Hammer Horror?

It’s intriguing to think how time tends to shrink an actors or directors filmography. . . the passing years seeming to erase movies (be them lesser, unrelatable to present viewpoints, simply lost to time, or so on). For instance, Lionel Barrymore – once one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, a two time Academy Award nominee (and one time winner), is mostly known for his cantankerous and utterly realistic portrayal of villainy as Mr. Potter in the Frank Capra Christmas classic It’s a Wonderful Life. In actuality, he has an impressive 217 acting credits to his name, while many may not even know that he was also a director. . . today’s film his fourteenth and final credited effort – Ten Cents a Dance (1931). A title pulled from a popular 1930 song of the same name (written by Richard Rodgers, lyrics by Lorenz Hart, originally sung by Ruth Etting), the playful, jazzy romp sways over both the opening credits as well as when the screen turns black at the end of the film. A tune lamenting the work of a taxi dancer, that is, a girl hired to shimmy with libidinous men at a happening nightclub for ten cents a dance, poor Barbara O’Neill (Barbara Stanwyck) is our titular character.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned – there is no doubt Pre-Code cinema thrived on this ancient idiom. A prime example is George B. Seitz’s 1931 romance driven drama, Arizona (based on a famous play of the time written by Augustus Thomas). Poor Evelyn Palmer (Laura La Plante) – she’s been in a very secretive romantic tryst with one of the Army’s top up and comers, Lt. Bob Denton (a very early starring role for John Wayne). Charming, debonair, and a supreme athlete (he’s the star full back in the annual Army-Navy football game... they even send him in to kick the extra point to win the game), Evelyn has spent the last two years of her life courting the catch. . . only for him to break it off after his memorable performance (saying he never planned on marrying her after all).

Wow – what a tagline: “One will die tonight! The girl on the loose, the smart secretary... they’re too teasing...too tempting...too easy a target for a crazed killer!”. 1957's The Girl in Black Stockings, coming from famed producer and sometime director Howard W. Koch, is a B budget film noir that really demonstrates its influence as a precursor to the gialli and slasher films that would follow some fifteen or so years later. Nearly entirely set in one location, welcome to the small town of Kanab, Utah... a population of three thousand that houses within it the relaxing Parry Lodge – a perfect place for those looking to escape their stressful lives. Run by a brother and sister, Edmund Parry (Ron Randell) is a clench jawed cynic (likely stemming from the fact he is a quadriplegic), often spouting cheerful lines like, “I’d like to get so drunk I’d look in a mirror and spit in my own face”, while Julia (Marie Windsor – The Killing) is everything to him but wife (but that doesn’t mean she’s not jealous when a woman shows him any attention).

Sometimes the heat makes us go a little crazy. Likewise, alcohol can have a similar effect... pair them both together, and all bets are off. Transporting us into the dog days of summer in the City That Never Sleeps, Deadline at Dawn (1946), directed by Harold Clurman (the only feature made by the legendary stage director), is full of drunken danger. With perspiration dripping from every pore, baby-face Navy sailor Alex Winkler (Bill Williams) finds himself waking from a nasty bender at a New York City newsstand. . . if that wasn’t bad enough, he discovers a wad of cash that isn’t his and a faint memory of stealing it from loose femme Edna Bartelli (Lola Lane), a slinky blackmailer who’s definitely on the fatale side.

The heat can make us all go a little bit crazy sometimes... but what happens when the thermometer is ready to pop and you’ve just escaped from the insane asylum? A confined, claustrophobic, sweltering film noir, 1950's Dial 1119, directed by Gerald Mayer (son of Louis B. Mayer), makes you feel the heat. Young, baby faced Gunther Wyckoff (Marshall Thompson) isn’t what he looks, he is, for lack of a better term, bonkers. Having already killed numerous people, it was police psychologist Dr. John Faron (Sam Levene), who was able to save his life from the electric chair.

You know you’ve got a budgetary problem when you find yourself on Poverty Row. For those of you who do not know, this was the slang term used for a group of low budget Hollywood B movie studios that existed in the City of Angels from the 20s to 50s. Transcending these financial constraints to make a quality film noir, director Edgar G. Ulmer used all the proverbial tricks in the book to develop Detour (1945). Told in a most unique way, a quasi-soliloquy narration transitions to nightmarish flashbacks as Al Roberts (Tom Neal) recounts his fatefully nihilistic tale (you might never see a more downtrodden visage). A cynical man, even before his girlfriend (closing in on fiancée), Sue Harvey (Claudia Drake), decides to leave him to make her own breaks in Hollywood, he is the prototypical down on his luck protagonist. It’s not like he doesn’t have a skill – a piano virtuoso, he can only find a job tinkling the ivories at a crummy nightclub in fog strewn NYC (fog was a useful tool for low budget productions that didn’t have the money for sets).