Marco Segundo
I had fairly low expectations going into this one, but the film quickly churns into full noir-ish life as one of the last of what was to be a dying breed of movie--a psychological thriller pulling us close to the world of the always fascinating Alan Ladd as he runs head on into forces beyond his control. (I disagree that Ladd's personal problems detract from his performance at all. In fact to me the intentional darkness of the mood is simply strengthened by Ladd just as he was able to do in a dozen other gripping dramas both large and small. This is a "small" drama, to be sure, but none the less intense and intriguing.A plot theme emerges here treated the way a great noir director of the 40's might have treated it--pathological youth violence, a real social problem often glossed over {Rebel Without A Cause, for example) or in later 1960's films glamorized and turned into the iconic images for a new generation.But here it is--stark, vicious, mindless, and cruel just because people can get away with it. This is a brave and unflinching film and a real treat for those who appreciate the genre. Keep your expectations modest and it will surprise you quite happily!
angelsunchained
I saw this film with my dad at the now long gone Miami Theater on Flager Street in Downtown, Miami, Florida when I was a kid. I remember it being in black & white, and that Alan Ladd looked tired and worn out. But, if you're a fan of Ladd, this film is a must-see. Again, as is the case for most fading, washed-up actors, even though the film is third rate, the script fair, and the budget no-where to be seen, Ladd gives a talented performance. It's far from his best(Shane), but you can see that he's giving the best-he-can, with what he had left. Only about 50 here, he looks to be in his mid-60s. However, he still had that lean, trim, build, and that look of confidence. A fine supporting cast adds to this out-dated period piece. Made in 1962, it is corny stuff, but surprisingly was a prediction of the "senseless" violence to come. Better than you'd think.
Robert J. Maxwell
SPOILERS. Sounds like it might be a good unpretentious flick, maybe a noir, doesn't it? "Pickup on South Street," "Call Northside 777," "The House on 92nd St.," "13 West Street." It isn't, though. The story is simple enough. Ladd is driving home from work late at night and his car chugs to a halt on an ominously deserted city street -- the only good location shooting in the movie. He's a rocket scientist, so when he sees that his car is out of gas, he tries to restart the engine. (A rocket scientist, mind you.) At this point, the good part is more or less over. Ladd is set upon and brutally beaten by a handful of well-dressed white thugs. He recovers in the hospital but spends the rest of the film on crutches or canes. The police of course investigate, under the guidance of Rod Steiger, but they are too slow for Ladd. He becomes obsessed with finding these punks and begins poking his nose into the investigation. Each time he does so, the juvenile delinquest somehow become aware of it and threaten him over the phone, throw rocks through his window, or beat him yet again. And all the time Steiger (who underplays -- for him) threatens to throw him in jail for "interfering with justice." And in fact he IS thrown in jail. In the end, things turn out as you would expect them to in a routine crime drama like this.The script is full of holes, beginning with the unmotivated beating of Ladd by rich, educated kids. Not that it doesn't happen, but they're given no motivation before this incident, or afterward. One of the kids, who feels he might soon be queried about the beating, hangs himself because he's upset. Both Ladd and his assailant act in the worst possible way, as far as their self interest is concerned. Ladd, a middle-aged engineer on a broken ankle, is able to subdue an athletic high schooler armed with a pistol. Well, I won't go on. The direction is perfunctory. There isn't a shot after the first few minutes that couldn't have been done by following an instructional manual. Oh -- one thing, perhaps. The head thug, Mickey Callan, after throwing his buddies out of his car for reasons known only to him, forces his way into Ladd's house and confronts Ladd's wife, Dolores Dorn. He plans to shoot Ladd, then rape her, he explains. Then, upon thinking things over, he decides to assault her first, and he throws her to the floor, shredding her bodice in the process. (This is known as "ripping a bodice".) At this point the director has the good taste to give us a glimpse of Dolores Dorn's bra and stockinged legs as she writhes on the floor terrified. The acting. This is the sad part. Ladd by this time in his career was pretty well shot, and he looks and sounds it. Some of this is due to the normal process of aging, for which no one, thank God, can be held responsible. But he was also doing beaucoup booze and pounding a lot of barbiturates. He looks puffy, the way Clark Gable began to look puffy when he was drinking heavily. Both his voice and his mannerisms are slurred, so much so that at times he utters a sentence that seems to consist of nothing but one long vowel and no consonants. And he needs to be seen on cane or crutch to be believed. He wobbles and flaps frantically when he moves quickly, and when he walks slowly or stand still the image evoked is Frankenstein's monster. Dolores Dorn, alas, is no actress but is nevertheless sympatico. Not only because of her role as the patient and understanding wife but because her voice, unprofessional as it sounds, seems imbued with a kind of pathos. We feel sorry for her. She's also quite attractive in a not quite conventional way. Her skin seems to have a tawny quality that suggests she is naturally tan all over, and her pale blonde hair complements the tone exquisitely. Steiger engages in little of his usual bravura acting. He's a reliable cop, but almost always in the background.Sometimes a film of this kind can be redeemed by a supporting cast of seasoned and familiar players, but not here. A bartender has a prominent bit part. The guy looks like an overweight actor -- when one thinks of what John Ford would have done with a part like that, it brings tears to the eyes. Mickey Callan I admire, as I do all dancers, for being able to do things I would never have dreamed of trying with my own body. But he's merely pretty, and a poor actor in a dramatic role. (He was better at light comedy.)I don't enjoy being this negative about a movie like this. I've enjoyed the performers' work in other films. And I do feel sympathetic towards Ladd. But there is simply nothing to recommend this movie.
John Seal
This is an above average programmer that benefits from decent, if predictable, performances by Alan Ladd and Rod Steiger. Ladd is a rocket scientist who gets mugged on the way home from a late night at the office by a roving band of Beverly Hills punks led by Michael Callan. What follows could be considered Death Wish 1962, as Ladd pursues the villains whilst police officer Steiger tries to keep him under control. Good photography by Charles Lawton Jr. and a reasonably interesting George Duning score make this one to watch on a cold winter's night.
