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.
One of those films that was not treated overly well by critics but is beloved by fans the world over, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, shot lead Jim Carrey, then known to people mostly for being on In Living Color, into another stratosphere. The year 1994 was a good one for the comic and actor, as this film was followed soon after by The Mask and Dumb & Dumber, further adding to his meteoric rise. The next three years would further cement him as a true comic talent, as roles in Batman Forever, Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls, The Cable Guy and Liar Liar continuously hit viewers’ funny bones. Though, it was the character of Ace Ventura, which was co-written by Carrey, along with Jack Bernstein and Tom Shadyac (who also directed, and would work again with the actor in Liar Liar and Bruce Almighty), that first demonstrated his skills at physical comedy, mimicry, comedic timing and coining memorable catch phrases to be enjoyed by silver screen audiences.
Arriving at theatres a few months before the iconic 1960 Lewis Milestone film Ocean’s Eleven, Henry Hathaway’s Seven Thieves is its lesser known forerunner, yet despite being in its long casting shadow, it is a whole lot of fun. Set in Monte Carlo, disgraced professor and scientist Theo Wilkins (Edward G. Robinson) is the mastermind of a daring plot to rob a posh, extravagant casino in the picturesque Principality of Monaco. Uniting a talented group of shady individuals, the aging ringleader has called on longtime American acquaintance Paul Mason (Rod Steiger), a smart man who has worked with Wilkins before, hoping that he will be his right-hand man as well as the iron fist that will keep everyone in line.
It is rare to find a character so iconic that by simply uttering their last name, everyone is on point. One such case is Uhura. Brought to vivid life on the original Star Trek series (1966-1969) by the great Nichelle Nichols who developed an engaging, multi-faceted and wholly inspiring persona at a time when African American women were portrayed as maids or in other lowly servile positions on television. The fourth most powerful person on the USS Enterprise, Nichols was a part of a multicultural cast that was more than unusual for the era. The crew was comprised of African American, Asian American, Scottish, Russian (during The Cold War), half-alien, and white – symbolic that in the future, we, as human beings, would be able to come together to achieve something special, or as it was so aptly put: “Space: the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship, Enterprise. Its five year mission: to explore strange new worlds; to seek out new life and new civilizations; to boldly go where no man has gone before”.
Uttered in the opening narration, the oft quoted line “the rules are simple: once you go in, you don’t come out” is in many ways symbolic of how John Carpenter’s 1981 motion picture Escape From New York has ensnared a passionate cult following. Set in a dystopic America in 1997, the crime rate has risen by four hundred percent, and the island of Manhattan has become an Alcatraz of sorts, only infinitely more secure and bizarrely intense. Surrounded by a behemoth of a wall and patrolled by the United States Police Force, all bridges leading out of the city are mined, making for a doom laden locale that has a semblance of inescapability. Carpenter carefully transports us into this eerie world at the movie’s opening, providing us with an eagle-eyed perspective of Manhattan and its near impenetrable defences.
One of my favourite films as a young boy – wholly capturing my imagination, was the 1960 George Pal directed sci-fi adventure The Time Machine, based on the 1895 novel of the same name by iconic author H.G. Wells. It is this movie that has possibly fuelled my intrigue with clocks, pocket watches and other time oriented things (motion pictures definitely fit within this grouping). Set at the turn of the twentieth century, specifically on two days, December 31st, 1899/ January 5th, 1900, H. George Wells (Rod Taylor) is an inventor and time enthusiast, a peculiar fellow who has changed quite a bit in a short amount of time – at least according to his friends. Disenchanted by the warmongering of the British government (the Boer War) and the ways in which technology has been used to improve the efficiency of killing, the inventor looks to the future for hope in humanity.
An atmospheric noir that takes place on both land and sea, Michael Curtiz’s 1950 crime drama The Breaking Point, the second adaptation of Ernest Hemingway’s “To Have and Have Not” (the original, the 1944 version, utilized the novel’s title and paired Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall for the first time), is a gripping tale that never lets you go. A touch less cynical but just as fateful as your prototypical film noir, the narrative follows former marine Harry Morgan (John Garfield), a genuine yet gruff fishing boat captain who has never caught the break he has so hoped for. Working with his loyal-to-a-fault African American first mate, Wesley Park (Juano Hernandez), the pair have been together for twelve years, always just making ends meet.