or a Sinatra fan, the crooner capitalizes on his Oscar performance the year before. He is riveting as a big-shot contract killer whose self-imposed bravado in World War II does not quite ring true. My essay goes into more detail than usual to highlight the good aspects and call attention to some gullible moments. Based on today's film buff familiarity, spoiler alerts are unnecessary. The premise falls into the noir slot because of the content. Do not expect dark, shadowy visuals in the sunny California desert.

In his second credited film role, television’s Paul Wexler plays a deputy sheriff who opens the movie with a wooden delivery and bass voice belying such a narrow guy. He gets the film off to a shaky B-movie start with an attempt at local humor about the town's name to a motorist. However, the film quickly gathers momentum as David Raksin’s score fires up. His complex composition during the opening bars features soaring brass and dissonant strings suggesting something is about to happen. The score quickly shifts to represent a bustling small town. In a slice of chaotic realism, the railroad telegraph operator interprets a top-secret message of national significance. Caught off guard by the urgency, he habitually blurts, 'Good. Night. Shirt!' I like his creative use of words. For those under fifty, "nightshirts" were essentially knee-length T-shirts to sleep in.

Co-starring in the film is Sterling Hayden, the chief of police who knows instinctively what to do. Anytime. The Secret Service arrives, headed by the ever-present Willis Bouchey, who coordinates with local officials to make the President's stopover secure. He is surprised to learn that his old boss, James Gleason, lives nearby and would like to see him. Gleason's on-screen daughter and grandson, played by Nancy Gates and Kim Charney respectively, live with him. Her son and Hayden get along quite well. The boy has his eye on a toy gun inside a window display—Gates will have none of it—to pretend he is Hayden or his grandpa, a former Secret Service agent for President Coolidge. A grieving war widow, Gates despises guns and is hesitant to move on with any new relationship. The film's believability is at an all-time high at this point.

FASTEN YOUR SUSPENDED DISBELIEF SEAT BELT

Sinatra, along with his accomplices, Christopher Dark, and actor/voice-over artist, Paul Frees, arrive at Gleason's house ahead of schedule with phony FBI credentials. Gleason wonders what the FBI is doing on this type of assignment. As Hayden and Bouchey approach, the trio hides in an adjoining room. Out pops 'ol Blue Eyes with Bouchey going for his gun, who is the first to go down. Hayden takes a bullet in the arm, breaking a bone, which needs to be reset. He asks the smirking Sinatra to do it but he replies, 'You couldn’t take it.' Hayden insists. Sinatra, sensing a gruesome delight coming his way tells him, 'Hold on brave boy.' One hard yank and a smile erupts. Not a peep out of Hayden. A little man in every sense of the word, Hayden sizes him up pretty quickly. It is interesting to note the size difference between the two when standing toe to toe. Surely a subliminal message.

Perhaps overlooked in editing or simply badly staged, the house, when viewed from the depot, appears to be about an eighth of a mile up a hillside. But viewed from the house, the depot is directly across the tracks! Sinatra was counting on a wooden table to screw to the floor and provide stability for his scoped rifle. Instead, he has to settle on Gleason’s metal table. Considering how close Sinatra is to the depot, a scope will be useless. Lazy Frees whines about the hassle of bolting everything down. He suggests that a “Tommy” gun would work just as well. Here is a guy who knows the distance to the depot. Like Tonto to his Lone Ranger, Frees is told to go into town and see what is happening. He whines. Frees gets questioned by Wexler, loses his cool and the deputy gets wounded. The coward does not get far, groaning and whining as he goes down from, ironically, one of his beloved “Tommy” guns.

Gleason was in the process of fixing his television but ended up calling their local repairman. Using his past field training, he sets up the exciting climax by suggesting the clueless repairman clamp the wires—the 5,000-volt ones—to the metal table for better “reception.” Sinatra seems annoyed by all the background electronic gibberish. Gleason fakes an angina attack with the grandson fetching his pills in the next room. After grabbing the pills, the lad swaps his toy gun for Gleason's real one. The geezer “accidentally” spills his cup of water on the floor near the metal table. The shallow puddle goes unnoticed. Dark, who just prior wanted to call the whole thing off and make a run for it, (suddenly) is excited to view the shot through the gun’s scope. He will get a microscopic view of a Philips head screw in the depot's sign! With his soles sufficiently wet and the rifle gripped, his soul is sent into the afterlife. His involuntary reflexes repeatedly pull the trigger and their location is no longer a secret. Sinatra sees the sparks, yanks off the clamp, pushes dead Dark out of the way, and rapidly steps up to the rifle in fear of missing the shot. Hayden throws a heavy ceramic ashtray at Sinatra’s spine, and then Charney, the little pistol, takes an errant shot. He tosses the revolver across the carpet.

Not phased by all the personal attention from the rear, Sinatra grins, suggesting he is locked in, ready to fire. Except the train does not intend to stop thanks to a stool pigeon's tip about the assassination plot. Had it stopped, all passengers would have been hidden from his view by exiting from the opposite side of the coach! His face goes into shock. The scene sets up beautifully delivered lines for Sinatra. In utter bewilderment, almost to tears realizing his moment of glory is gone, he hesitantly and quietly says, 'It didn’t stop. It. Didn’t. Stop.' He quickly pivots, facing the center of the room, and shouts, 'It didn’t stop!' Gates delivers an accurate second bullet (suddenly) realizing a gun can be a crime deterrent.

Note: Though not flawless as noted, it is seventy-five minutes well spent in Suddenly, California. Visually it is a time capsule of small-town America, the storefronts and their interiors, the vehicles, and the Southern Pacific Railroad. It was an era when a U.S. President made a stop, it was a rare and special event. As a testament to the era, early in the movie, Hayden asks Gates if he can pick her up for church on Sunday. Try suggesting that for any modern action movie. Incidentally, after the television is fixed, it is Paul Frees’ voice-over calling the fake baseball play-by-play.

LIPPERT PICTURES SERIES

Robert L. Lippert controlled a successful low-budget American film production and distribution company from 1948 to 1956, producing short, fast-paced westerns and crime films with a penchant for obligatory humor and the occasional jarring edits. This is my first of seven Lippert films.

RADAR SECRET SERVICE (1950)

Suppressing counterfeit currency was the Secret Service's primary objective in 1865. In future decades, its service expanded to other areas. But few anticipated—nor actually considered—radar. So forget G-men. The R-men are really on to something, cracking down on California crime one telemeter at a time. The opening voice-over excitedly points out that radar's potential is “beyond belief.” For this film, I have to agree. As confirmation, the radar operator back at headquarters tells his boss they located a school of fish by radar that resulted in an unbelievable catch of the day. This potential I could believe, though it has no relevance in this movie. But there were those who could imagine all sorts of useful things it could do in true science fiction fashion—live images in the fashion of a highway webcam. The relayed picture quality is undeniably excellent, as if the movie studio provided the footage. Similarly, how their stationary telemeters could possibly keep pace with a passing vehicle is a total mystery. Merely a minor issue to work out.

One could not be blamed if this sixty-one-minute film was thought to be originally a four-part serial from the Thirties. It possesses a cast of “who knew” B-movie actors, including John Howard as an agent of the Secret Radar Service (RSS) lobbying for more funds to expand the use of telemeters across the United States. That knee-jerk action is similar to suggesting that enough charging stations will make electric vehicles viable for the masses in three years. Tom Neal and Tristram Coffin—known to law enforcement as the mustachioed Mickey & Michael—star as uneasy partners trying to intercept a shipment of Uranium-238 they hope to transport across the Pacific Ocean. Coffin never reveals his master plan, but one can assume he will sell it to the highest bidder and probably double-cross Neal.

Robert “B-movie” Kent is the gang's enforcer. Too bad, he looked like such a nice young man. Returning famously in another devious typecast role is the soft Adele Jergens, girlfriend to Neal or Coffin, whichever works best into her future. Myrna dull—er, Dell—plays a waitress involved with a member of the “U-Gang.” Her boyfriend is recovering in a hospital from a gunshot wound from an earlier RSS raid. Angry because the gang leaders are not willing to help him, she eventually goes under the radar to help the RSS. Adding wacky levity to the gang is Lippert's own Sid Melton with the moniker “Pill Box.” He is convinced his perpetual illness results from blood pressure “at a 140 net” and his “blow pressure is with a hypertension” and his “temperature is by the arrow Fahrenheit.” One wonders who vouched for the hypochondriac.

The headquarters use their radar to find the car carrying the radioactive material. To their dismay, Coffin had the incomprehensible idea of sending out a decoy car. Drat! Their horizontal radar beam has its limitations. A fragile-looking Hiller 360 helicopter is employed to track fleeing criminals from above during a yawning chase with cars “rocketing” down the highway at nearly twenty miles per hour. The helicopter was a marvel during this period, but it would not be long before it would mock radar's usefulness as a crime-fighting resource. The two gangs meet in the California countryside just as the radar patrol arrives. It becomes a trilogy of gunfire. A wounded Neal manages to make it to Coffin's hideout for a final confrontation. More mayhem ensues as the armed waitress also arrives. The film ends with preparations being made for two additional coffins. 

Note: This is probably one of the silliest premises from Lippert Pictures, again directed by Sam Newfield. The “1940” worn-out screenplay was written by Beryl Sachs—his last of five films—but I appreciated his take on Melton's character, though misplaced it may be in this “action-packed thriller.”