A film noir with some eccentricities, The Big Steal (1949), directed by then third time film maker Don Siegel (who would go on to make such greats as Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Dirty Harry, and Escape from Alcatraz), plays like a long chase within a longer chase, while the meeting between gent and femme is something akin to a will they/won’t they screwball comedy. The usually laconic Lt. Duke Halliday (Robert Mitchum) is in quite the conundrum, as he has been robbed of a U.S. Army payroll totaling a whopping three hundred grand by swindler Jim Fiske (Patric Knowles). On the lam in Mexico (a rather rare noir location, also think Ride the Pink Horse and Touch of Evil), Halliday is on his trail... but the problem is, so is his superior – Captain Vincent Blake (William Bendix), who, of course, thinks it was actually the Lieutenant who ran off with the money.
An overtly cheerful vacation romp to the French countryside. . . until it isn’t, 1946's So Dark the Night, directed by Joseph H. Lewis (Gun Crazy), transforms from unexpected romance to film noir murder mystery in the blink of an eye. Following famous Parisian detective Henri Cassin (Steven Geray), the man is finally getting his long awaited vacation. Though those within the station talk about his recent stress level, the portly, closing-in-on-retirement detective seems in very good spirits.
The third of four films made by the husband and wife dream team of Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, 1947's Dark Passage, written and directed by Delmer Daves (Destination Tokyo), is perhaps one of the most unique film noirs of the classical era. Not revealing star Humphrey Bogart’s face until sixty-two minutes into the movie, studio head Jack L. Warner (Warner Bros), upon learning this, was absolutely furious. . . but, the film was already so far into production that nothing could be done.
Celebrating its 70th anniversary this 2019, Disney’s The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949) is perhaps one of the most bizarre pairings of stories ever to hit movie theatres. . . Coupling Kenneth Grahame’s iconic children’s novel “The Wind In the Willows” with Washington Irving’s gothic horror story “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”, you may be wondering what these two tales have in common. . . in short, absolutely nothing (it was actually due to reduced manpower during World War 2 that six movies – this being the last, were released in these combined and shortened formats). Woven together by a narrated battle of the greatest characters ever to grace British and American shores, English narrator Basil Rathbone (most famous for playing Sherlock Holmes) selects the former story, while Washingtonian Bing Crosby (singer/actor) highlights the latter. . . two more rich, melodious voices you will not find.
Celebrating its 80th anniversary this 2019, the Son of Frankenstein (1939), directed by Rowland V. Lee, is the third film in the franchise – following Frankenstein (1931) and Bride of Frankenstein (1935), the last to feature Boris Karloff in the role of the monster, and the first to insert Bela Lugosi as Ygor. . . pairing two of the most iconic horror actors together was a smart move for Universal – the movie was a mammoth hit. All centred on the dramatic, pencil mustached Baron Wolf von Frankenstein (Basil Rathbone – arguably the greatest portrayer of Sherlock Holmes), he is the son of the original mad doctor. . . and is returning home with his slightly twitchy wife Elsa (Josephine Hutchinson) and young son Peter (Donnie Dunagan) – a cute, fear nothing lad whose accent is an eccentric delight, to claim his inheritance – much to the chagrin of the still terrified townsfolk.
A lieutenant officer working the first day on the job, a group of prisoners being transported to a high security facility, a father and daughter looking for their nanny’s home, and a mysterious interracial inner city gang. . . what do they all have in common? They all almost fatefully find their way to an emptied police precinct on the verge of closure in John Carpenter’s 1976 low budget cult classic Assault on Precinct 13. Only John Carpenter’s second feature film, the writer/director weaves these four stories together, a doomed pacing drawing them all to one location for a single fateful night. The officer is Ethan Bishop (Austin Stoker), an African American working his first day on the job. . . given a seemingly uneventful task, he is the man in charge of the derelict Precinct 13 – a semi-closed location that will have its power and telephone lines shut off the next morning. The only remaining skeleton staff are: Sergeant Chaney (Henry Brandon) and a pair of secretaries, Leigh (Laurie Zimmer) and Julie (Nancy Kyes).
You’ve got to give credit to guerrilla film making. Usually encompassing a newish director and actors, a limited budget, rebellious on-location shoots, and a certain disregard for rules and regulations (mostly due to a lack of money), some of cinemas most unique and creative pictures have come from this cheap form of movie making. Think Rocky, The Evil Dead, El Mariachi, Clerks, and today’s motion picture, Mad Max (1979). Made for 400 thousand Australian dollars, it went on to make more than 100 million US worldwide – at that point holding the Guinness Book of World Records for most profitable film (only losing it in 1999 to The Blair Witch Project). Putting writer/director George Miller and star Mel Gibson (in his first leading role) on the map, it also thrust Australian New Wave cinema into global consciousness, while bringing forth a surge in dystopic movies that dealt with similar ideas and themes. In fact, it was such a success, it also spawned three sequels – Mad Max 2 aka The Road Warrior (1981), Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985), and the Gibson-less Mad Max: Fury Road (2015). . . this most recent effort considered an instant classic (and one of the best reviewed films of the year).