THE LAS VEGAS STORY (1952)

Howard Hughes puts his trademarks on this eighty-eight-minute RKO Radio Pictures film, what with the flying sequences and microscopic closeups of his leading lady. A hardly unknown film, it lost money at the box office. However, with the pairing of Victor Mature and Jane Russell, it is hard to ignore. Despite some inferior projects, Mature never embarrassed himself. He is his usual flawless self, yet his co-star, Vincent Price, takes a back seat to no one. Throw in Hoagy Carmichael and you have the potential for fine entertainment. It was directed by Robert Stevenson and required the trio of Robert Sparks, Howard Hughes, and Samuel Bischoff to produce it.

With similar “dangerous” facial features, testy pout, and a noteworthy sneer, Russell may remind one of the female Elvis. She could hardly be called flat except for her adequate acting and one-dimensional delivery here. Her eyes are generally expressionless and her potentially witty comebacks are not as pointed as in the superior, His Kind of Woman, a year earlier, with Robert Mitchum. Nonetheless, she had one of the most beautiful smiles in Hollywood. But lately, those smiles only happen when she is around Happy, played by Carmichael, the casino pianist. Thanks to his delivery, he lightens the film considerably, if not frequently. His opening narration sets up the background for the film's stars. Hoagy's folksy tone of a “country cool cat” is endearing. He performs an early “rap” song, “The Monkey Song.” The difference with his rap is that he uses an actual melody. The 1938 song, “I Get Along Without You Very Well” is reused for this film. Russell is filmed only from the waist up while singing, providing another comparison to Elvis. But with Hughe's opposite intentions.

Russell's husband, Price, insists on vacationing in Las Vegas, determined to play the tables in hopes of winning enough to pay his debts. He is decidedly a character with selfish motives. Russell preferred a flight anywhere else from fears of running into her old flame, Mature, now a lieutenant with the Sheriff's Department. Throughout most of the film, he and Russell get along without each other very well due to their parting years before, the result of poor communication skills. Russell's 100 grand necklace becomes Price's gambling collateral with the casino owner attempting to secure it. Getting off the same flight as the newlyweds is "Mr. Smarmy" himself, Brad Dexter. He has been assigned by his insurance company to watch Price and Russell's neckli...uh...necklace. Dexter slimes into the dark side about halfway through the film.

The climax, filmed at the former Tonopah Army Airfield, was the first car and helicopter chase sequence in a movie. Flying twice through an open hanger was a groundbreaking sequence and I imagine amazed the audience. Dexter's useless driving around in circles in his attempt to evade the helicopter is pretty silly. The foot chase between him and Mature is a high-wind final confrontation yet typical of the era. Price is no longer a murder suspect but is found guilty of embezzlement to please the audience. An appropriate wrap to the film. But wait. It is not quite over. After two murders, theft, and an extended chase scene, one might not expect to have another song thrown in. Written for this film and Mature's character, “My Resistance Is Low” is an okay Carmichael song but hard to sit through because of Russell's syrupy delivery and slurred esses. I digress. There will be divorce papers to sign and assuming they can keep their personal blowups restrained, Russell and Mature may roll the dice one more time. Viva Las Vegas!

DANGEROUS MISSION (1954)

There is no faulting the cast of this colorful B-movie with A-list actors produced by RKO Radio Pictures. Outside of these stars, its main claim to fame might be an early effort by disaster film giant, Irwin Allen. The other fame claim is its use of 3D processing which may have elicited a few oohs and ahhs. In whatever dimension it is not hard to recognize the early Fifties RKO touches. Back-projected scenes and less than realistic special effects. It would appear most of the money was doled out for the cast. Which was a wise move. At the peak of his career, Victor Mature gets top billing, followed by Piper Laurie, William Bendix and RKO's go-to man, Vincent Price.

While working in New York City, Laurie stumbles upon the murder of a mobster. She hits the rails to Chicago, and I assume transfers onto the Great Northern Railway's “Empire Builder” and gets a job at the Glacier National Park gift shop. Who could possibly find her there? Mature, for one, who descends rather quickly after her arrival. His suave demeanor, pants with no rear pockets, and those wonderful eyebrows are attractive to Laurie. She is also fond of Price, who is doing his best impression of a sincere amateur photographer. He arrived before Mature and has already established a budding relationship with Laurie. Both are gentlemen as each trade date nights with fairness and civility. Her dangerous mission is to stay alive until the end of the film as the authorities want her to testify. Never mind the silly subplot involving Price's ever-fawning Indian maiden, Betta St. John, who is evidently from the local "naive tribe."

The title is broad in meaning. Though there is really only one character who fits the title best, the dangerous moments do present some interruptions. All of which have more to do with the producer's plan than the plot. Like so many current movies or television dramas, Irwin Allen assumes the viewer has the attention span of a gnat. There is an avalanche during a party in the mountains. A party essentially intended to further introduce characters to square dancing. The crushing avalanche brings down a power line. Mature does not hesitate to climb one utility pole to curtail a dangerous live wire in the likes of Angus MacGyver. He did this frequently as a Marine. Apparently. Then there is a forest fire in which untrained civilians, Mature and Price, are forced into fighting by a stuffed uniformed ranger, Bendix. Though not particularly dangerous, there is a frame-eating Indian ceremony to perhaps capture Montana's heritage or bump up tourism for the coming summer.

Note: The opening and early scenes set the viewer up for a potential crowd-pleaser. The cast is entirely responsible for this potential, though I found Laurie rather one-dimensional and bland. Overall, the movie's pacing is good at holding your attention thanks to the "hair-raising" sequences. Outside of these scenes, it is a routine adventure/drama. The ending, amid sets with glacier paint and studio lighting, brings few surprises though it is fairly exciting with hidden, snow-covered, crevasses. By this point most viewers had already chosen the cast member they hoped would not survive a fall into an icy abyss. 

THE LONG HAUL (1957)

This film opens ominously late at night behind a contemporary, driving score with modern fonts. It has the intriguing feel of a possible Cold War drama. An Army truck comes to a halt near London and out pops Victor Mature with his trademark countenance of superior sarcasm. His momentary heavy eyelids are not from an all-night drive. This will be his last delivery for the U.S. Army and with his discharge sets his sights back on returning to America. His British wife would rather stay put to raise their family. After a moment of heated discussion, Mature realizes staying put is best for their marriage.

His lorry driving comes to an abrupt end, through no fault of his own, after an incident places Mature on Britain’s “do not call list.” Desperate for living money he gets involved with a smuggling operation run by Patrick Allen. Allen’s girl, Diana Dors, has been under his control for some time. He treats her like any of his property. Keeping her looking cheap is anything but. In an intense exchange, she walks out on him and hides in Mature’s lorry. Mature opens the driver’s door and the arrangement is not to his liking. She insists on going to any place else. She prefers a mature man much to Allen’s ire and they begin an on-again, off-again affair with Mature’s marriage taking the brunt.

Always scheming, Allen wants to complete a money-making long haul of hot furs and a sizable cash reward persuades Mature to drive. The middle seat is cushioned by Dors. How the three of them continue to get along is a wonder. The time-sensitive delivery through forest and mountain shortcuts is exciting with literal cliffhangers at every turn. They cross a stream but get stuck on the embankment coming out. While Mature is trying to free up a wheel, Allen diabolically lets the lorry roll backward, hoping to mash Mature. A fistfight ensues with neither actor appearing to use a stunt double as they slosh around the water's edge. Allen is hit by a sliding container from the truck bed and then smothered under a mountain of falling fur boxes and drowns.

After delivering some soggy furs to the cargo ship on time, Mature and Dors take a cab back to town. Their route back was the better one for that fur delivery in hindsight. She begs him to run away with her. The money he got from the long haul is meant for his wife as a final goodbye gesture. Dors delivers it and his wife delivers a slap across her face. Dors overhears talk of Mature’s son’s health (an earlier blow to the head from a fall has turned serious) but she is hesitant to mention it upon reentering the cab, which is a pretty low-down. He knew nothing of the illness and would not leave his wife and son despite his impending arrest. Dors returns to her nightclub gig and all live not so happily ever after.

Mature was more than halfway down the slope of his long-haul career and with a couple exceptions, this might be his best late-career serious role. It is hard to fault him in any of his prior projects, where he usually dominated the screen. Although at times self-deprecating about his career, he turns in a solid performance for a script that takes its time to unravel. Dors’ acting and vocal range cannot be faulted. She seems out of place in a crude trucker's cafe. Like burning magnesium, she is not hard to spot. Most posters used her image as a catalyst for ticket sales.

Note: Hollywood continued churning out this tired premise of the weak male having an affair. They have left out the weak part since, suggesting it is inevitable behavior. Guilt is still a conscience bender in late Fifties Hollywood.

VIOLENT SATURDAY (1955)

The early, low-budget Richard Fleischer movies were noted for realism through location shooting and in-car cameras, giving credence to the scripts. Violent Saturday has the realism front covered, but this time with a larger budget worthy of the then-popular CinemaScope. Hiring Hugo Friedhofer to do the score settles the issue. From the pivotal opening scene of the obligatory bus arrival, Fleischer does not let your attention wander. Cameras weave in, out, up, and down, setting up scenes and characters with no loss of continuity. Ideal for CinemaScope. It is not without its faults, as a few sequences may generate a few chuckles in the truest soap opera sense. There is at least one illogical scene that tests the suspension of disbelief in you. The script involves a myriad of character subplots, not unlike many of today's television dramas. But the film is first-rate.

Speaking of first-rate, Victor Mature gets top billing. An obvious assumption based on his leading roles over the past decade. His supporting cast is equally strong, including up-and-comers Lee Marvin and Ernest Borgnine. Along with stalwarts J. Carrol Naish and Stephen McNally are Sylvia Sidney and Virginia Leith. They even managed to work in Brad Dexter as his smarmy self. Richard Egan has a major role as the mining company CEO and is in charge of the soap opera element. He and his wife, Margaret Hayes, have the usual Hollywood marital problems, and their extended scene together may try your patience. The scene becomes very poignant after the bank robbery.

Tommy Noonan has a creepy subplot as the awkward and emotionally challenged bank manager who moonlights as a voyeur of a nurse, Leith. From a distance, he peeks into her window at night. He follows her around town to get closer to her. He nearly faints at the drugstore, finding himself in a tight spot exiting, brushing between her and a display rack. It was not meant to be funny in 1955. His character is also married, which makes one wonder how that is going. He is wounded on this violent Saturday, and Leith is the nurse monitoring him. With a sense of manliness, he confesses his weird behavior to her.

Known for her somewhat wooden acting and with one of the most unfortunate female voices since the silent era, Virginia Leith never made it into the big time. She was attractive, but it is hard to describe her occasional goofy voice. When she keeps her volume low, it disguises the real danger when she smiles and talks. Her throat tightens up, and all her feminine qualities vanish. Her first greeting to Egan in the drugstore is a prime example. One would think the studio might have provided vocal training if they thought her career was skyrocketing. It is not offered today, as actors and actresses are not associated with studio demands. Plus, no one cares anymore.

That obligatory bus lets off McNally, the self-proclaimed “traveling salesman.” He is soon joined by two “junior salesmen,” the sadistic nasal inhaler, Marvin, and Naish, who appears to be everyone’s favorite uncle. Naish has been through this routine before and has the presence of mind to keep candy in his suit pocket in case an unruly child in the bank needs to be distracted.

There is a somewhat humorous scene for Marvin. It is a great scene that captures his character. He is restless. He cannot sleep. McNally is not yet in dreamland, and Marvin wants to talk about all the women who have messed up his life. He always went for “skinny broads.” Just skin and bones. One wife, in particular, was a record holder for getting colds. Then he would get a cold. Maybe fifty times. That is how he got addicted to nasal inhalers. She left him for a two-bit undertaker. Another character revelation comes earlier in the film when a local boy accidentally bumps into Marvin, knocking his inhaler to the sidewalk. Uh-oh. As the boy apologizes and attempts to retrieve the inhaler, Marvin grinds the boy’s hand into the concrete with his shoe. He enjoyed it.

McNally fakes a visit to an Amish farm outside town in which Borgnine is the head of the household. Borgnine calls any stranger “neighbor” and says “thee” and “wouldst thou.” It will be the perfect hideout. McNally later describes him to his partners as “a religious screwball.” McNally is given the customary glass of buttermilk. Nothing more refreshing in the desert! Set in the fictitious town of Bradenville, the southwest Arizona desert seems an unrealistic location for the Amish, given their expertise and dependence on growing and harvesting crops in fertile soil. The Amish DIY houses are made from wood, making one wonder where they got the bricks for this two-story home. But it is Borgnine’s pitchfork that may explain why the Amish were scripted in.

Mature’s Mercury is what the robbers need, and at gunpoint, he is ordered to drive to the Amish farm. Fleischer’s in-car camera goes to work, and Friedhofer’s score cranks up the excitement. The final stand-off scene was controversial at the time as the bandits tie up Mature and the Amish family in the barn’s hayloft. Seeing the family lined up with white tape covering their faces is still a bit unsettling, as they look less than human. Mature manages to cut the ropes around his wrists and then sets the Amish free—in a nod to Abraham Lincoln. The bandits then position the Mercury in front of the barn doors, and with a huge stone over the accelerator, the high-revving engine is remotely shifted into gear with a rake, and the car rams through. They set the car’s gas tank on fire to level the barn. Mature and Borgnine push it back into the open and Mature crawls underneath with little fear that the car might explode. His shotgun eliminates another robber. After shooting Mature in the leg, Borgnine notices he is reloading. Marvin kicks his inhaler habit with Borgnine's magic pitchfork thrust into his back, in a shocking moment.

Mature's young son could not explain why his friends called his dad a coward—a classic example of attacking someone before knowing the facts. Mature was more useful at home in the copper mines during World War II. After his recovery of the stolen money, blowing away two criminals with a shotgun and getting wounded himself, he becomes a hero to his son and his friends.

Note: The jury may still be out on how deeply "thy pitchfork" could be driven into the upper back to kill a person instantly, as suggested in this film. A lot of bones to pick through. It would "take thee" one monumental thrust into the spinal column. Based on the effect in the film, passing out would be logical, and with medical attention, perhaps survivable.