brogmiller

This enjoyable wartime whodunnit is one of two 'B' films assigned to Fred Zinnemann after directing a series of 'shorts'. The other only has the advantage of a young Van Heflin whereas this one has a cast of colourful characters featuring the charismatic Edward Arnold as a blind(oops, sorry, 'visually impaired') detective who foils a gang of Nazis aided by his indomitable canine chum named Friday.

This might not have the psychological depth that one associates with this director but he has done his very best with the material at his disposal and already exhibits his legendary skill with actors. Despite the fact that Arnold had difficulty remembering his lines and saved his best for the eighth or ninth take and that Friday was good for only one take before getting bored and wandering off, Arnold is just as imposing as in his 'A' movies whilst Friday emerges as a real action hero in true Rin Tin Tin mould.

The film also benefits from the presence of classy Ann Harding, returning to film after a five-year hiatus and the always-good-value Stanley Ridges whilst Reginald Denny's upper lip is customarily stiff. Taking another step towards stardom is the twenty-year old Donna Reed who would win an Oscar in the next decade under Zinnemann's direction.

This was probably intended to be the first of a series but after a three-year gap the sequel directed by Richard Wharf proved alas far less effective and not nearly as entertaining.

Zinnemann had meanwhile moved on to bigger and better things and the rest, as they say, is history.

Inspired by Stuart N. Lake's supposed biography 'Wyatt Earp: Frontier Marshall', this classic western is the least historically accurate of the OK Corral movies but is undeniably the most poetic and typifies director John Ford's belief that if the legend is better than the truth, then you should 'print the legend'.

It is atmospherically shot by Joseph MacDonald and edited by 20th Century Fox stalwart Dorothy Spencer whose expertise in action sequences is evident in the elaborate final shoot-out. The casting is spot-on with even Victor Mature who was refreshingly honest about his limitations as an actor, giving a lifetime best performance as Doc Holliday. In keeping with the film's mythical tone the Earp brothers headed by Lincolnesque Henry Fonda are gentlemen whilst the Clantons are low-down varmints. On the distaff side is demure Cathy Downs and the luminous, ill-fated Linda Darnell.

Fast forward to 1962 and in 'The Man who shot Liberty Valance' Ford gives us a disillusioned revision of the town-taming western in which truth conquers legend although there is little doubt which Ford prefers.

Having purchased the rights to Patricia Highsmith's novel for $2000, Alfred Hitchcock commissioned Raymond Chandler to work on a screen treatment. Highsmith's original is mainly concerned with Guy's disintegration after having killed Bruno's father. In Hitchcock's version Guy's reluctance to commit murder is evidently a concession to censorship whilst the underlying 'gay' element is put right into the background although it is clearly there in Bruno's eyes.

In later years, when discussing this opus with Francois Truffaut, the director confessed his dissatisfation with the script and felt that Guy should have been played by a stronger actor which would have made the character's moral dilemma more effective.

Whatever its compromises the film leaves a deep impression courtesy of its unforgettable set pieces, dynamic editing and not least an utterly riveting portrayal of Bruno by Robert Walker in what was sadly to be his penultimate film. Many were surprised by it but his performances in 'Sea of Grass' and especially 'Vengeance Valley' from the same year had already revealed a darker side to his archetypally 'nice' persona. The best actors of course never cease to surprise and one can only lament his early demise.

Not only does this piece mark a welcome return to form for its director but in discovering the charm of villainy he is, in David Thomson's words: "charting out the ambiguity that would mean so much to him in the 1950's."

Francois Truffaut cast his net wide for source material and was instantly attracted to the account by Dr. Jean Itard of his tutelage of Victor, the 'wild child of Aveyron.' As one of the most autobiographical of directors, Itard's work could not fail to strike a chord with Truffaut who had suffered a neglected childhood and who retained a lifelong commitment to the well being of children.

Truffaut managed to obtain finance from United Artistes as part of a two-picture deal with 'La Sirene du Mississippi' but ironically it was the glitzy Deneuve/Belmondo vehicle that flopped whilst this black and white, near-documentary, Bressonesque style film with no star names did remarkably well.

It is coolly made but no less moving and combines simplicity of construction with depth of vision. Nestor Almendros, in the first of nine films for this director, has provided clean, shadowless cinematography whilst the use of Vivaldi is inspired. Truffaut has drawn a stupendous performance as Victor from gypsy-born Jean-Pierre Cargol who was fated to make only one further film over which it is kinder to pass in silence.

Some have queried Truffaut's decision to cast himself as Dr. Itard but for this viewer at any rate his clinical, detached, non-emotional portrayal suits the material perfectly.

The final scene would seem to offer a glimmer of hope but this is wishful thinking on Truffaut's part as the real Victor had to be brought back by gendarmes, never gained command of language and remained under supervision until his death at around forty.

Interesting to note that the film is dedicated to Jean-Pierre Léaud who had played the troublesome child in Truffaut's earlier 'Les Quatre Cent Coups' and who became the director's alter-ego.

Film Noir has been described as 'an elusive phenomenon' but devotees of the genre will of course recognise certain key ingredients such strangeness, eroticism, ambivalence and cruelty and this original screenplay by Philip Yordan with direction by Joseph H. Lewis qualifies on all counts.

Shot on a tight budget in a mere twenty-six days, this stylish piece belies its supposedly 'B' status. Robert Eisen's editing is taut, the shadowy noir style has been taken to its outer limits by master cinematographer John Alton, the jazz-derived score of David Raksin is powerful but never intrusive and the casting is, without exception, utterly faultless.

Unrecognised as such when first released, the passage of time has cemented its reputation as an undisputed classic of its type.

It is to be lamented that this version owes more to the stage adaptation by Hamilton Deane and John L. Balderston than to Bram Stoker's classic novel.

The stage origins are all too obvious, especially when the setting moves to London but the whole enterprise is redeemed by Bela Lugosi's total embodiment of the title character, having played him for three years in the theatre; Charles D. Hall's magnificent sets and not least the cinematography of the legendary Karl Freund who also contributed to the direction as the usually meticulous Tod Browning seemed to have lost interest in the project.

Released on St. Valentine's Day and advertised as 'The strangest love story of them all'(!) the film fared extremely well at the box office and established the image of a Dracula who is perfectly groomed, tuxedoed and a wee bit 'camp'.

It is however the infinitely more frightening 'Nosferatu' of Murnau and its remake by Herzog that show Vampirism as far from glamorous but as a pestilential, contageous disease. A literary work often reflects its author and it is interesting to note that Bram Stoker was to die from Tertiary Syphilis.

Devotees of the inimitable Ernst Lubitsch will have plenty to savour here, not least the liberal sprinkling of sexual metaphors which reflect its pre-Code status and an ending that elevates so much of what has gone before.

Maurice Chevalier's showmanship is undeniable and he performs the far from memorable musical numbers with his customary ésprit whilst Claudette Colbert shines in what is for her a rather flimsy role. Her highlight is the delectable duet 'Jazz up your lingerie' with Miriam Hopkins as Princess Anna whose character is the most layered and whose gradual transition from naiveté to carnality is a wonder to behold. Her appearance in this paved the way for her splendid performances in 'Design for Living' and 'Trouble in Paradise' for the same director.

Very much of its time and probably not everyone's tasse de thé, this is entertainment pure and simple although of course Herr Lubitsch is seldom pure and never simple.

Adapted from a story by Ketty Frings(based on fact) by Billy Wilder and Charles Brackett, this is directed by Mitchell Leisen whose finest film this is considered to be. Wilder often criticised Leisen for 'softening' his scripts but one would have to say that Wilder himself would have given us an altogether less humane rendition and a more acidic ending.

This stylish and touching piece is a mixture of romance and social commentary with a cast of engaging characters and standout performances by its two leading players. Even by her standards Olivia de Havilland is magnificent and her Oscar-nominated portrayal suspends our disbelief in her character's naiveté whilst Charles Boyer's subtle expressions make his transition from rottenness to redemption utterly believable.

The difficulty of obtaining visas and work permits would have struck a chord with many in the Hollywood community, not least Mr. Wilder who offers a critique of pre-war isolationist America, especially in the scene where an immigration official, well-played by Walter Abel, mistakenly thinks that the words at the base of the Statue of Liberty are not those of Emma Lazarus but are from Jefferson's Declaration of Independence!

This is generally considered the greatest of the nine films featuring the magical partnership of Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn and like the later 'Pat and Mike', is brilliantly scripted by Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin with George Cukor in the director's chair. The film presents a fascinating 'mix' as all of Cukor's comedies possess dramatic substance whilst the writers have taken the inherent theatricality of the courtroom situation to outrageous and hilarious lengths including a marvellous turn by Hope Emerson as a circus performer.

The characters portrayed by Tracy and Hepburn have been suggested by real life husband-and-wife-lawyers William and Dorothy Whitney who represented Mr. And Mrs. Raymond Massey in their divorce, then divorced each other and married their respective clients! No such extremes here but when Pinky and Pinkie find themselves on opposite sides during an attempted murder trial, the battle soon extends from the courtroom to the bedroom.

The chemistry and impeccable comedic timing of its two leading players is again a wonder to behold whilst David Wayne, Tom Ewell and Jean Hagen are delicious in support. The film launched the meteoric but tragically short career of the immensely talented Judy Holliday who cleverly plays a dummy.

The film itself foreshadows feminism but in the Hollywood of the Forties subversion can only go so far as there has to be a happy ending. Although some of the arguments seem rather quaint by today's standards, the film's sophistication and superb artistry remain timeless.

Ingmar Bergman lays claim to being not only Sweden's greatest film maker but also one of its most renowned theatre directors and only a man steeped in theatrical tradition could have created this magnificent piece. Written very much in the tradition of Marivaux with echoes of Beaumarchais and Feydeau, it is a profound satire on the mores, social conventions, illusions and pretensions of the turn of the century haute bourgeoisie. Bergman being Bergman of course, it is at times sardonic, cruel and contains liberal doses of humiliation, that most dreadful of life's companions without which no film of his would be complete.

It was Bergman's habit to concentrate on the theatre during the Winter months and start filming from Spring onwards which ideally suits cinematographer Gunner Fischer who captures the glorious, sensuous light. Bergman is noted for his unforgiving close-ups but here all of his women look absolutely ravishing. The ensemble playing is of the highest order and Bergman has followed in the footsteps of Moliere by making stereotypical characters three-dimensional.

Bergman's relationship with Harriet Andersson had by now run its course and Bibi Andersson who was on stand-by in case Ulla Jacobsson's pregnancy became too evident on camera and who has to settle for a brief, non-speaking role, would soon become the director's next muse and exert a profound influence on his work.

During the writing and direction of this film Bergman was at a low ebb physically, mentally and financially but Svensk Filmindustri came to his rescue by investing in the project. Not only did the film bring him belated recognition internationally it granted him the prestige and independence to do virtually anything he desired. Let us give thanks.

Directed by that renowned chronicler of macho pursuits, Howard Hawks, this sweeping and majestic cow opera puts all the other cattle drive westerns firmly in the shade as well as providing strong roles for John Wayne who had made his debut in 1929 and new kid on the block Montgomery Clift in his first screen appearance. Wayne's character in this is both hero and villain which enables him to really come of age as an actor whilst Clift who is not exactly ideal casting on paper as a cow poke, brings his accustomed sensitivity into play. Despite or perhaps because of their diametrically opposed acting styles they present a fascinating dynamic rarely matched in films of this type. It is a great pity therefore that the tensions between them built up over two hours are undercut by a silly, sentimental ending which is totally different from Borden Chase's original. By all accounts Chase loathed the change but of course in the Hollywood of that time it would have been inconceiveable for leading man Wayne to be shot dead.

The potential rivalry between John Ireland as Vallance and Clift as Garth is established early on but fails to deliver and although gorgeous Joanne Dru has an excellent scene where Wayne asks her to bear him a son, her character is mostly required to prattle.

Luckily the film is strong enough in every other aspect to rise above these shortcomings. Russell Harlen's cinematography classically composes cow, horse and landscape and credit must go to second unit director Arthur Rossen for some cattle drive/action sequences. There are a few passing nods to John Ford not least Dimitri Tiomkin's folk song-based score whilst the recurring song 'Settle Down' was to be used again by Hawks in 'Rio Bravo' albeit in an altogether different guise! Mention must be made of the silver bracelet which provides a touching and dramatic link between the main characters.

Talking of John Ford, he it was who gave his protegée Wayne the ultimate accolade after seeing this film: "I never knew the big son of a ***** could act."

Faced with the inexplicably hostile response to 'Sawdust and Tinsel', Ingmar Bergman felt obliged to make something that would be of wider appeal and the result is a romantic comedy in which Gunner Bjornstrand and Eva Dahlbeck develop the chemistry and comedic timing they had shown in Bergman's earlier 'Waiting Women.' They certainly do justice to his sparkling and intelligent dialogue and he was fulsome in his praise of their invaluable contribution which convinced him that a 'collaborative' style of direction would achieve the best results. Bjornstrand of course remains one of Bergman's most renowned artistes whereas Miss Dahlbeck is alas, one of his most forgotten.

It would not be Bergman of course without a touch of the autobiographical. His affair with Harriet Andersson had broken up his marriage to his third wife who is probably the insiration for the character of Marianne and although he fundamentally believed in the married state, he was all too aware of his failings as a husband.

Bergman's intention here is 'to have fun at mine and my fellow human beings' expense.'

This delectable piece can be savoured as an hors d'oeuvre to the main course of 'Smiles of a Summer Night'.

Where on earth does one begin with this bizarre opus? Charles K. Feldman had bought the rights to 'Casino Royale', the first of Fleming's Bond books, almost a decade before the release of 'Dr. No' but chose not to film it until further films starring Sean Connery had established James Bond as internationally bankable. The original 'straight' screenplay he commissioned from Ben Hecht was never used and Feldman made the bewildering decision to film it as a spoof, no doubt spurred on by the success of his earlier ramshackle mess 'What's New, Pussycat?'

A final budget of $12m, no less than ten writers, only three of whom are credited(luckily for the other seven) and five directors, the film hops through far too many moods and genres whilst the humour is distinctly uneven.

The overall lunacy is however punctuated with individual scenes to savour, notably those between Peter Sellers and Ursula Andress; David Niven and Deborah Kerr. Woody Allen is hilarious during his brief screen time and seems to be performing in an entirely different movie whilst Orson Welles is again doing a self-parody to finance his struggling artistic ventures. Well documented is the mutual antipathy between awesome Orson and insecure Sellers which results in their never being on-screen together in the scenes they share.

The production/art design are splendid, ranging fron psychedelic sixties to the German Expressionism of 'The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari'. It is beautifully shot in Panavision whilst the editing succeeds in giving an illusion of cohesion. Special mention must be made of Burt Bacharach's fabulous score.

All-in-all this is a venture swamped by its own magnitude and aptly described by one critic as 'a story without focus, a joke without a punchline'. Woody Allen's own verdict is more succinct:' It is unfunny burlesque'.

Some films it seems are doomed from the outset. Designed as a vehicle for Howard Hughes 'discovery' Faith Domergue, this unutterably dreary, lacklustre version of Prosper Merimée's 'Colomba' was finally released four years after its conception and was given an universal thumbs down.

Infinitely more dramatic than the film itself is the troubled production with Max Ophuls given the old heave-ho early on by the meddling Hughes and replaced by Stuart Heisler who is probably responsible for two thirds of it but is, happily for him, uncredited. Last up is Mel Ferrer who has the dubious distinction of sole directorial credit.

Devoid of passion and momentum this damp squib of a movie is a monumental waste of money but certainly not a waste of talent as there is precious little of that on display with only Nigel Bruce and Joseph Calleia providing some substance. The rest of the cast is uniformly mediocre. As for Miss Domergue she was given an expensive build up but Joe Public simply wasn't buying it.

The film's failure must have given the discarded Ophuls great satisfaction and he was of course to get his revenge as Robert Ryan's megalomaniacal Smith Ohlrig in 'Caught' is a thinly veiled portrait of you-know-who.

In 1961 Akira Kurosawa read Ed McBain's pulp paperback 'King's Ransom', the tenth in his popular 87th Precinct series and Toho Studios purchased the rights for $5,000. He and his regular collaborators have taken the kidnap plot and fashioned a screenplay which not only transcends that genre but remains arguably the greatest of its type. Once the ransom has been paid and the victim returned the film becomes an astutely observed and thrilling 'police procedural'.

This has been described as 'Stray Dog on steroids', and one can see how Kurosawa's confidence and mastery of the medium have developed in the thirteen years since that first police procedural. His compositional skills are exemplary in the way be stylishly manoeuvres his actors in close quarters whether they be King Gondo's living room, police headquarters, crowded night club or drug den.

Kurosawa evidently saw the potential in McBain's novel for social commentary as his film reflects Japan's catastrophic post-war socioeconomic divide and the moral corruption that exists on every level of society.

As one expects from this director all of the characters are three-dimensional with stunning performances from Kurosawa regulars Toshiro Mifune, Tatsuya Nakadai and Tsutomo Yamakazi. When, in the brilliant closing duologue, Mifune's Gondo asks the Takeuchi of Yamakazi: "Why do we have to hate one another?" we realise that these two men are essentially both sides of the same coin and that the gulf between human beings is seemingly unbridgeable.

Most of the action of this haunting and terrifying film takes place halfway between midnight and dawn, the hour that F. Scott Fitzgerald called 'the dark night of the soul'. Ingmar Bergman wrote his screenplay in isolation on the island of Faro in a quiet room where he also slept but was compelled to cease writing as 'the demons would come to me and wake me up and they would stand there and talk to me'.

Even by this director's standards this is an intensely personal project and is the first of three films in which the magnificent Max von Sydow plays Bergman's alter-ego, a sensitive man who cannot escape his demons. In each of the three films Bergman's latest muse Liv Ullman, stamps her personality on his work as von Sydow's wife.

It has been described by many as a horror film and indeed has been inspired by Bergman's fondness for Bram Stoker's 'Dracula', especially Tod Browning's film from 1931 and in this Georg Ryderberg as Lindhorst stands in for Bela Lugosi. The influence of E. T. A. Hoffmann is also apparent. This also represents another of Bergman's variations on his theme of Humiliation as 'one of the most dreadful companions of humanity.'

Cinematographer Sven Nykvist contrasts harsh, gleaming light and deep shadows to underline the all-pervading nightmarishness whilst his camerawork in the dinner scene is exemplary. A gallery of grotesques to savour and Ingrid Thulin at her most seductive.

Certainly not everyone's cup of tea but essential viewing for those few who appreciate the genius of a director described by Fellini as the most 'complete cinematographic creator I have seen.'

Francois Truffaut again draws on the pulp fiction of the prolific William Irish as he had for the earlier 'La Mariée était en Noir' and given us a stylish study of amour passionnel featuring Catherine Deneuve and Jean-Paul Belmondo at the height of their popularity.

A potent mix of pastiche and pessimism, the film was far from being a commercial success due mainly to the apparent casting 'against type' of Belmondo in the passive role of the classic noir dupe. This artiste has in fact been trapped by his machismo persona to the extent that his boxing chums asked him why he had allowed himself to be 'messed around by that chick'. Mlle Deneuve is pitch-perfect as Julie/Marion and employs her trademark opaqueness to great effect as a shady lady. Inveterate scene-stealer Michel Bouquet makes his presence felt as a private detective.

Truffaut directs with panache and technical polish but the injudicious cutting for American distribution robbed the film of its cohesiveness.

The ending is delightfully ambiguous as the couple walk off together into a snow-capped landscape and is a direct reference to the final shot of Renoir's 'La Grande Illusion'. What does their future hold and is Love itself the great illusion?

After the poor reception given to 'La Peau Douce'(now regarded as a classic) and 'Fahrenheit 45I' (the jury is still out on that one) Francois Truffaut was sorely in need of a coffer filler and found it with this adaptation of a novel by William Irish aka Cornell Woolrich who would also supply the source material for his later 'La Siréne du Mississippi'. Irish had of course provided the inspiration for Hitchcock's 'Rear Window' and Truffaut's revenge thriller has been consciously made in the Hitchcockian style, even to the point of hiring Bernard Herrmann to compose the score. The film happened to follow the publication of Truffaut's famous series of interviews with the Master.

The film is essentially an entertaining and intriguing exercise in the mechanics of suspense and once the reasons for Julie's actions are revealed the fascination for the viewer lies in how she will execute them.

The glossy locales are shot by Raoul Coutard, the single-minded, meticulous killer is chillingly portrayed by charismatic Jeanne Moreau and there are splendid cameos from Claude Rich as the vain Bliss, Michel Bouquet as dreamer Coral, the pompous Morane of Michel Lonsdale and the brutal Delvaux of Daniel Boulanger whilst the psyche of a womaniser like Fergus would be further explored by Charles Denner and Truffaut in 'L'Homme qui aimait les Femmes'.

Truffaut was of the opinion that the film would have been more effective in black and white and also expressed the view that his leading lady was not especially suited to colour. Neither of these factors lessened the box office appeal however and Truffaut has furthermore succeeded in fusing the French New Wave with the Hollywood tradition.

Brigitte Bardot, still with us at eighty-nine, harbours no illusions about her career and cites very few of her films as being worthwhile. One would be astonished were this opus of Henri-Georges Clouzot not among them for this renowned taskmaster has evinced what is arguably her best performance, winning her a David di Donatello. Written with her in mind, BB's 'sex-kitten' image and 'liberated' lifestyle renders her character's downward spiral all the more dramatic. This is definitely a case of Life mirroring Art for her brief off-screen relationship with on-screen lover Sami Frey who didn't stick around for long, led to the break up of her marriage and she was to attempt suicide by slitting her wrists not long after completion of the film.

By far the most telling scenes are those in the courtroom where Clouzot is able to exercise his cynical view of the human race for it is not so much Dominique who is on trial but hypocrisy, public fascination with the salacious and the pre-judgement by its elders of a younger generation's so called 'immorality'. Three of France's finest actors represent the moral ambivalence of the legal system: Louis Seigner is a far rom neutral judge whilst Paul Meurisse and Charles Vanel as prosecuting and defence counsels regard the law as something of a game. Sami Frey convinces as an aspiring, egotistical orchestral conductor whose elevated art must inevitably take priority and Marie-José Nat offers a perfect contrast as Dominique's 'goody-two-shoes' sister.

This is a must for Clouzot devotees of which this viewer is one but despite being professionally made with some telling scenes, the relatively undistinguished script which betrays the work of too many hands plus a certain 'glibness', prevent its being one of his greatest.

This harrowing and riveting work has been adapted by Ulla Isaksson from a medieval ballad that had achieved legendary status in Nordic lands. Indeed the spring which is said to have welled up beneath the corpse of the unfortunate Karin still exists in the churchyard of the Karna parish and is believed to have healing powers.

It is a film that contrasts light and dark, tenderness and brutality, Christianity and Paganism as well as depicting the questioning of faith, a dominant theme in this director's oeuvre.

Bergman himself was somewhat dismissive of the film and went so far as to call it 'a lousy imitation of Kurosawa'. In this one feels he was being unduly harsh although there are echoes of Kurosawa in the rhythms and telling silences whilst the moral ambivalence brings 'Rashomon' to mind. One can also detect the influence of the silent films of Victor Sjostrom where the primal, natural environment becomes an active participant in the plot. The effectiveness or otherwise of the choir at the very end is of course down to the individual viewer.

Although Sven Nykvist had contributed to the filming of Bergman's earlier 'Sawdust and Tinsel', their rapport was instant and from this film onwards he replaced Gunner Fischer as this director's principal cinematographer. The suitably sparse score by Erik Nordgren comprises two modern flutes as requested by the director although the composer would have preferred recorders.

The wonderfully 'true' performances testify to Bergman's supreme gift with actors ranging from the iconic Max von Sydow's patriarch to the mute boy of Ove Porath. Bergman not only furthered the careers of his players but also felt secure in their talents.

Much lauded and awarded when first released the film has since acquired the dubious distinction of inspiring Wes Craven's 'Last House on the Left' and subsequent rape/revenge subgenre horrors.

It deserves a better fate.

Anthony Mann and James Stewart had a rewarding working relationship which yielded no less than eight films. Nothing lasts forever alas and when Mann pulled out of what would have been their sixth Western due to his concerns regarding Borden Chase's poor script and the casting of Audie Murphy, the film was entrusted to journeyman James Neilson. One would have to say that the result epitomises the difference between a great and not-so-great director.

Chase has utilised the good brother/bad brother element from his earlier 'Winchester'73' and again gives Stewart the chance to show the darker edge that was very much part of his post war persona but the script is simply not up to his usual standard. Filmed in Technirama by veteran William Daniels, the exterior shots are splendid but these are offset by some obvious soundstage footage, process shots and day-for-night shooting. The inimitable score by Dimitri Tiomkin is a definite plus and helps the action sequences along.

An obvious selling point was that in Stewart and Murphy the film boasted not one but two WW11 heroes. In his only 'villainous' role Murphy is surprisingly effective but had earlier proved himself a poor substitute for Stewart in George Marshall's limp remake of his own 'Destry'.

Great support from an outrageous Dan Duryrea and the appealing but ill-fated Brandon de Wilde whilst the roles of Dianne Foster and Elaine Stewart are somewhat underwritten.

All-in-all, pretty standard for the genre and a minor entry in the Stewart canon. Even more regrettable is that Mann's harsh comments about the finished film only served to deepen the rift between the director and his star actor who would never again collaborate.

Although far from being a first tier director André de Toth was never less than capable and has done a good job with this loose adaptation of a paperback potboiler by Jay Dratler.

This is another variation on the theme of 'cherchez la femme' but here the 'femme' is unwittingly 'fatale' whilst her victim is not dragged inexorably towards his doom but in fact gets off rather lightly. Too lightly it appears for the dreaded Hays Code which considered adultery as unpardonable as murder. The cunning de Toth overcame this obstacle by reminding two of its senior members that they both had wives and mistresses and as expected, nothing more was said.

The film has the benefit of an intriguing cast headed by former song and dance man Dick Powell who had reinvented himself as a toughie in 'Murder, my Sweet' and whose laconic style is used here to great effect. The object of his desire is played by Lizabeth Scott who had more than her fair share of detractors throughout her career but whose indefinable star quality makes her eminently watchable. She engages our sympathy which makes her character's fate all the more touching. Strong support from Jane Wyatt whose role as the understanding wife is well written and a wonderfully creepy Raymond Burr.

De Toth never disguised his low opinion regarding the films of Alfred Hitchcock and ironically, although this 'noir' has its moments, it most assuredly lacks the touch of the Master.

It comes as no surprise that Elia Kazan first offered the leading role in this to Marlon Brando but unable to secure his services he has cast Kirk Douglas whose 'pragmatic' approach to acting is diametrically opposed to those with whom this director traditionally preferred to work. It must be said however that Douglas' strong performance pretty well succeeds in overcoming the rather ponderous, incohesive material.

In what is essentially a mid-life crisis movie, Deborah Kerr fares worst in the utterly thankless role of the understanding wife whilst her style of acting seems strangely out of place. Faye Dunaway as the 'other woman' had previously worked with Kazan in the theatre and her pitch-perfect performance in this rates as arguably one of her finest. As the family lawyer Hume Cronyn, although diiminuitive in stature, is a towering talent who effortlessly steals his scenes. Richard Boone is suitably monstrous an an overbearing patriarch but whose thick accent renders his dialogue practically inaudible.

The film's themes of the insidious nature of advertising, the psychological pressures of expectation and the potentially soul-destroying effects of an oppressive society are of course timeless and more relevant now than ever.

The hostile critical reaction at the time seems unduly harsh but despite some telling scenes, Kazan's attempt at profundity must alas, for this viewer at rate, be accounted a failure.

Not only does Albert Band's film belie its 'B' status, it also lays claim to being one of the best of that much-maligned genre, the low budget, Hollywood Horror 'quickie.'

Frederick Gately's moody cinematography heightens the sense of foreboding and although perhaps not the most subtle, Gerald Fried's score is suitably ominous. The cast is headed by two indisputable 'A' listers, craggy Richard Boone and chameleon Theodore Bikel. The former gets to exhibit a seldom seen softer side whilst his increasing paranoia is a wonder to behold. Bikel of course was eminently employable as his linguistic gifts and ear for dialects enabled him to play a myriad of characters of different nationalities and ethnic backgrounds. His Scottish brogue here is commendable and although only thirty-four, he has been transformed into an elderly cemetery caretaker by master make-up artist, Jack P. Pearce. The most striking feature of the film is how the cemetery map assumes a life of its own and becomes a malignant force.

It must be said that the film's effectiveness is weakened by a pat, conventional ending but is simply adhering to the old Hollywood Rule Book which dictates that the good guy must win.

This remains nevertheless essential viewing for those who are devotees of the genre and a revelation for those of us who are not.

By the time Alfred Hitchcock made this, his fiftieth film, critics were respectful but reserved their praise for his imitators. Although it was dismissed by some as dated and stilted, Hitchcock's name on the marquee could still draw the crowds and the presence of Paul Newman and Julie Andrews boded well for box office receipts.

Unfortunately, for this viewer at any rate, these two artistes are not only miscast but mismatched whilst Newman's 'Method' approach with its perpetual search for 'motivation' caused Hitchcock the same frustration as had Montgomery Clift during the filming of 'I Confess'.

There are compensations however in the supporting cast notably Wolfgang Kieling, Ludwig Donath, David Opotashu, Lila Kedrova and Carolyn Conwell.

The film itself is something of a curate's egg and its good parts are the scene where one scientist picks the brain of another scientist so as to discover the formula which is the film's MacGuffin and of course the killing of Gromek which is masterfully filmed and edited and although it is a pity that Bernard Hermann's original score was discarded one feels that this particular scene is more telling without music. In keeping with the locale and characters, the improvised use of household objects: a kettle full of soup, a carving knife, a shovel and finally a gas oven serve to accentuate the gruesomeness. Its effectiveness is heightened by the fact that the deed is done not by professional assassins but by 'ordinary' people who are forced to kill in order to survive.

It is not at all unusual for the form of even the best directors to dip as they descend into the vale of years and Hitchcock was further weakened when deprived of his favourite stars, his director of cinematography, his composer and his chief editor. This did not augur well and the three films he made during the next ten years were to be of decidedly mixed quality.