BATTLE TAXI (1955)

Directed by Herbert Strock, with a screenplay by Malvin Wald, this black-and-white aviation film was distributed by United Artists. The production company was Ivan Tors Productions. Between footage of slow-moving helicopters, interspersed with some cliched human interaction on the ground, this is not an edge-of-your-seat combat film. Blurry, stock Korean War footage is inserted, signaling a low-budget, spliced-together effort. It is well-acted, and that saves it from being a total loss of eighty-two minutes. That, and filming the aircraft of the era. Historical aviation buffs will get their blood flowing with the high-speed flyovers of the North American F-86 Sabre Jets and F-51s, plus stock footage of F-80s, SA-16A Albatross, an RB-45 Tornado, and the Boeing SB-29 air-sea rescue aircraft. The Sikorsky H-19 Chickasaw helicopters are the lifeblood of the film. All of which gives authenticity to a film lacking any thrilling action. Perhaps determining which would sell more tickets, a fighter jet or a helicopter, the art director chose the former for the above poster. Once again, misleading a potential audience.

The film's most famous actor is Sterling Hayden, followed by the competent Arthur Franz and Marshall Thompson. The script allows for the occasional subtle humor between these three, and that helps. Hayden is the no-nonsense commander of an Air Rescue helicopter team during the Far East conflict. He is a thorn in the side of Franz, a hot-shot fighter pilot who has been thrust into piloting a cumbersome "air taxi" due to a shortage of rescue pilots. Ignoring direct orders, he takes it upon himself to delay a North Korean tank from pounding soldiers on his first mission. His co-pilot, Thompson, is not comfortable with the surprises that await him. Franz circles the tank twice as Thompson drops smoke bombs to hinder the enemy's visibility. Though the unauthorized maneuver does help the situation, distancing the soldiers from the tank, sparks fly when Hayden comes down hard on Franz for multiple reasons.

Angry with Hayden's by-the-book approach, Franz begs to be transferred to a fighter squadron where he can better use his skills. Instead, with everything he can muster, Hayden will drive home the importance of air rescue until he champions its cause. Not yet willing to accept his “whirlybird” limitations on a subsequent mission, Franz dangerously goes after a pilot stranded in enemy territory with low fuel reserves. The rescue is aborted after the downed pilot is gunned down while being hoisted up. He risks everything, confidently announcing they will find fuel along the way. A disabled military truck provides some extra fuel. But Franz is seriously wounded as they depart, leaving Thompson to fly back to base. Burning gasoline damages the engine, and his H-19 will take extra hours to fix.

Rather than pinning Franz to the wall verbally, Hayden volunteers him to speak to the fighter jockeys if or when they might need rescuing. The H-19 is at their service and the rescue team's top priority. Though awkward for him, it is a turning point in Franz's perspective.

There is a rather nifty sequence to divert a small band of North Korean troops away from the Americans. Piloting his "battle taxi," Hayden's co-pilot sets off a smoke flare that suggests the Korean's have struck the aircraft's engine. A bit of authentically faked maneuvering, he sets down the H-19 in an open field and opens the engine compartment. Aware that the enemy is running in his direction, he closes the engine compartment once shots ring out. The helicopter quickly rises and disappears, moving the enemy further away for safety.

Note: There was stiff war movie competition during the same year as this B-movie. It was arguably Raoul Walsh's Battle Cry that gained the most attention. Other combat films of note were To Hell and Back, Blood Alley, Mister Roberts, and the British production of The Dam Busters. Battle Taxi has therefore become a film to chronicle Hayden's career. The film is a pretty good effort as an “also-ran.”

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.

NAKED ALIBI (1954)

This Universal International Pictures release may give you the impression it is a sequel to either Crime Wave or The Big Heat. Two of its main stars play similar roles here. In short, we have seen this one numerous times. You will need to overlook the typical sets, a dubbed vocal and an erratic plot. The eighty-six-minute film was directed by Jerry Hopper and produced by Ross Hunter, both of whom had numerous television projects to their credit. Sterling Hayden is once again a wooden police lieutenant. Unsympathetic. Strictly business. He is bent on pinning a policeman’s murder on Gene Barry. Sympathizers of Barry believe it is nothing more than police harassment. But “Dirty Hayden” has issues. He is caught on camera roughing up Barry. The photo is published. He is fired. But he is convinced Barry is no good. He sets out to find him on a dark and grimy Mexico studio set.

Barry, the debonair owner of a local bakery, also frequents Mexico on “business trips” to reconnect with bad girl and nightclub singer, Gloria Grahame—the actress with a permanent fever-blistered upper lip appearance because of her towering Philtrum ridges and pronounced Cupid's Bow—to say nothing of her slight overbite with noticeable, tiny "Esses." Barry is not the innocent flour thrower we were led to believe. She gets roughed up by Barry, depending on his temperament, but nothing like her devastating scene in the aforementioned The Big Heat. Given Grahame’s earlier roles she should have seen this coming.

As the mundane script plays out, you get the distinct feeling Hayden has got a hold of something besides Grahame. You may actually end up liking him. As for the title, Barry's alibi is the bakery. Once he is apprehended he reveals himself, so to speak, to be a gangster. Naked to the underworld. I suppose.

CRIME WAVE (1954)

This taut film is a good one of the era. Plenty of Los Angeles location filming help carry off the believability factor with all the Ford Motor Company offerings one can handle. A world-weary, disgruntled, and toothpick-chewing Sterling Hayden plays a detective without much compassion. He had just played a policeman in the action-thriller, Suddenly, in which any tender piece of dialogue with his love interest is delivered with the sensitivity of a television defense attorney. Hayden's studio prop “driving” is hilarious. Staring out the windshield unconsciously, mesmerized by traffic as the car and steering column rocks back and forth in repetition. The GIF below works great with the Steely Dan hit, "Peg."

Once again Ted De Corsia plays a mobster. After release from prison his latest robbery scheme pressures former cellmate, Gene Nelson, to join in. Now going legit, Nelson wants no part of it. But after his wife’s life is held accountable he plays along for her safety. And with clever end results. Phyllis Kirk plays the wife, here reunited with her co-star from, House of Wax, though by now renamed Charles Bronson. Though a small part, Bronson is solid in another of his early performances. Timothy Carey’s uncredited role as “Johnny” is about as creepy as it gets. His cult status character has significant mental and emotional problems. He almost seems out of place in the film since we have no connection to him before he just shows up in the last third of the film. And he is unforgettable. In the end, there is a beating heart inside Hayden and understands Nelson’s motive for eluding the authorities.

Note: The production values and strong cast propel this film up several rungs of the B-movie ladder. Directed by Andre DeToth and produced by Bryan Foy, the eldest of the "Seven Little Foys," this seventy-three-minute film was inspired by the "The Saturday Evening Post" story, "Criminal Mark," by John and Ward Hawkins. It was distributed by Warner Brothers. Hats off to Bert Glennon for his great cinematography.