Rock Hudson, Robert Stack and Dorothy Malone Fly High in Sirk’s The Tarnished Angels

 

                One of the lesser-known entries in director Douglas Sirk’s venerated cannon of top-flight 1950’s Universal-International melodramas, 1957’s The Tarnished Angels deserves more attention as an enthralling entertainment, with stunningly staged action sequences and moving work from a sublime cast. Based on William Faulkner’s 1935’s novel Pylon (adroitly adapted for the screen by George Zuckerman), the film depicts the exploits of Roger and Laverne Shumann, a daredevil pilot and former WWI ace and his beautiful, devoted wife, who performs parachute jumps to help attract the crowds as she billows down from the sky, and their interactions with Burke Delvin, a frequently intoxicated reporter who becomes fascinated by the Shumann’s nomadic, wayward lifestyle. Sirk handles the material with his typical dramatic flourish, resulting in a highly compelling watch, with evocative B&W cinematography by Irving Glassberg perfectly capturing the 1930’s barnstorming era and an intense score by Frank Skinner that effectively supports the standout work of the cast in some vividly emotional sequences, both on-and-off the ground.  

Starting his film career in his homeland of Germany in the 1930’s, after his 1943 U.S. directorial debut via Columbia’s Hitler’s Madmen, Douglas Sirk spent ten years honing his distinct style, before a Universal-International contract would propel him to greater fame and box office success after his breakthrough with 1954’s Magnificent Obsession. The first in a series of Sirk classics featuring an intoxicating blend of romance, Technicolor and involving histrionic sequences, Obsession would gain Rock Hudson stardom and place Sirk at the forefront of Universal’s most reliable and profitable directors, with All That Heaven Allows and Written on the Wind confirming his status as a master of the Melodrama. With Tarnished, Sirk’s talent for executing riveting scenes featuring actors at their thespian best is in full bloom; Sirk is particularly impressive in utilizing the Cinemascope expanse to depict several exciting and dangerous races around said pylons, with Sirk’s skillful helming and ace editing by Russell F. Schoengarth allowing these scenes to come across to viewers with maximum impact (as the author can attest, seeing Tarnished on a big screen is a must if the opportunity arises). After Tarnished, Sirk would end the 1950s and his career with his biggest box-office success, the florid, compulsively watchable remake of Imitation of Life, which pulls tears as effectively as just about any movie and is now regarded by many as Sirk’s masterpiece.

Hudson was at a career peak by the release of Angels, thanks to fruitful collaborations with Sirk and a Best Actor Oscar nomination for one of the decade’s big ones, 1956’s Giant, with placement atop Quigley’s 1957’s poll of top Box-Office stars around the corner. In the midst of this fame and achievement, Hudson gave one of his most quietly effective performances as Burke Delvin, the contemplative, calm moralist who strives to help the Shumanns find some sort of stability and peace, while falling for Laverne in the process. The stoic Hudson does a great job suggesting the melancholic aspects of Delvin’s character, specifically in possible his best moment, wherein the drunken Delvin delivers a poetic monologue to his newspaper colleagues, with Hudson bringing off the speech and Delvin’s inebriated state with an effortless conviction that impresses, especially when considering how easily the difficult scene could have gone wrong if enacted in the too-showy manner actors often adopt when playing drunk. Following Tarnished, Hudson’s career would witness a huge shift when he closed out the decade showing substantial comic flair in the smash romcom Pillow Talk opposite his ideal costar, Doris Day. Afterwards Hudson would alternate between comedies (including two more with Day), dramas, Westerns and War-oriented films, remaining a top draw until the mid-1960’s, before moving on to possibly his most offbeat and daring film and performance in 1966’s Seconds, directed by John Frankenheimer. Hudson would turn to stage work, while also gaining major television success in the 1970’s via McMillan and Wife, before his untimely passing from AIDS in 1985 at age 59, raising awareness of the disease in the process, with Giant costar and lifelong friend Elizabeth Taylor stepping up as an advocate in the fight against AIDS.

Robert Stack was also at the top of his film career around the time of Angels after winning high praise and a seemingly near-miss Supporting Actor Oscar for his dedicated, forceful work as a paranoid alcoholic in Sirk’s sweeping Wind. Starting in films with much publicity as the first to bestow a screen kiss on Deanna Durbin in 1939’s First Love, the ultra-handsome and charismatic Stack would build on this initial success during the 1940s via screen endeavors such as Ernst Lubitsch’s To Be or Not to Be, A Date with Judy and an underrated comic gem, Miss Tatlock’s Millions, while also serving in the Navy during WWII. The new decade would find Stack offering up substantial dramatic work in 1951’s The Bullfighter and the Lady and as a jittery pilot in one of 1954’s big hits, The High and the Mighty. Following Tarnished Angels, Stack would soon gain his biggest fame with his Emmy-winning work as Eliot Ness on The Untouchables (his work therein even garnering mention in 1960’s The Apartment), then continue his career, most memorably as one of the stoic-leading-men-turned-comic-stars in 1980’s Airplane! and, starting in 1987, as the host of the long-running Unsolved Mysteries, while also penning (with Mark Evans) a highly absorbing 1980 autobiography.

After nearly fifteen years in the business, Dorothy Malone was also thriving circa 1957, winning the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her previous Sirk endeavor as the carnal, rich and troublemaking Marylee Hadley in Wind (more on that here) before giving perhaps her most profound and moving performance in Angels. Starting in films in 1943, Malone would spend ten years in a series of comedies, dramas and Westerns, making key impacts as the lovely bookseller Humphrey Bogart idles his time with in 1946’s classic noir The Big Sleep and as the lonely USO coordinator who trysts with Tab Hunter in a big 1955 hit, Battle Cry, before a change from brunette to blonde provided a spike in Malone’s fortunes, specifically in her films with Sirk, wherein her stunning looks and emotionally-driven acting style conveying both sensuality and anguish were showcased to staggering effect. As Laverne, Malone downplays the flamboyant sexuality inherit to her Wind characterization, instead using her sad, soulful eyes to emphasize a forlorn, wounded deportment the dispirited Laverne has adopted after years on the road with the shiftless Roger, while she yearns for a more secure existence for her family. In the wake of tragedy central to the film, Malone delves the depths of despair to illustrate Laverne’s bitterness and regret with a believable dramatic force that lingers, with a viewer hoping the vulnerable heroine will gain some sense of peace after so many setbacks. After Angels, Malone would continue to do interesting work in movies that failed to find much of an audience (Too Much, Too Soon, Warlock, The Last Voyage and in a reteaming with Hudson in The Last Sunset), until a career upswing in the mid-1960s via television’s Peyton Place. After that success, Malone would continue on T.V. with occasional film appearances, aptly ending her career on a high note with a small but pivotal role in 1992’s smash Basic Instinct.

Jack Carson has one of his best roles as Jiggs, Roger and Laverne’s sympathetic right-hand man. Starting in films in the 1930s (Carson can be seen in bits in such top fare as Stage Door and Bringing Up Baby), during the 1940s Carson gained fame at Warner Brothers in both comedy (often alongside Dennis Morgan) and dramas, including unforgettable, Oscar-worthy work in 1943’s The Hard Way, alternating between lead and character roles in the process, with Mildred Pierce and 1954’s A Star is Born among his most notable efforts. As Jiggs, Carson is able to convey a stabilizing voice of reason in the Shumann’s unorthodox lifestyle, as well as Jiggs’ loyalty to the pair in a poignant manner. Among others, as Jack, the Shumann’s adoring son, Chris Olsen continued his nice run after scoring the previous year in both The Man Who Knew Too Much singing “Que, Sera, Sera” alongside Doris Day, and in possible his best work as James Mason’s tormented son in Bigger Than Life. Robert Middleton makes a strong showing as Matt Ord, the businessman who only has lecherous eyes for Laverne. Troy Donahue makes a brief appearance as a rival ace pilot to roger, and William Schallert also pops up, as he inevitably did both in film and television during the 1950s and way beyond, with his first credit in 1947 and last appearance in 2014, two years before his passing at 93.

                Although The Tarnished Angels did not match the box office success of some previous Sirk pictures and was largely dismissed by many critics who placed the noteworthy film strictly in the “potboiler” category, the movie has benefited from the re-assessment of Sirk as one of the finest screen craftsmen of his generation and now stands as a prime entry in the filmographies of its stellar cast and crew, as well as gaining consideration as the best screen adaptation of a Faulkner work, alongside Intruder in the Dust and The Long, Hot Summer. Fans of Sirk, Hudson, Malone, Stack (and costars) and classic films in general will want to fly high via a viewing of The Tarnished Angels, especially if given the chance to catch those breathtaking flying sequences on a big screen, to fully gauge how masterfully Sirk could build dramatic tension to an explosive climax in a manner unlike any other filmmaker.

                And a fond farewell to Diane Ladd, who passed away on November 3^rd at age 89. Debuting in films in 1961 after a start on stage and television, the Mississippi-born Ladd would hone her craft as a deft character player until a major screen breakthrough in 1974 via Oscar-nominated and British Academy Award winning work in Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore and a small but key role in one of the era’s masterpieces, Chinatown. Afterwards Ladd would continue to build her reputation as a thespian of note, with highlights including a Golden Globe for her t.v. stint on the hit Alice and two more Oscar nominations for her daringly out-there performance in 1990’s Wild at Heart and, in a more subtle vein the following year, Rambling Rose, both opposite daughter Laura Dern. Later significant films included Primary Colors and a nice small role in 2015’s Joy opposite Jennifer Lawrence, with a final screen appearance in 2022. R.I.P. to a talented, spirited original, Diane Ladd.

Robert Ryan, Van Heflin and Janet Leigh Are Embroiled in Zinnemann's Stark Act of Violence

              Among the most exciting and unpredictable entries in the film noir canon, 1948’s Act of Violence from MGM provides a tense, suspenseful viewing throughout a brisk 83-minute running time. Setting a fast-paced, uneasy tone from the outset, wherein only the title of the film is shown (unusual for the time) before jumping into the action, wherein director Fred Zinnemann shows star Robert Ryan retrieving a gun before hopping on a Greyhound bus to the small town of Santa Lisa, California, the audience is quickly drawn into the inventive, hard-boiled screenplay by Robert L. Richards (based on a story by Collier Young) as the fate of the main characters play out, including Ryan’s embittered WWII vet Joe Parkson, his war ally in a POW Camp, Frank Enley (Van Heflin), and Frank’s lovely, supportive wife, Edith (Janet Leigh). Blessed with superior, economical direction by Zinnemann, a pulsating score by Bronislaw Kaper, era-evocative B&W on-location cinematography by lensing master Robert Surtees, and a rich, talented cast of players who are clearly receptive to bringing Zinnemann’s vision to life with conviction and strength, Act of Violence offers one of the most satisfying and hypnotic noirs from the Golden Age of the genre.

For director Zinnemann, who started helming films in 1936, Act would solidify his position as one of the most gifted of the new breed of Hollywood directors, following his breakthrough earlier in 1948 with The Search, filmed in docu-drama style illustrating how effectively Zinnemann could capture a believable sense of time and place while drawing expert performances from his cast, including Montgomery Clift in his first film (although released after his second, the classic Western Red River) and young Ivan Jandl, whom Zinnemann guided to an Oscar nomination and Juvenile Academy Award, respectively, while gaining his first Best Director nod. These traits also loom large in Act, with a consistent tone maintained throughout as the lead figures move about the town’s vicinity, then eventually Los Angeles, and powerful emoting adding much color to proceedings, as Zinnemann unfolds the action in a straightforward, extremely compelling manner that keeps a viewer glued to the screen. Following this outstanding effort, Zinnemann would carefully select works, in the process amassing a stellar lineup for his filmography consisting of such class productions as High Noon, the moving The Member of the Wedding, opting for a challenging musical change-of-pace with 1955’s Oklahoma! (which he had to film twice for two different screening formats), The Nun’s Story, The Sundowners and Best Director Oscar to match Best Picture wins for From Here to Eternity and A Man for All Seasons.

Robert Ryan, a noir staple with an uncanny knack of making unsavory characters identifiable to a viewer, such as in his career defining, Oscar nominated work as a bigoted brute in the previous year’s Crossfire, is mesmerizing to watch in Act, wherein he utilizes a seething, sweaty intensity he deftly mixes with a serene but menacing quality that ranks him among the most unique and unnerving figures in noir. With Ryan firmly in control of the role and carefully adding dimension to Joe, one understands the character’s motives, even if they may be misguided and ominous, while wondering just how far the vet is willing to go to avenge the wrong he believes he’s been dealt; with ultra convincing Ryan in the part a viewer watches with trepidation, hoping Joe doesn’t let his wrathful attitude run rampant. Starting in films in 1940 after being a star boxer in college, then traversing around in different jobs before deciding on an acting career, Ryan gained an RKO contract then played leads and second leads in a variety of films before his Crossfire breakthrough, including work opposite Fred Astaire in The Sky’s the Limit and elevated to the male lead costarring with Ginger Rogers in Tender Comrade. Following Act, Ryan would maintain a steady career in films as a hero, anti-hero and villain in a wide array of films, with highlights including his venal, crafty cads in The Naked Spur and Bad Day at Black Rock; more sympathetic work as a down-on-his-luck boxer in The Set-Up and endearingly comic and touching in God’s Little Acre; out-of-left field casting as John the Baptist in 1961’s King of Kings before returning to more unholy character territory with Billy Budd; scoring 1960’s hits in rugged tough guy mode via The Professionals, The Dirty Dozen and The Wild Bunch, then making in a fine final bow in films via stellar work in Eugene O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh, released posthumously in 1973 along with The Outfit and Executive Action, after his death the previous year at 63, with Iceman garnering a Best Actor Award from the National Board of Review (in a tie with Al Pacino for Serpico) and a citation from The National Society of Film Critics, a fitting tribute to an actor of the first rank who seldom received the hosannas he was eminently worthy of during a rich screen career.

Top-billed Van Heflin does an admirable job of fully enacting Captain Frank Enley’s cowardice towards Joe as the latter stalks him around the Santa Lisa and Los Angeles areas and the guilt Frank holds concerning his decisions as a leader during the war. In an era when most male starring roles suggested an altruistic, heroic character, as with Ryan Heflin was more interested in showing the flaws inherent in his roster of edgy characters, and his work in Act offers one of his most penetrating portrayals as a desperate man ill-at-ease with his conscious and his place in society. The tension he and Ryan create concerning the conflict between Joe and Frank builds to a stunning confrontation, with both talents showcasing thespian playing of the highest order, leading to a satisfying and surprising final act. Starting in films (after work on Broadway) in 1936’s A Woman Rebels opposite Katharine Hepburn, Heflin who go on to star on stage with Hepburn in the hit The Philadelphia Story before making his mark in films during the 1940’s, including on Oscar-winning breakthrough with Johnny Eager and excellent work as an anti-hero (or downright swine) in other noirs such as The Strange Love of Martha Ivers and causing Joan Crawford even more grief than she usually encountered onscreen in 1947’s Possessed, while also raising his profile playing more likable gents in lavish big-budget MGM productions such as Till the Clouds Roll By, Green Dolphin Street and a big one in 1948, the Technicolor, all-star The Three Musketeers. After his standout 1940s in film, Heflin would continue as a reliable star character actor, with deft work in such high-profile movies as Shane, Battle Cry, 3:10 to Yuma and, just before his passing in 1971, one of the more impactful performances in the 1970 blockbuster Airport.

Janet Leigh, fresh to films after being discovered by Norma Shearer via a photograph, then promoted to stardom by MGM with her fine debut as the lovely heroine in 1947’s The Romance of Rosy Ridge, comes through with the best work of her young career as Edith, Frank’s initially bewildered, concerned and loyal wife. As evident in Ridge, Leigh had an intuitive gift for sincere, emotionally grounded screen acting, while being able to suggest both wholesomeness and tougher, more mature aspects not normally seem in a sweet ingenue role. These traits lend heft to her earnest, ultra-focused work in Act, with Edith becoming central to the action and gaining audience empathy as she stands up to Joe in admirable fashion once she grasps the danger he represents to her home and family, then seeks out Frank to forthrightly determine what exactly went on between the two adversaries during the war. Leigh always appears completely ‘in the moment’ in her demanding scenes with Ryan and Heflin, granting Edith a strength, dimension and humanity that is rarely seen by a relative novice to acting. After Act, Leigh would score immediately again with another endearing, carefully modulated performance as Meg in the Technicolor Little Women, followed by one of the more successful leading lady runs in the 1950s and 1960s, with standout work in hits such as The Naked Spur, Pete Kelly’s Blues, The Vikings, Bye, Bye Birdie and Harper to her credit, as well as prominent roles in three major all-time classics: returning to noir territory via 1958’s Touch of Evil, Oscar-nominated as Marion Crane, the most famous and unfortunate motel guest in film history, in Psycho¸ then equally riveting in the small but key role as the somewhat hard-to-perceive but magnetic Rosie in 1962’s The Manchurian Candidate. After her heyday, Leigh would focus more on family from the 1970s onward, including watching daughter Jamie Lee rise to success in 1978’s Halloween then, after appearing with Jamie Lee in 1980’s The Fog, joining her 20 years later for a lovely cameo in one of the Halloween franchise’s better sequels, before passing in 2004 at age 77. 

                Mary Astor, in the midst of playing a series of warm motherly roles for MGM (most notably in Meet Me in St. Louis) after amassing a rich filmography over 20-plus years that included Don Juan, Red Dust, Dodsworth, Midnight, The Palm Beach Story and a remarkable 1941 with singular work in The Maltese Falcon and an eventual Oscar for The Great Lie, does a vivid against-type turn as Pat, a hard-boiled but compassionate prostitute who talks about getting her “kicks” but tries to help out the lost Frank once he hits the skids. Phyllis Thaxter also shows up to good effect as Ann, Joe’s girlfriend pleading with him to not waste his life. Thaxter works well with Ryan and helps illustrates the Joe isn’t completely unsympathetic due to his relationship with Ann, wherein a bit of gentleness can be discerned under his gruff exterior. Rounding out the top cast, Connie Gilchrest brings her likable openness to Martha, the Enley’s next-door neighbor, while Taylor Holmes and the aways-menacing Berry Kroeger help darken the movie’s noir shade as two ignoble types Frank meets through Pat.

As was the case with many top noirs of the period, upon release Act of Violence witnessed lukewarm audience reaction, although some critics noted the quality involved in an MGM production that chose to forego the studio’s typical gloss while illustrating a harsh crime thriller in a realistic, mature manner. Over the years Act’s merit has gained attention from film historians recognizing the unique storyline as one of noir’s most forceful, and the contributions of Zinnemann, Ryan, Heflin, Leigh and a supreme supporting cast and crew ranking with the best work of their careers. The prime noir has recently been given a splendid presentation on Blu-ray from Warner Archive, resulting in the movie looking the best it ever has on physical media. Those wishing for a key example of 1940’s L.A. (and environs) based noir with an intriguing WWII twist thoroughly embroiling a viewer into the plot machinations will not want to avoid this penetrating Act of Violence. 

And a fond farewell to June Lockhart, who passed on October 23rd at age 100. An iconic figure in 1950’s and 1960’s television for her idealized mothers in Lassie and Lost in Space, preceding and followed by many additional appearances in the medium into the 2000s, the modern and progressive-minded Lockhart also made her mark on stage and in movies during her lengthy career. Starting on stage at 8, then eventually winning a Tony for Best Broadway Newcomer in 1948, Lockhart made her film debut at thirteen with 1938’s A Christmas Carol, then found her way into several major 1940’s cinematic offerings, including playing opposite Bette Davis in All That Heaven Allows, Sergeant York, gracing the holiday season perennial Meet Me in St. Louis, The Yearling and, inevitably, 1945’s Son of Lassie, over a decade before her 1958-64 run in the t.v. series. R.I.P. to a talented, lovely and durable presence on screen, June Lockhart.

Patty McCormack Plants Plenty of Ominous Trickery as The Bad Seed

 

            Offering one of the most original and entertaining thrillers from classic Hollywood, 1956’s The Bad Seed from Warner Bros. provides a compelling excursion into the innate nature of evil. Based on the hit 1954 Broadway success by Maxwell Anderson (from the same year’s praised novel by William March), the unusual story centers around eight-year-old Rhonda Penmark, a bright, perfectly poised child whose waters run deeper than her appearance conveys, to the dismay of her progressively concerned mother, Christine, whose suspicions concerning her daughter’s involvement a tragedy at a school outing mount as the tension-filled plot reaches an astounding climax. Helmed with panache by veteran writer/director/producer Mervyn LeRoy, who wisely focuses on allowing his gifted cast, most of them recreating their acclaimed Broadway performances, to put over the florid dramatics with the fervor and focus that informed their initial thespian antics, in the process creating a colorful, fascinating cinematic work that stays close to its theater origins, but avoids the staleness that often accompanies these stage-to-screen adaptations, instead bringing the scenario (via John Lee Mahin’s adept screenplay) to life with such melodramatic, sometimes campy relish during the 129-minute runtime that, enhanced by Alex North’s macabre-tinged score and Harold Rosson’s moody B&W cinematography, The Bad Seed has remained a fresh, eerily satisfying viewing experience for close to seventy years.

            For LeRoy, who started with stage and vaudeville work as a youth before beginning in silent pictures as an actor, then becoming a writer and director, Seed cemented his strong return to Warner Bros. after first making his name in the 1930’s at the studio directing such highly-regarded classics as Little Caesar, I Am a Fugitive from a Chain Gang and Gold Diggers of 1933. Moving over to a lengthy tenure at MGM, starting with producer credits, including The Wizard of Oz, before continuing as director of merit with titles such as Waterloo Bridge, Random Harvest (his sole Best Director Oscar nomination), Quo Vadis, LeRoy would depart MGM after 1954’s Rose Marie to return to WB in style stepping in to codirect Mister Roberts with John Ford. The massive success of Roberts in 1955 lent LeRoy the cache concerning his next film option and, after catching Seed on Broadway he was determined to bring it to life on the screen with the same transfixing heighten sense of reality the talented cast thrilled audiences with onstage. LeRoy is clearly invested in making sure the unsettling elements of the scenario slowly but deftly build, in the process drawing the viewer into the eeriness of the piece, then holding them rapt once sinister plot points are finally revealed and the theatrics reach a hypnotic fever pitch, which LeRoy oversees with aplomb to allow for maximum dramatic impact. Following Seed, LeRoy would continue with varying degrees of success at WB, with No Time for Sergeants, The FBI Story and Gypsy accounting for his most commercially viable late-career work. LeRoy would retire by the end of the 1960’s, then gain the prestigious Irving G. Thalberg Award in 1976 from the Academy, after previously receiving, just after Seed, the Golden Globes’ Cecil B. DeMille Award in 1957, before his passing in 1987 at age 86.

        Nancy Kelly, born in 1921 in Lowell, Massachusetts, started as a child model and appeared in several silent films, then worked on radio before successfully starting her leading lady career in films at the tender age of 17 in 1938 with John Ford’s Submarine Patrol. Making a strong impression opposite Tyrone Power in one of the following year’s biggest hits, Jesse James, Kelly would continue apace in movies until 1946, before moving over to stage work, landing her biggest success with her emotionally overwhelming work in Seed, which brought her a Best Actress Tony Award. In recreating her powerful portrayal for film, Kelly holds nothing back, fully depicting the mounting dread Christine encounters as she begins to unfold the mystery of the center of the macabre storyline; this full-frontal acting approach has led to criticism for what some feel is over-the-top emoting of the most florid and campy nature. However, Kelly always appears fully ‘in the moment’ while illustrating Christine’s plight, which indeed could send a mother over the edge once she figures out the score, as opposed to acting in a synthetic, unspontaneous manner. Kelly carefully modulates the characterization, showing Christine as a warm, sensible housewife early on, before depicting the unraveling of the poor woman’s mindset during the story’s progression, with Kelly bringing undeniable force to her challenging assignment, whether one reads an entertaining hammy quality in her emoting or not. Seed would represent Kelly’s last and most enduring screen role, with the star thereafter taking time off to raise a daughter, while making sporadic television and stage appearances, before her passing in 1995 at age 73.  

With a film debut in 1951 and work as a regular on television’s hit Mama starting in 1953, the same year as her Broadway debut, Patty McCormack had already amassed significant credits prior to her most famous role as Rhoda. McCormack has mentioned she had a strange affinity with the character and instinctually knew how to delve into the darker aspects of Rhoda’s psychic from the first time, at nine years old, she played the role on Broadway, after yearning for the part with a passion mirroring Rhoda’s desire to win that penmanship medal. Transferring her landmark performance to film, McCormack shows a remarkable self-assurance in front of the camera perfectly suited to Rhoda’s confident nature, convincing a viewer this child is capable of doing anything to achieve her aims without a thought in regard to moral standards. McCormack creatively balances Rhoda’s self-possessed moments with more brazen suggestions of her odious makeup, such as in her confrontations with the slimy janitor Leroy, and during Rhoda’s biggest dramatic scene with Christine, wherein the focused McCormack displays thespian skills rare to find in an actor at any age. Following this indelible career highlight, McCormack has admirably been able to continue building her list of credits, with All Mine to Give and 1958’s Kathy O’ follow-up screen endeavors during her brief reign as a child star, then much work on television and film into adulthood, including 1995’s Mommy, with McCormack in the title role offering a take of a Rhoda-like adult, work in a couple of major critical hits, Frost/Nixon and 2012’s The Master, and cleverly returning to the Seed arena as Dr. March in a 2018 remake and 2022 sequel.

Eileen Heckart, after firmly establishing her on stage via Picnic and Seed, was witnessing a sterling entry into movies in 1956 with her debut in Miracle in the Rain, then great work in Somebody Up There Likes Me and, in a lighter vein, Bus Stop complementing her astounding turn as the distraught Hortense Daigle. Heckart throws herself into the tragic role with full dedication, adding humor and disturbing emotional complexity as she delves into the part, resulting in both surprise moments of laughter and, sometimes immediately following these, explosive drunken outbursts as the bereft but canny Hortense demands to know more about the devasting circumstances tied to her only child’s downfall, making a viewer feel pity and uncomfortableness concerning Mrs. Daigle’s actions, thanks to Heckart’s unbridled, fearless emoting that puts the film on another level artistically, specifically in Mrs. Daigle’s electrifying final moment in the story, wherein she confronts Christine for the truth one last time to unforgettable dramatic effect. Following her breakthrough 1956, Heckart would continue to thrive in films, television and the theater winning an Oscar in 1973 for recreating her sage and funny work in Butterflies Are Free and, after several nominations, an Emmy Award for her guest appearance on Love & War. Heckart would end her movie career in style playing Diane Keaton’s tough mother in the hit The First Wives Club, then score a final major success on stage in Kenneth Longeran’s The Waverly Gallery before passing in 2001 at age 82.

Reprising his Broadway role as the mischievous, slovenly Leroy, Henry Jones, who began in films in 1943’s This is the Army, also gained status as a character actor, going on to become a recognizable, reliable player in many movie, television and stage productions. Sharing most of his scenes with McCormack, the two create a creepy dynamic as they go at each other in cat-and-mouse fashion until Rhoda has enough of the outmatched Leroy’s shenanigans, with Jones’ juicy histrionics in these moments responsible for much of the levity found in the film, before he finds teasing Rhoda to be no laughing matter after all. Evelyn Varden, a year after her memorable depiction of a friendly but overbearing busybody in Night of the Hunter, also offers bits of humor and enjoyably expansive playing as the psychoanalytical landlady Monica Breedlove, while Joan Croydon adds plenty of heft to her work as Miss Fern, Rhoda’s tactful but wary and hesitant teacher who with look and gesture seems to know all about the tyke’s least desirable and most mischievous traits. Of those not from the original cast, handsome William Hopper, bookending the film as the loving, sincere husband and father, brings earnestness to his brief appearance, Paul Fix exudes benevolence as Christine’s caring father, Frank Cady is touching as the forlorn Mr. Daigle and Jesse White lends his amiable persona as a guest of Christine’s.

          The Bad Seed would become a surprise box-office hit upon release in September of 1956, bolstered by strong word-of-mouth concerning the uniquely baleful premise of the film and solid critical response, specifically for the performances of Kelly, McCormick and Heckart. Heckart would go on to win the Golden Globe for her trenchant work, while also gaining an Oscar nomination along with costars Kelly and McCormack, who at eleven was one of the youngest performers ever nominated for an Academy Award. Television broadcasts and a viable presence on physical media via VHS, DVD and Blu-ray has allowed Seed to capture the imagination of new generations of classic movie lovers and those interested in unorthodox mysteries, while remakes of the source material and screen variations on the same themes largely failed to hit the mark The Bad Seed so adeptly manages to do with a panache that’s enabled this one-of-a-kind cinematic experience to remain fresh and resonant with audiences regardless of how many times one views the abundant array of dramatics onscreen as Rhoda intently does her thing. 

          And a fond farewell to Samantha Eggar, who passed away on October 15^th at age 86. The London-born Eggar started her career on stage and via a 1962 film debut, then made a major impact on a more global scale opposite Terrence Stamp in director William Wyler’s involving 1965 psychological drama/thriller The Collector. After winning impressive public and critical acclaim for the film, including Cannes Film Festival (with Stamp) and Golden Globe awards and her sole Oscar nomination, Eggar would enjoy a nice run as a preeminent leading lady onscreen, including Cary Grant’s final film, Walk, Don’t Run, then gracing the fantastical Doctor Dolittle and gaining one of her best roles in 1970’s The Molly Maguires. The 1970’s would witness a surprising shift in Eggar’s film output, with her becoming a key figure in several horror offerings of the era, including The Dead Are Alive, The Brood and Demonoid, while also appearing in the 1976 all-star mystery The Seven-Per-Cent Solution and regularly on television (including a 1973 remake of Double Indemnity) before an early silver screen exit with 1999’s The Astronaut’s Wife. R.I.P. to a lovely, talented presence onscreen, and one not adverse to taking risks therein, Samantha Eggar. 

Leslie Nielsen and Anne Francis Meet Sci-Fi Immortality on Forbidden Plant

 

               One of the most intelligent and enjoyable science fiction epics of the 1950’s, with class MGM production values that also place it as the most lavish otherworldly adventure of the period, 1956’s Forbidden Plant imaginatively retells Shakespeare’s The Tempest in galaxy far away, casting a spell over viewers of all ages as the scenario concerning spacemen in the 23^rd century on an expedition to the planet Altair to search for survivors from a previous journey 20 years before unfolds in riveting fashion. Helmed with impressive skill by director Fred Wilcox, and a far cry from the Lassie films that made his name at the studio, the various elements of suspense, romance, fantasy and comedy found in the creative, engrossing screenplay by Cyril Hume from Allen Adler/Irving Block story concerning , are dexterously interwoven with a top cast of players, including Walter Pidgeon, Anne Francis and newcomer Leslie Nielsen,  lending individual flair and sincerity to their choice assignments, including the introduction of a true sci-fi icon, vivid lensing in Eastmancolor by George J. Folsey that, along with ace special effects and choice art and set direction by Cedric Gibbons and Arthur Lonergan, helps create a colorful and fascinating alternative universe, and one of the cinema’s most eerily impactful scores, with composers Bebe and Louis Barron working wonders in producing their famous electronically driven score.

                For director Wilcox, Planet afforded him the outlet to oversee a big budget, challenging project, after he had spent over a decade at MGM, starting with 1943’s Lassie Come Home, then helming three more Lassie films before ending the decade with another child-oriented movie, The Secret Garden. Switching to dramatic fare in the 1950s with moderate success, Planet provided Wilcox the means to exhibit his talent for investing the opulently staged set designs and fantastic plotline with a childlike sense of wonder that, even with the film’s frightening elements, serves as ideal viewing for sci-fi fans of all ages. Specifically impressive is the manner in which Wilcox puts Joshua Meador’s astounding animation of the terrifying Id monster front-and-center after building the tension for the raging destructive force of the Id. Similarly, early on Wilcox sagely offers an attention-getting introduction for the film’s breakout star, Robby the Robot (expertly voiced by Marvin Miller in appropriately monotone, automated fashion), as the space crew notice a dust formation rapidly coming closer. After this debut, Wilcox focuses ample time on providing the audience with more info on what exactly makes Robby tick, adding much humor to the proceedings and ensuring Robby his spot among the most beloved figures in 1950’s movies.  Following the peak of Planet, Wilcox would direct one more film, 1960’s intriguingly titled I Passed for White before his passing at age 56 in 1964.

                As Dr. Edward Morbius, the sole survivor of the first trip to Altair, top billed Walter Pidgeon utilizes his confident, stoic and distinguished demeanor and deep, resounding voice to create a calm-yet-commanding, forceful presence. Starting his career in films in 1926 during the silent era, the handsome, reliable Pidgeon slowly progressed as a leading man during the 1930s, before becoming a major star and box-office draw in the 1940s, first as the hero of 1941’s Oscar-winning Best Picture, How Green Was My Valley, then via a series of ideal pairings with Greer Garson, including one of the decade’s biggest hits, Mrs. Miniver (making it two Best Pictures in a row for Pidgeon) and Madame Curie, both of which gained him Best Actor Oscar nominations. Continuing into the 1950s as something of an elder stateman at MGM in top fare such as The Bad and the Beautiful and Executive Suite, Pidgeon would gain his richest role in years as the complex Morbius, driven by internal passions beyond his control as he attempts to guard his beautiful young daughter from the advances of several of the romantically inclined crewmen while also protecting the durable advanced technological empire (the depiction of which really gives the art and set designs a chance to shine in overwhelming manner) created centuries before by the ingenious Krell Race from the crew’s intrusiveness. Pidgeon does a fine job in illustrating the doctor’s unwillingness to welcome the members of starship C-57D and indicating mysterious circumstances are involved in Morbius’ mindset, allowing him to become a character the audience can both sympathize with and, as events unfold, grow leerier of as some unhinged aspects of the doctor’s nature arise. After his imposing appearance in Planet Pidgeon would continue in films for the next two decades, with highlights including Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, Advise and Consent and strong work as Florence Ziegfeld in 1968’s smash Funny Girl, making his final film opposite the equally indomitable Mae West in 1978’s Sexette, before passing away in 1984 at age 87.

Gaining film immortality in her icon role as Altaira, Morbius’ alluring, naïve daughter curious to discover more about the crewmen and their customs, the stunning Anne Francis invests the role with the proper innocence and moxie in a thoughtful, skillful performance indicating the experience young veteran Francis had already gained in her impressive screen career. Born in 1930, Francis started in films as a teen via a debut in 1947’s This Time for Keeps, then slowly worked her way up the Hollywood ladder, first in bit parts (she can be glimpsed at the end of Portrait of Jennie), then moving on to leads and second leads in some top early-mid 1950’s films, including Bad Day at Black Rock (wherein, similar to Planet, she is the only female cast member) and two major 1955 hits, Battle Cry and Blackboard Jungle. The professional poise and affinity with the camera Francis exhibits in Planet assures audience attention stays on Altaira (aided by some daring, revealing and gorgeous costumes by Helen Rose), even in scenes wherein she has little or nothing to say. Also, she capably shows Altaira’s increasing strength of character, as she becomes more knowledgeable of her and Morbius’ circumstances. Following Planet, Francis would continue in films (including a brief reunion with Pidgeon in Funny Girl) and score strongly on television, starring in the famous “The After Hours” episode of The Twilight Zone before winning a Golden Globe for her stint as a private eye on the Honey West series. Continuing through the 1980s and 1990s as a guest star on many top t.v. shows, Francis would make her final appearance on two episodes of Without a Trace in 2004 before passing away at 80 in early 2011.

                In his first major role after appearing in Ransom! earlier in 1956, Leslie Nielsen established himself as a low-keyed, persuasive screen actor of note. Although fitting the requirements for the squared-jawed, virile matinee idol type of star, Nielsen hints at the lighter, mock-serious aspect of his playing that would make him a huge star in comedies in the 1980s and beyond. As John J. Adams, the commander of the C-57D, Nielsen forthrightly demonstrates the strength and focus needed to convince as the leader, but he also finds moments of bemusement as Adams interacts with his colleagues, bringing both dramatic heft and levity to the role. In his romantic sequences with Francis, the statuesque Nielsen displays a charmingly boyish quality as Adams awkwardly attempts to get closer to the attentive maiden. The sturdy leading man would solidify his place among Hollywood’s new talent in the following year’s Tammy and the Bachelor opposite Debbie Reynolds, then spend the next two decades as a stalwart figure in films and television, including a memorable turn (literally) as the unlucky Captain Harrison, placed in charge of the title vessel in The Poseidon Adventure, before a hilarious role of a very different sort as the somber, but masterfully tongue-in-cheek doctor in 1980’s Airplane! garnered his career a whole new life as a major star of zany fare, including The Naked Gun (first on television, then in three movies) and Scary Movie series, among many others. Nielsen’s work in this satirical comedy genre continued in fairly unbated fashion, until his passing in 2010 at 84.

                A constant presence on films and television during the 1950s and 1960s, the hardy Warren Stevens has possibly his best-remembered screen role as Lt. “Doc” Ostrow, the staunchly loyal cohort of Adams. Starting in films as a pre-teen in 1939’s The Story of Alexander Graham Bell, Jack Kelly also has his signature big screen role as crewman Jerry, who vies with Adams for Altaira’s attentions and has a few amusing exchanges with Francis early on, just before Kelly gained major stardom on television as Bart Maverick. Another who went on to higher-profile stardom after a memorable showing in Planet, Richard Anderson is briefly onboard as Quinn, the crew’s Chief Engineer, years before his best-known work in the hit television sci-fi series The Six Million Dollar Man and its spinoff, The Six Million Dollar Woman. Finally, experiencing a great year in films with the blockbuster Giant and an endearing, Golden Globe-winning performance in The Rainmaker also to his credit before going on to greater television fame (via Police Woman), the ingratiatingly comic Earl Holliman scores heavily in Planet’s most entertaining and lightest subplot, wherein his cook befriends Robby, leading to a most un-sobering endeavor.

With its March 1956 release, the vastly entertaining, though-provoking Forbidden Planet was justifiably praised by critics for reaching a quality of filmmaking seldom seen in most sci-fi movies. Audiences also took to this Planet immediately, with the film eventually ending up with a profit despite the large production costs for the ambitious, risky undertaking. Unnoticed during most of the award season (possibly due to genre bias against sci-fi), at the Academy Awards Planet reaped a well-deserved nomination for Best Special Effects. The film has resonated strongly with subsequent generations as one of sci-fi cinema’s greatest undertakings, with re-releases (including kiddie matinees), showings on television and constant output on physical media exposing the classic to new Planet fans. The National Film Registry included the film on its 2013 list, while the fame of the movie took on a life of its own as Robby the Robot became one of the most lasting and recognizable film fabrications and pop icons ever, with a wealth of further appearances on films and television, while the movie and Ms. Francis were further etched in cinema history via homage to them during the opening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Sci-fi aficionados and movie lovers in the mood for seeing one of the most artfully conceived films of the fantastical genre, with class production values across the board and a cast and crew fully committed to selling the premise in highly compelling and entertaining fashion, will find a rich and unforgettable viewing experience by making a star trek to the inventively bewitching world of Forbidden Planet.

A Fond Farewell to a True Screen Original, Diane Keaton

 

                A vibrant, original, multitalented and complex presence in films from her 1970’s heyday onward, Diane Keaton lent truth and perception to a variety of memorable roles, granting individuality, grace humor and dramatic heft to some of the most indelible portrayals in the annals of film. Throughout a rich filmography spanning several decades, Keaton managed to constantly offer relevant and relatable work, brining a modern sensibility and believability to her roles that allowed audiences to identify with and admire her strong, independent heroines, with Keaton proving equally dexterous in both comedic and dramatic parts in such diverse work as The Godfather, Sleeper, Looking for Mr. Goodbar, Shoot the Moon, Baby Boom, Father of the Bride, The Family Stone, Academy Award nominated work in Reds, Marvin’s Room  and Something’s Gotta Give and her iconic, Oscar winning performance as the title character in Annie Hall, while branching out to develop her talents as a writer, director, photographer and editor of style and taste.

                Starting her career on Broadway in 1968 visa the smash Hair, Keaton would score another stage success and gain a Tony nomination for Play It Again, Sam, starting a highly fruitful collaboration with Woody Allen, before debuting in films via 1970’s Lovers and Other Strangers. 1972 would prove a pivotal year in her career, with Keaton showing finesse for playing in both lighter mode via a screen reprisal of her breakout Sam role, while plunging more dramatic depths as the put-upon Kay in The Godfather, a trend she would follow in her subsequent films with remarkable effectiveness as she artfully maneuvered through and balanced comedies and dramas. Reaching superstar status in 1977 with the formidable one-two punch of the delightful Hall and the disturbing Goodbar, Keaton would thereafter maintain her place among the top leading stars of her generation, continuing her association with Allen via the likes of Manhattan, Radio Days and Manhattan Murder Mystery, reaching other comic highs via Baby Boom, Father, a wonderful teaming with Goldie Hawn and Bette Milder in the hit First Wives Club and a triumph pairing with Jack Nicholson for 2003’s Something’s, while delving into forceful dramatic work with Allen’s Interiors, especially impactful alongside the equally compelling Albert Finney in Moon, The Little Drummer Girl and The Good Mother, while honing her directorial skills with the documentary Heaven, then Unstrung Heroes and Hanging Up.

                Perhaps Keaton’s most enduring and endearing work came via 1977’s Annie Hall, wherein her zany, heartfelt embodiment of the semiautobiographical title role, a young woman trying to find her voice (literally) and place in the world as she deals with and on-and-off romance proved remarkably popular with both audiences and critics, while also launching a fashion trend with the “Annie Hall Look.” Keaton adds great comic spontaneity to her scenes while also adding a touching truth and sensitivity to the more profound moments as Annie evolves into a more liberated spirit, with a viewer standing in awe at how adeptly and singularly Keaton is able bring Annie to life in a fully rounded, definitive manner. Take for example Annie’s first meeting with Alvy (Allen), wherein Keaton lends a bravura dizziness and intense likability to the nervous, open Annie, as she laments over her spacy demeanor and awkwardness with famous “la-de-da” comments and a beguiling forthrightness that make the character sing with truth, instead of becoming annoyingly cute and phony with her offbeat antics and stream of conscience ramblings. Keaton is also impressive in Annie’s more serious moments as she faces conflict via the fading nature of her relationship with Alvy, or her insecurity concerning her desires for a singing career, with the dramatic aspects of the role setting up Keaton’s trenchant, stark career 180-degree turn later in the year with her deep dive into the dark world depicted in Goodbar.

                A dynamic talent of seemingly unlimited artistic resources, Diane Keaton forged her own path during a revolutionary period in movies, with the outcome being a fantastic array of thoughtful, sincere and entertaining work both in front of and behind the camera. Rest in peace to a lovely, gifted star of rare merit and appeal, Diane Keaton. 

Horror Anthology Cinema Comes to the Fore in the Chilling Dead of Night

 

                A prime bet as the most influential and accomplished of the early suspense films centered around a multi-story format, 1945’s nail-biting Dead of Night from Britian’s Ealing Studios offers five eerie tales helmed by a top roster of esteemed directors, including Alberto Cavalcanti, Charles Crichton, Basil Dearden and Robert Hamer. A deft, unnerving screenplay by John Baines and Angus MacPhail (based on stories by Baines, MacPhail, E.F. Benson and H.G. Wells), coherently ties all the scenarios together via a truly ingenious linking narrative featuring all the main characters, including the dazed protagonist, meeting at a country house to share their unusual scenarios, leading to a justly famous jarring, unforgettable finale. A foreboding score by Georges Auric and top-flight list of thespian talent partake of their choice sequences with skill and the proper amount of queasiness, particularly Michael Redgrave in one of the most emotionally complex and disturbing performances found in films, allowing an audience to suspense disbelief and become completely caught up in the web of mounting intrigue emanating from the screen. Overall, even with its brief moments of levity, this trendsetting Michael Balcon production accounts for some of the tensest, scariest 103 minutes found in film.

                The Dearden-directed opening and interlocking segments present travails faced by the befuddled architect Walter Craig, who at the outset has a funny feeling regarding a day’s trip to an unfamiliar cottage he senses he’s been to before. Relating his thought to the cottage’s guest allows for each member to relate an unexplainable event from their past. Dearden sets up this premise with simplicity and precision, bringing each identifiable player into the scene with clarity and believable ease. As Walter, Meryvn Johns, a veteran of British films since the 1930s, does an expert job of illustrating this befuddled everyman’s distracted state as he struggles to understand the mystery behind his déjà vu, helping to beautifully set up the closing scenes. After this preliminary meeting of the key characters, the action moves into the recounting of the first story, also directed by Dearden, which aids in a smooth tonal transition from the cottage intro.

                Based on a truly spine-tingling 1906 short story by Benson entitled “The Bus-Conductor,” the updated, revised version related by racecar driver Hugh Grainger (played with proper intensity and apprehension by Anthony Baird) tells of a post-accident hospital stay by Grainger wherein, in the middle of the night, he encounters a hearse driver below (a perfectly cast, cheerfully ominous Miles Malleson), seen in broad daylight beckoning the shocked driver to come inside. Dearden’s colorful emphasis on the story’s creepy elements and Auric’s sinister scoring allows for a maximum sense of dread as the rest of the tale unfolds, serving as an ideal first offering of the macabre, with more off-kilter anecdotes to be unveiled by the other guests. The enduring appeal of Benson’s original story would live on in other iterations, including a memorable 1961 Twilight Zone episode with Barbara Nichols which moved the final “punchline” from bus to airplane, and a terrifying Scholastic Books version (for children!) done circa the 1970s entitled “The Elevator Operator” (aka “Lord Dufferin’s Story”) that, with an illustration of a deformed coffin carrier (subbing for the hearse driver), gave this author nightmares for years to come.

                Following this edgy yarn, “The Christmas Party,“ directed by Cavalcanti, provides a mellower scare quotient, but still offers some haunted house brand of shivers as teenager Sally O’Hara (competently played by young Sally Ann Howes, who is interesting to see a couple decades before her most famous screen appearance as the female lead, Truly Scrumptious in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang) recalls a holiday celebration at a manor, wherein a game of hide-and seek leads Sally to an encounter she finds hard to explain or forget post-party. This episode is relayed in a simple, fairly serene manner, but the next, the Hamer-directed effort entitled “The Haunted Mirror,” really puts Auric’s ominous score to its maximum pulsating effect. Googie Withers, on the rise as a top leading lady of English films after starting as a child actor, then toiling in the 1930’s cinema, with a part in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1938 masterpiece The Lady Vanishes possibly her best effort, before raising her profile just prior to Night with 1942’s One of Our Aircraft is Missing and the following year’s On Approval, portrays the urbane Joan Courtland, who offers up the strange circumstances surrounding the gift of an ornately crafted mirror to her husband Peter (Ralph Michael), and the mysterious effect the new reflection has on Peter. Withers and Michael do a nice job interacting in a nonchalant fashion at the beginning of the piece, before turning to high drama as Haner’s forceful direction and Auric’s tense strains convey the mounting danger at hand for the overwhelmed couple.

                The penultimate tale, “The Golfer’s Story,” based on a Wells short story and directed by Crichton, warming up for the comic flavor he would bring helming The Lavender Hill Mob and The Titfield Thunderbolt, takes a whimsical approach not seen in the other offerings. Cottage host Eliot Foley (played by British screen mainstay Roland Culver) presents to his guests an account concerning two buddies vying for the hand of a lovely maiden via a winner-take-all golf game, the consequences of which leads to ghostly apparitions and some dire-yet-amusing actions. The light manner maintained as the story unfolds allows a viewer to relax a bit after some of the pronounced suspense on display during the film’s first hour or so. As the combative slicers, Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne perform with a deft comic chemistry carefully honed in several pre-Night entries, starting with their initial pairing in Lady Vanishes, the team’s most famous work this side of Night. Crichton, keeping Radford and Wayne front-and-center, manages to keep a frivolous style generating through the romp, resulting in a pleasant diversion in the middle of the film, if one out-of-sorts with the more intense aspects surrounding the humorous venture.

The breezy tone of the fourth piece gives way to the most disturbing and frightening recollection, “The Ventriloquist’s Dummy,” directed by Cavalcanti with a superbly spinetingling touch.  Michael Redgrave, going about as far into a role as possible, is shatteringly effective in depicting the tortured mindset of Maxwell Frere, an expert ventriloquist sure his dummy, Hugo, is controlling the act and his master. Redgrave holds nothing back dramatically as he plunges the depths of despair to enact Maxwell’s tortuous, terror-ridden mindset, making a viewer uneasy with the naked emotionalism Redgrave utilizes in his brilliant illustration of a soul unhinged. With Cavalcanti’s uncompromisingly stark direction and Redgrave’s masterful performance, this justifiably renowned look at the how edgy the ventriloquist/dummy dynamic can be depicted on the screen is impossible to put out of mind, with visions of Frere’s increasingly paranoic state as his hold on sanity erodes, mixed with shots of the singularly sinister Hugo by his side, lingering in a viewer’s memory and serving as a basis of more than one Twilight Zone episode, as well as Magic, the 1978 Anthony Hopkins/Ann-Margret starred take on a similar theme, which may not cause the same trepidation as the Cavalcanti/Redgrave version, except for a trailer for the film that raised the hackles of many television viewers (“Abracadabra I sit on his knee. . .”) including a young, impressionable author that did not see the film for many years, even when old enough to do so, for fear of encountering “Fats,” an odious cousin to Hugo, for sure (only my love for Ann-Margret, who gives a lovely performance, finally made me succumb to a Magic watch). Following this ultra-fearsome episode, the film reaches an equally blood-curling climax as the panicked Walter comes face-to-face with his worst nightmares, followed by an unforgettable spooky twist to close an exceptionally engrossing cinematic look at several facets of the dark side. 

With its London release in September of 1945, Dead of Night created significant buzz as one of the strangest and most nerve-wracking films ever released, a stir which was replicated once the film made its way to American cinemas, even though for the initial U.S. release, “The Christmas Party” and “The Golfer’s Story” portions were omitted from prints, a situation rectified by physical media releases, including a current Kino Lorber Blu-Ray featuring the uncut film, an audio commentary and a documentary. The legacy of this spellbinding classic extends to the aforementioned Twilight Zone episodes and, specifically, other excursions into horror anthology such as Black Sabbath, Tales from the Crypt, Creepshow and beyond. However, few movies of the genre can match the lasting power to cause shivers aplenty than Dead of Night nearly 80 years after it first premiered. Even the staunchest of horror fans may want to invite a friend over and leave the lights on to keep their wits while viewing the indelible outing into the surreal, suspenseful world that encompasses Dead of Night.