Sheriff Jess Holmes: “I don’t have to be crazy to know I have a real crazy one on my hands.”
Va-va-voom – the sultry original half sheet poster for The Girl in Black Stockings
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).
The hub of this small town – a place where the rich, famous, young and beautiful gather, it shakes the tightknit community when the body of a stunning young local woman is found near their outdoor dance hall – which sits next to a serene lake. In a place where one murder is considered too high of a rate, the Sheriff, Jess Holmes (John Dehner), is clearly out of his league.
At least smart enough to ask the guests (and employees) not to leave the lodge, he starts questioning each and every one of them. There’s David Hewson (Lex Barker – former Tarzan whose real life story turns as dark and disturbing as a noir) – a big city lawyer and eligible bachelor who is falling in love with the Parry’s relatively new employee, Beth (Anne Bancroft – The Graduate) – who shuns his kisses and hides a dark secret from her past; Joe (Larry Chance) – a frequently drunk Native American who is found rambling with the murder weapon in hand (the Sheriff believes he saw the murderer rather than committing the crime); mysterious newcomer Felton (Gene O’Donnell) – rumours swirl that he might be a possible private eye investigating a case; dwindling actor Norman Grant (John Holland). . . who only has one fan left, L.A. model Harriet Ames (Mamie Van Doren) – the couple are frequently drunk as skunks; young Louise Miles (Diana Van der Vlis) – a shunned blonde who always seems to choose the wrong type of guy; overworked doctor John Aitkin (Richard H. Cutting) – he never seems to have the time to help the Sheriff; logger Frankie (Jerry Frank) – who, as the Sheriff exclaims, “had all the big man scared out of him”; and a sketchy bartender (Dan Blocker – Bonanza) – who likes to pocket money instead of putting it in the till.
Leading some to drink, others to live their lives, and David to become amateur sleuth, his big city mind and astute gaze start to pick up troubling observations – jealousy, betrayal, debauchery. . . but will any of these things bring him to the murderer? Soon, several other guests will die, and it is clear a serial killer is ravaging this small town oasis. Will it be the Sheriff or David who solves the perplexing case? Might the Sheriff be right in thinking Parry is faking his debilitating condition? Questions will pile upon questions, kind of like the bodies. . . and your instincts aren’t to be trusted, for each character is so damaged, their Hollywood good-looks only act as facades to mislead.
Though it comes off a bit wordy (making it feel a tad slower than your typical noir – the very static location enhances this as well), there is a lot to like here. As if filmed in a blinds and lamp shade shop, the chiaroscuro cinematography is unbelievably sharp – each and every character walking through a checkered board of mystery (bravo to director of photography William Margulies). Two-faced individuals are shrouded, landscapes hide secrets in their shadows, and each room sets a mood that does not exactly put you at ease. When combined with an eclectic cast of characters, you get a unique aura of suspense. And boy does the cast not disappoint. . . each actor bringing something very special to the production. Another cool observation finds the original murder flashed in quite graphic detail, only for the camera to turn away in horror afterwards – we only get flashes of a cigarette in a pool, moving machinery, or the hair of a murdered girl – all three leaving our brains reeling as it imagines the destruction just off screen.
A perfect example of 50s sleaze (nothing compared to what would come starting in the next decade), The Girl in Black Stockings is a B movie bonanza for noir fans. Beyond its unique cast and stunning lighting, its stilted, out-there hard boiled dialogue (sometimes twistedly funny) is most noticeable – for example, “Those arms! Carved up like some crazy jigsaw puzzle!”. The last aspect worth noting – a slinky, oft suspenseful, sometimes sultry score from Les Baxter accompanies the visuals. . . and it works wonders. So, beware of femme, wrath, and beyond (better make that ‘blonde’. . . and add brunette for that matter) in this late era film noir, no one is to be trusted.