THE SNIPER (1952)

Distributed by Columbia Pictures and produced by Stanley Kramer, this thriller was directed by Edward Dmytryk. It is based on the Oscar-nominated story by Edna and Edward Anhalt and concerns mental illness and the authorities arguing how best to deal with a serial killer in San Francisco. Why he kills is rather quickly explained in cliched form, but finding him is the difficult part. The film opens with descriptive text against a black screen to explain the serious subject matter that will unfold.

Beginning at the very end of the Forties, Arthur Franz had the distinction of never being uncredited. The versatile, under-the-radar actor had numerous supporting and lead film roles to his credit, despite being cast in some "poverty row" productions. But it may be his frequent exposure on television that most remember him as "what's his name." He does a fine job here as a nervously sweating and sensitive individual who is an uncomfortable liar. He owns this movie. He is desperate to have someone help stop his obsession with killing women. A few do treat him badly, or he is irritated by the flirty type. He apparently does not want to get caught, though, because he has opportunities to surrender himself but does not. Hence, the eighty-eight-minute running time.

Heading up the investigation are Adolphe Menjou, surely not far from retirement, and radio's Gerald Mohr. They have a certain on-screen chemistry that helps support the film. Mohr's low-key performance is a welcome change from his typical smirking characters. Richard Kiley is excellent in his second film as a psychology professor. For such a tall actress, Marie Windsor has probably her shortest role ever. After making his delivery, she asks Franz to take a favorite dress back to the dry cleaners. When it is ready for delivery the next day, she will not be able to ever wear it again. This is the first incident where he might have given himself up by taking the delivery to the police, then getting the help he needs. Instead, he shreds the dress in anger.

In an effort to punish himself for his despicable acts, Franz holds his hand on a circular, electric oven burner. The doctors know he did not accidentally do this, considering the severity of the burn. One suggests they keep him there for observation. But a series of emergencies delays those plans. Franz is upset that he was released so quickly. He will only get attention after making the headlines again. Kiley suggests to a “myopic four” confronting the mayor that these people should be locked up—if you can find them—on their first offense to keep them off the streets or to get the mental help they need. If only everyone were in support. The arrogant dunderheads in the room disagree and take the easy route by blaming the police for doing nothing.

Leading up to the climax, Franz is on a rooftop and about to shoot another brunette. He breaks down instead. Spotted by a painter high up on an industrial chimney, he tries to get people street-level to notice the shooter. He even tosses a gallon of white paint, “exploding” it on the street below. No one sued the paint company for getting a spot of paint on their shoes. I digress. Franz cannot understand why he is being harassed. His "angry rifle" turns to the soon-to-be slumping painter. He runs back to his apartment, wanting to get caught on his own terms. Alive. It is a calm ending as police enter his apartment to find Franz hugging his rifle vertically as the camera slowly zooms in on his face and a weeping eye.

Note: During fake phone call pauses, listening to the "other side," almost everyone says, "What?" at some point. Not very realistic, yet often done, with apparently a bad connection or the person should see a hearing specialist. Another item of note is the silly filler scene in a precinct lineup in an effort to identify the serial killer. The detective questioning the suspects seemed to enjoy humiliating them to the humorous delight of the officers in attendance. There are lots of familiar B-movie faces in this film, many in uncredited roles. One such is Byron Foulger, the perennial jittery weasel, one of those questioned.

NIGHT TRAIN TO MUNICH (1940)

This British thriller is directed by Sir Carol Reed and distributed by 20th Century Fox, opening in America at the end of 1940. The screenplay was written by Sidney Gilliat and Frank Launder, based briefly on a Gordon Wellesley short story. The film centers on the Nazis in occupied Prague prior to the Second World War. It stars Margaret Lockwood, Rex Harrison in a dual role, and Paul Henreid. Reprising their railway roles from The Lady Vanishes two years prior, are Naunton Wayne and Basil Radford as the same characters, Caldicott and Charters—insatiable cricket fans. The film's comparison to the 1938 Hitchcock film, at nearly the same length, is rather obvious, though Lockwood plays a different character.

The ninety-five-minute film is full of sophisticated British suspense, starting with the kidnapping of Lockwood on her way to join her father, an invaluable industrial designer, for their escape by plane back to England. She befriends a fellow concentration camp prisoner, Henreid. This sets up the first of two twists in the film as they escape to England in darkness while a German officer cuts the power to the prison's searchlight. How convenient. After settling in, Henreid visits an optometrist who asks him to read an eye test chart. He reads the large letters wrong, twice, to confirm their Nazi contact code. They salute and poke each other in the eye.

Lockwood does not know the whereabouts of her father. She receives a call and is told where to meet her contact, Harrison, posing as a side-show vendor trying to sell his songwriting abilities by singing his tunes. With Harrison's introduction, the film not only improves but cranks up the suspense. It rarely subsides. His rapid-fire speech rolls off his tongue effortlessly. He seems delightfully fond of himself. The second twist is that he, thankfully, is not a singer as Lockwood later chides him about, but an undercover British agent who helped arrange her father's return to England. But Lockwood and her father are duped by Henreid and kidnapped aboard a German U-boat. Her opinion of Henreid is forever altered.

Harrison springs into action posing as a German Major, who convinces the German officials that his “past relationship” with Lockwood will convince her to get her father's co-operation. There are some humorous deliveries between them as the "happy couple" appear set for matrimony. Henreid's suspicions during this charade are realized, and arresting Harrison in Munich is his directive. Caldicott & Charters to the rescue.

While inadvertently listening on a party line, Charters discovers Henreid's plan and contacts Harrison, whom Caldicott finally is convinced it is, in fact, his British friend. They become part of Harrison's altered plan, subduing two Nazi officers (off camera), though feeling quite conspicuous in their uniforms. They become Harrison's escorts to get them, Lockwood, and her father to freedom in Switzerland. Though expertly done for the era, there are numerous miniatures used throughout the film, the mountaintop tramway climax being the last. Trust your suspension of disbelief for the endless supply of bullets from the revolvers of Harrison and Henreid. The escape above a deep chasm peaks the film at the right moment and instantly closes the film. In fact, the film fades to black before the characters exit the scene.

Note: The Australian poster above indicates that Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer released the film as well.

HANDS OF A STRANGER (1962)

A promising concert pianist, James Stapleton, loses the use of his hands when they are thrust through the glass of a taxicab during a low-speed crash. The viewer must assume the glass used is the same as that from a kitchen window. His hands are a mangled mess of flesh and bone. Not a scratch on his face, by the way. Truly a one-of-a-kind accident. Therapy is not an option. He receives a groundbreaking double hand transplant from the hands of a recent murder victim. Do not get ahead of me. Lead surgeon Paul Lukather declares the operation a success. At least he has hands that inhabit normal living. But the pre-owned hands cannot discern black keys from white. In fact, both hands seem to have a brain of their own, completely taking control of the pianist's psyche. 

More murder mystery than horror, if the title or its miscategorized genre does not explain the premise, the first fifteen minutes will. Then settle in for the less-than-thrilling outcome. Distributed by Allied Artists Pictures—uh-oh!—it is a routine attempt to bamboozle an audience, preferably at a drive-in. The best part of this one-hundred-seventy-grand film may be the marvelous opening and subsequent scenes by photographer Henry Cronjager, Jr. The piano concert music score throughout by Richard LaSalle is appropriately used. One may spot some familiar television faces, but it may be difficult to put a name to them. Also unknown at the time was Sally Kellerman, whose film fame was only proportionately longer than her script here. There are solid, sensitive performances by the three leads, however. If it were possible at the time, this movie might have gone straight to DVD.

In Stapleton's distress, the blame lies entirely with the surgeon. His older sister, Joan Harvey, agrees. She hysterically believes the surgeon wanted personal glory for doing hand transplants. Talk to the hand! Her over-the-top performance during this scene made me wish I could be transplanted to another room. One expects a murder rampage will work its way into the film's eighty-five minutes. Hands down, this is the main reason for its theatrical release. No real point going into detail about how or who, but know that Stapleton's script calls for him to kill—accidentally or on purpose—repeatedly thanks to those clunky criminal mind hands. The violence is only alluded to with any gore, unnecessary since most victims were killed by hand. He sets his sights on the doctor who assisted in the surgery and presumably will get around to the rest of the medical staff in due course if he survives the film.

The ending is what one would expect. We find Stapleton in a vacant, echoing concert hall as Harvey and Lukather arrive and spot his latest victim. After a few disparaging remarks, Stapleton begins pounding on the keyboard—something he never excelled at before—proving that his future may likely include boxing.