Night of the Demon.

Review #2459: Night of the Demon.

Cast: 

Dana Andrews (Dr. John Holden), Peggy Cummins (Joanna Harrington), Niall MacGinnis (Dr. Julian Karswell), Athene Seyler (Mrs. Karswell), Liam Redmond (Professor Mark O'Brien), Peter Elliott (Professor Kumar), Maurice Denham (Professor Harrington), Reginald Beckwith (Mr. Meek), Rosamund Greenwood (Mrs Meek), and Brian Wilde (Rand Hobart) Directed by Jacques Tourneur (#998 - I Walked with a Zombie, #1898 - Cat People, #2280 - The Leopard Man)

Review: 

"The real horror is to show that we all live unconsciously in fear. Many people suffer today from a fear that they don't begin to analyze and which is constant. When the audience is in the dark and recognizes its own insecurity in that of the characters of the film, then you can show unbelievable situations and be sure that the audience will follow. For another thing, people love to be afraid."

Naturally, this was a movie loosely based on an old short story. M. R. James wrote a handful of stories for More Ghost Stories of an Antiquarty in 1911, and "Casting the Runes" was one of them. Charles Bennett had the rights to the story and thus made a screenplay ("The Haunted") that loosely took inspiration from the short story. He sold the story to producer Hal E. Chester (much to Bennett's regret, because he later found that people like Robert Taylor and Dick Powell were interested in being in the film*) who ended up making changes that resulted in him getting a co-credit, although it was really blacklisted writer Cy Endfield who crafted significant parts of the screenplay. For whatever reason, the movie was called "Curse of the Demon" in the States (often with a double feature pairing with 20 Million Miles to Earth) with a runtime of 82 minutes that cut certain sequences from the original 96-minute cut. This was the last horror movie Tournier made as a director (famously, he apparently rejected the term "horror movies", stating once he made "films on the supernatural" because he believed in it). Tourneur was involved in the project because Ted Richmond (the producer of his prior film Nightfall) gave Chester a recommendation, which in turn got Tournier to show the script to Andrews.  Apparently, the demon was a contentious aspect of the movie for the filmmakers. Hal E. Chester and his co-producer wanted to show the demon at the start and end of the film, but Tourneur and Bennett weren't happy about it, with the latter being once quoted as saying that if Chester was up at his driveway, he would shoot him (a book about the making of the film by Tony Earnshaw contends including the demon was planned from the start anyway). Tournier claimed that the movie was "ruined" by showing the demon from the beginning, stating that he shot just one scene with the idea of a demon in the cloud sequence. Tourneur did five further movies as a director: The Fearmakers (1958), The Giant of Marathon (1959), Timbuktu (1959), The Comedy of Terrors (1964), and City Under the Sea (1965).

Let's get one thing out of the way: of course you show the damn demon on screen. This was the 1950s man, you can't go with the power of suggestion and "maybe" seeing something, at a certain point you're going to do something when "Demon" is in the film title (showing a cloud only for a movie like this would be silly, arguably). At any rate, what we have here is a solid little movie, managing to evoke a sense of dread through mood and atmosphere, one that arguably is Tournier's best horror movie when compared to Cat People (why anyone would reject the term horror movie is beyond me). It lurks in the shadow of noir that gradually makes you wonder just what may be beyond what eyes and ears can sense. It helps that Andrews (who apparently wasn't a fan of Chester either) is the right type of rigid for this role, one whose skepticism can only come from a place of flustered vulnerability that we understand that some can look mystery in the face and see a bottomless pit. Sure, we know there's something lurking beyond the wind rustling, but it helps to have a movie that is patient in the push-and-pull of belief and devotion. MacGinnis is practically the same in that regard when it comes to vulnerability, mainly because he is not merely a mad magician but is instead one who is consumed by a force greater than one could imagine, one who could play tricks for the youth but instead plays tricks on himself and those around him. The rest of the cast do a pretty fine job in that usual dignity of a horror movie that isn't about body counts or creature effects (the demon does look good, in close-up anyway) but instead of the terror of imagination going awry. My one little gripe is with the ending, specifically the very last scene. After spending a whole movie getting his ideas about the supernatural all mixed up, complete with seeing a cloud of smoke and something that may be a demon inflict fear on someone else for the climax...he doesn't go to inspect the body, instead leaving with the girl. I don't know man, I know these movies love to make sure to set the guy up with the girl at the end but c'mon, some things really are better to know. In general, what we have is a pretty neat movie involving the power of belief and what comes from those who are engulfed by it to subservience and those who know exactly where the road leads. It's one of those esteemed old movies that definitely deserve a look, that's for sure.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

*Oh who cares about Taylor and Powell when you have Dana Andrews?

Gun Crazy.

Review #2424: Gun Crazy.

Cast: 

Peggy Cummins (Annie Laurie Starr), John Dall (Barton "Bart" Tare; Mickey Little as age 7 Bart, Russ Tamblyn as age 14 Bart), Berry Kroeger (Packett), Morris Carnovsky (Judge Willoughby), Anabel Shaw (Ruby Tare Flagler), Harry Lewis (Deputy Clyde Boston; Paul Frison as age 14 Clyde), Nedrick Young (Dave Allister; David Bair as age 7 Dave), Trevor Bardette (Sheriff Boston), and Stanley Prager (Bluey-Bluey) Directed by Joseph H. Lewis (#934 - The Big Combo)

Review: 

"I told John, "Your cock's never been so hard", and I told Peggy, "You're a female dog in heat, and you want him. But don't let him have it in a hurry. Keep him waiting." That's exactly how I talked to them and I turned them loose. I didn't have to give them more directions."

I suppose a weapon like a gun has always been an object of unimaginable desire in our minds for as long as people can remember. Whether to use it for hunting or other methods, there are just some people that have such a reaction to the sight and feel of a gun that likely made it interesting to show what happens when you get a couple of misfits together with a mutual obsession. The basis for the film is a short story ("Gun Crazy", which you can see some of it here if you focus your eyes) originally published in The Saturday Evening Post in 1940 that was written by MacKinlay Kantor. Kantor wrote the screenplay for the film with Dalton Trumbo (formerly, Millard Kaufman was used as a front for Trumbo due to the blacklist), who crafted it into a doomed romance. For whatever reason, the movie was originally known as "Deadly Is the Female" (yes, United Artists thought that would be a quality title for a quality movie) before it eventually was re-issued with the title you know today. In 1992, a movie inspired by the film came out with Guncrazy, as directed by Tamra Davis. This was the first film directed in the 1950s by Joseph H. Lewis, who had been directing features for over a decade by this point in a variety of genres (Minstrel Man, The Falcon in San Francisco, you get the idea). The New York City native (and son of an optometrist) followed his brother to Hollywood and went up from camera assistant to assistant editor to, well, director of cheap but efficient movies. Apparently, before his death in 2000 at the age of 93, one of his last public appearances was to introduce a screening of none other than Gun Crazy, which he called his favorite film.

It is amazing what you can do with a relatively fast production (shot over roughly 30 days for $400,000), isn't it? There is an electricity here for such a sordid little tale of obsession and desire that is shot and executed with commitment to the material that makes one appreciate the qualities that come with such strange people fit for a confident noir. You've got one person who can stroke the gun but can't quite shoot to go along with someone who can't really control their inner self when shooting a weapon. Dall appeared in a total of eight movies in his career (with a handful of stage and TV work before his death at age 50 in 1971); Gun Crazy was his fifth film, which followed his turn as one of the killers in Rope (1948). Lewis apparently picked him because he knew that Dall would show the "inner weakness" of the character*. Lewis clearly had the right idea in mind because Dall does a tremendous job in showing the vulnerability that comes not really knowing who one is beyond choices thrust upon them (reform school, robbing people, for example). He makes for a quality tragic character to see in all of flaws that come with a lack of general direction beyond being good with a gun. This was actually the last of the movies Cummins made in Hollywood, where she had travelled to from England in 1945, having started acting in films at the age of 15 in 1940. She settled back in England for good in 1950 and did a bit of television to go with stuff that probably is best highlighted with Night of the Demon (1957). She was cast over original rumblings of getting Veronica Lake, and it would seem that Cummins was a solid choice, mainly because her troubling desires and shaky hold on reality is also fascinating to see paired with Dall. Their chemistry is interesting because it really is a clash of energy bursting to come out, one with people that are begging to just be one entity that, well, probably fits exactly with what the director told both of them to do for direction. For such a strong duo, the movie also happens to move with damn-good efficiency in showing the descent into crime (which goes from kid troublemakers to back home again) with such charming execution. The robbery sequence in particular, where it decides to just never enter the bank by just shooting from in the car (which naturally is cheaper to do than building a bank set) is probably one of the most interesting sequences you could shoot for a robbery in terms of fascination with how one could pull it off so smoothly (evidently it took a bit of lighting, fiddling with the back of the car and guys on the actual roof of the car for boom mics). I particularly like the ending in showing the culmination of one's choices not so much in what to shoot but in what to shoot for (obviously crime doesn't pay with the time the film was made in but consider how the movie gets to where it is). As a whole, this is an efficient movie that just exudes energy and curiosity over what could've just easily been a Bonnie and Clyde pastiche and makes it into a fascinating and intriguing feature worth anyone's time in the noir stands.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

*Dall was apparently gay, as referenced several times over such as this: https://www.tcm.com/tcmdb/title/77083/gun-crazy#articles-reviews?articleId=581435

Street Corner.

Review #1652: Street Corner.

Cast: 
Peggy Cummins (Bridget Foster), Terence Morgan (Ray), Anne Crawford (Susan), Rosamund John (Sergeant Pauline Ramsey), Barbara Murray (WPC Lucy), Sarah Lawson (Joyce), Ronald Howard (David Evans), Eleanor Summerfield (Edna Hurran), Michael Medwin (Chick Farrar), Charles Victor (Muller), and Anthony Oliver (Stanley Foster) Directed by Muriel Box.

Review: 

"It was the heyday of the cliff-hanging serials, the one- and two-reel slapstick comedies, and the flickering newsreels. King Edward VII's funeral was the most impressive spectacle we had ever seen." 

Being known as one of England's most prolific female directors should be quite an accomplishment, particularly when doing so in an era as long ago as the 1950s and 1960s. Consider this: Box directed a dozen movies in her life-time, and no other female director has matched this accomplishment since. Muriel Box (born Violette Baker near London) wanted to be an actress and dancer (after developing a love for cinema as a child during World War I), but her failings led to other pursuits. In 1929, she started as a secretary at British Instructional Films. In 1932, she would meet (and soon marry) journalist Sydney Box, and they would soon work together in writing, such as with short plays. Being involved with film was quite a family affair for the Boxes, as Sydney's sister would also be involved with Verity Films, for which the three would be behind production over hundreds of wartime propaganda shorts after its inception in 1940. Muriel would direct for the first time with the documentary short The English Inn (1941). The Boxes would work together extensively in the decade with writing scripts alongside producing one-act plays. The Seventh Veil (1945) would be their greatest achievement in terms of screenplay. Their screenplay would win an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay that year, which made Box the first woman to have won the award. It would spur Sydney to moved to head of production for Gainsborough Pictures while Muriel would do story department and Betty would be a lead producer. With The Lost People (1949), she received her first credit as co-director because of her work in post-production (the original director was Bernard Knowles), as she re-shot over half of the feature. The Rank Organization would close Gainsborough in 1949, and Betty would move to Pinewood Studios and become a noted producer in her own right, while Sydney would create London Independent Producers with Murial as one of the partners. Box set out to become a director with an adaptation of So Long at the Fair (1950) but star Jean Simmons (for some reason) insisted to Box being replaced. Regardless of the intrusion, in 1952, Muriel would do her first solo theatrical effort with The Happy Family, which she co-wrote with Sydney. Ultimately, Box would direct a dozen of films until her last one in 1964, which were characterized as low-budget mixes of comedy and drama despite facing doubts from those around her (one actress thought it would be "strange and uncomfortable" to have her as a director). Box was not ultimately finished doing work within promoting women, as she would co-found the first feminist publishing company in England with Femina in 1965.

This was her third theatrical effort, one that be characterized as part of her method of covering society through the roles of women - in this case, an episodic ensemble talking about female police officers. The film (also known as Both Sides of the Law) served as a compliment to The Blue Lamp (1950), a crime thriller that was quite notable for its social realism of the time. It is the kind of "torn from the headlines" movie, one with cooperation from the Metropolitan Police (incidentally, women were only allowed into the force in 1919). It isn't the kind of movie with fancy details as so much it is one that has a semi-documentary feel (complete with shooting in London) while involving vaguely connected stories about family disorder to go alongside mildly interesting drama that nevertheless still seems useful enough for a viewing for what it ends up doing in breezy entertainment. It isn't flashy or packed with grand memorability (such as the aforementioned Blue Lamp film, which inspired a TV series that lasted two decades), but it manages to do a quiet job in portraying the grind of the time with decent enough spectacle in careful pacing for 94 minutes. The main star is Cummins, the young Irish focus (of sorts, since 28 is the new 18, I guess) that has to carry tension with a bit of impulse shining through that keeps us curious for a role that could've been bent as simply one to scoff at. Morgan (who had a modest career sprinkled with "bad guy" roles) follows along as the alluring presence of shifty means that one could see making a good pull at someone's head (in a film with well-meaning cops and a few off-kilter people, he sticks out). Crawford and John (each near the end of their careers, as the former died in 1956 while the latter retired after one more film role) are our main focus in terms of the side of the police, and they carry the movie to where it needs to go in the business of procedural patience with fair charm - this isn't exactly the kind of role that needs devastating screen presences, merely someone who can play the role with that right sense of dutiful consistency. Summerfield makes up the secondary focus with her own shocking involvement with the police, somehow going from rescuing a kid from water while deserting the Army. She does fine with the role, slowly uncovering the layers as a reluctant hero with fair polish. There is another subplot involving a neglected child that also has its own little moments, but the sticking point is within Cummins and Morgan, particularly since one even gets to see a police dog take part of the carefully swift climax. As a whole, it is exactly the kind of film one could expect of a police drama of the 1950s from a British director - swift, fair to the point, and suitable to those who are curious for what it likes to say of the time. For Muriel Box, it serves as a fair and worthy achievement - quietly effective in performances over style with the budget and circumstances given that certainly merit consideration for one of England's most prominent female filmmakers for the time.

Next Time: While Joy Batchelor was a co-director on this film, it is still an intriguing one to consider, since it is the first British animated feature...Animal Farm.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.