Film Noir #29

 

Noir: Chicago Deadline, Conflict, and Convicted

CHICAGO DEADLINE (1949) --- A person might watch Chicago Deadline bi-yearly and enjoy it as if new, having forgot much of mystery and all of its solution. As was common of noir, there is setting and atmosphere, also attitude to compensate for coherence deficiency. I like Ladd for whatever he’s up to, especially when modern-set and allowing for trench coat, gun, whatever accoutrements we’d aspire to minus his aplomb. There is girl casualty Donna Reed to propel thicket that is plot, Ladd closing in on killers, or does he? You see, already I forget, mere weeks after watching. Kino let this out among packet of noirs, Chicago Deadline long wanted because where else could we see it over a last four decades? Sometimes noirs need not be especially good so long as they are rare. Lewis Allen directs; results might have been better had John Farrow done so. I’ve wondered why Ladd went years before performing for the Hal Wallis unit (Red Mountain in 1951). Perhaps his tag was too high, for despite fact Wallis was on the Para lot and using their facilities, it was otherwise an arms-length deal and his independent unit would be expected to pay for contract talent same as anyone, Wallis and loaner banks financing much of what he made for studio release. Mysteries even muddled are hard to resist when there’s a cast of noir regulars as here, each reliable and arresting to watch even where leading us down rabbit holes a chore to climb out of. Donna Reed is an OK co-lead, but there’s no co-Ladd to that, since the two never meet, not even in flashbacks that drive much of narrative. There are noir classics like Out of the Past, and then there are the Chicago Deadline (s), more of latter than former, though the more familiar famous ones get, the more welcome are bent toys like Deadline, newfound treat in every visit one ventures to take. Nice then to have Chicago Deadline around, nicer still to close in upon Paramount noirs missing till lately, and we can hope (depend?) on the rest surfacing eventually.

CONFLICT (1946) --- Humphrey Bogart in a role he intensely did not want to play, a wife killer brought to book by a scheme the seeming entire cast works out to pull him down, Bogie as unwitting dupe manipulated back to the scene of his crime where cops and cuffs await. Rick the proprietor at Casablanca brought down to this? It plays like punishment, means of letting Bogart know he’ll pull a familiar plow however big a star he appears otherwise to be. There was a recorded conversation between HB and JL Warner where Bogie is bullied and Jack has clearly the upper hand. Ingrate Bogart will do Conflict or else … and sure enough he submitted. We don’t like this sort of Bogart lore, and yet Conflict emerged a good picture, written by Robert Siodmak, directed by Curtis Bernhardt, a first dip of HB toe into neurotic parts he’d embrace more firmly later. His killing is furtive, an escape from suffocating marriage (the wife nags incessantly and Bogie has to take it and like it), his object to wed a sister-in-law (Alexis Smith) who does not love him and never will. Bogart’s age is for the first time an issue. Sydney Greenstreet refers to himself and HB as “old fogies,” and notion that Smith could want him is dismissed out of hand, her better suited to age-appropriate Charles Drake. All this plays stark against To Have and Have Not and Bacall, a teenager when she and Bogart were co-starred, their vehicle released two years ahead of Conflict, latter which was completed (1943) ahead of To Have and Have Not going into production. Yes, Conflict was “wrong” for Bogart, but right for him now that we have perspective of the whole career, a noir drench that has more honest elements of the style than more flamboyant and comedic The Big Sleep, and here's the kicker, Conflict was a healthy earner and not at all the rat poison Bogart would have anticipated.

Conflict seems almost anti-Bogart from the start, so far at least for feeding his image, him hen-pecked, complaining to no avail of mutton being served at dinner (“You know I hate mutton” to Rose Hobart’s hateful response). Hobart had worked with Bogie when he was still a juvenile on Broadway, so was not awed by the star aborning, her saying as much in years-later interviews. Too many had Bogart’s number, including the shrew wife at home, who when she didn’t throw bottles was sticking knives in him. The tough guy persona must have been a welcome retreat, even as it had nothing to do with who Bogart really was. Nice to see him back with Greenstreet however, only this time latter is the cat and former the mouse, so we don’t get to enjoy Bogie getting the better of the Fat Man. Why then do I like Conflict so? Maybe for the indoor exteriors, toy cars sped up hillsides that are like landscapes built for tabletop electric train sets, city street bustle on the Warner backlot, crowds aplenty to show us this is an A project. Plot device has Bogie driving ninety miles back-forth to a lake lodge over winding dirt roads. I’m spoiled enough to be terrified of a hundred feet over anything but solid asphalt, but back in the 40’s they abided, in fact appreciated any road that would get a car from one place to another, whatever its surface. This all reeks of noir, plus Bogie wears his trench coat to do the killing. Any clip of Conflict might make you think it was one of his best. For me it almost is, but then of course, I like any Bogart. 16mm renters back in the day could get Conflict cheap, $35 in UA’s 1975 catalogue, a tip as to low esteem it held. Warner Archive offers a DVD, and TCM plays Conflict in HD.

CONVICTED (1950) --- Convicted and others of Columbia crime family are like tunes that linger in one’s head. It always seems I’ve heard their scores before, cues repeated to signal each bump of modest mellers. Convicted was fruit of a play Columbia bought long before and filmed as The Criminal Code in 1930, latter “by” Howard Hawks and shown still because among other interests, there was a colorful part for rising Boris Karloff, the role done by Millard Mitchell for Convicted. I wonder if H. Hawks was even aware of Columbia re-doing The Criminal Code, or if he’d care. Glenn Ford is imprisoned for an accident-killing, him less dangerous or hothead than Everyman a by-then Ford signature, if Everyman was of sort to skirt law or soldier-of-fortune toward sudden wealth or exotic romantic opportunity as was this actor's often bent. Ford was a major and popular leading man that Columbia used for stock … he’d get no Academy Awards toiling for them. Broderick Crawford would know like circumstance after freak win for All the King’s Men, after-words to that more action than thought, hard case sorts we expected and preferred from him. Were there actors born only to play convicts? If so, they are all here. It is for that reason I adore faces put to toil in prison laundries and look it. Were such sorts feared by other shoppers when visiting the market for sundries? I envision men like Harry Cording or John Doucette sending the wife or kids rather than go themselves and be viewed with apprehension. Convicted is the more precious for being predictable. How many 1950 viewers do you suppose got part way in and then exclaimed, Wait, I’ve seen this exact same thing before!, not as register of complaint, but mere recognition that cards movies shuffle can’t help duplicating, limit after all in tales told or absorbed over a lifetime of filmgoing. Convicted for all of old clothing took $753K in domestic rentals, less than Glenn Ford generally yielded, but OK withal for what Columbia likely spent. It shows up streaming, lately at Amazon Prime.

Count Your Blessings #1

 

CYB: Cats, Castles, Bats, Canaries, and Westward the Women

Herewith another series I’ll call Count Your Blessings, object to single out discs or streaming a rebirth for features figured never to look so pristine again. Being around long enough to have seen some when new (Castle of Blood),  where poor prints prevailed (The Cat and the Canary), or when DVD was still in primitive state (The Bat Whispers), here is dawn on day the three look near to when new, but could we know what that amounted to, not having seen most fresh-minted? The chiller trio watched more/less in succession, Castle of Blood came first, streaming via Vudu/Fandango and in High-Def. It is Italian horror, being of wager the hero will collect if he survives the night in a haunted house. Barbara Steele resides there, Castle’s current vein of interest, it occurring to me that here came Victorian spook telling as if sprung from century-old pages to latter-day life. Castle is said to derive in part from Edgar Allan Poe, atmosphere primarily the sell with a sock end, plus Poe among taverners arranging the bet. Castle of Blood was a Woolner Bros. release, dualed with Hercules in the Haunted World, so I wonder how much circulation it actually got in ’64. Does elite order go to those who were there? I've not found a fan yet who caught Castle theatrically. Was it like spotting Yetis or the Loch Ness? Footage is lately added that was kept out then, mild nudity, gore, and such. Sentiment speaks for itself here. Who else would seek out Castle of Blood? Sales should reveal at least how many will. The Cat and the Canary was good on standard DVD, a Photoplay/Brownlow project, me enthused over that in 2017, but here comes 2024 and Blu-Ray from Masters of Cinema surpasses it. Silent horror I suspect was never so persuasive, Cat a likely leap over London After Midnight in event we ever locate the latter … just my guess so long as we don’t have opportunity to compare, here again disappointment at no one left from 1927 who could evaluate the pair from memory, same being so of 1930’s The Bat Whispers, at long-last Blu rendition of the wide original (“Magnifilm”), an experience unlike any you’d get from vintage horror, unless others were shot on 65mm, which none were. For me this was like Main Stem sitting at early to mid-twenties peak of chiller-dillers done on stage, ones-of-kind experience many took to eternity with them, too few writing of what they saw and heard. For this alone I treasure The Bat Whispers, being dense with humor to leaven chills as was habit then, and who minds so long as Roland West works his restless camera and depicts darkness darker than I ever thought 1930 or since was capable.

Drat Photostat Machines of Fifty Years Ago, but How Else to Spread Campus Word?

Appreciating all this comes easy for years ago watching and, heaven spare my audiences, running bad prints to crowds that should have hung me high for so imposing upon them. Remember Phantom of the Opera as 1973 shown here by Greenbriar? Co-inflictor at infamous occasion Dan Mercer has wove the tale several times. Suffice to say the print was on 8mm from Blackhawk, aimed across width of a basketball court, what-was-I-thinking occasion never to be lived down. 2024 does revival and rebirth notably better, as at this year’s TCM Festival where, among others, Westward the Women played to satisfaction not had since 1951 when the MGM western was new. Consider years with transfers weak, adequate for TV but no larger format, then sudden comes digital to remind us how all studio features acquitted where fresh off trucks. I’ll venture in fact that Westward the Women looks superior now to what first-run attendees saw, modern means by which images achieve clarity not obtainable generations back. I wanted to know how the TCM run was received and so consulted Laura’s Miscellaneous Musings, site proprietor Laura Grieve having been at the Festival and an eyewitness to crowd reaction when Westward the Women unspooled. She generously passes along as follows how the never-better-than-now show was greeted:

Hi John!
What a nice surprise to hear from you - and as WESTWARD THE WOMEN is one of my favorite films, I'm thrilled to hear you'll be writing about it.

The screening was really wonderful - absolutely packed, though it was a bit disappointing when a large cohort of people there to see Jeanine Basinger honored with the Robert Osborne Award got up and left from prime VIP seats in the center of the theater when that part of the proceedings ended! I wish they had stood at the back or something, as I believe some people were shut out of attending the screening. Basinger said one of the reasons she chose the film for her ceremony was that when she was a young movie theater page, it made an impression as a film where the audience stayed at the end and applauded, which wasn't the norm in 1951!  And she spoke about loving how the women were very strong but also maintained their femininity, highlighted in the last sequence of the movie.

I was wondering what the audience reaction would be, as the film is somewhat groundbreaking for its depictions of strong women in the '50s, especially in Westerns -- of course, we also got lots of strong women in pre-codes etc. -- but there are also some statements made early on by Robert Taylor's character the audience might view as misogynistic, plus a whole lotta slapping LOL.  It really seems as though virtually everyone loved the film; I think it was one of the most talked-about screenings of the festival, along with NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES, the restoration of THE SEARCHERS, and the Vitaphone shorts with original record soundtracks, to name a few that had a lot of "buzz."

There were several reactions shared on Twitter which I Re-Tweeted, and as it was easy for me to locate them again I thought I'd send you the links for "as it happened" audience reactions shortly after the April 20th screening - clicking through these might give you a more direct idea of the same kinds of reactions I was hearing as I spoke with people after the movie, as well as the next day.

https://twitter.com/Kimbo3200/status/1781914534304989358

https://twitter.com/sleepyserenade/status/1782121816934514792

https://twitter.com/chrisreederATX/status/1782125209723801767

https://twitter.com/chrisreederATX/status/1781901100251259031

https://twitter.com/HillPlaceBlog/status/1784405415675023506

https://twitter.com/dannymmiller/status/1781905598931767722

https://twitter.com/daveypretension/status/1781899209349931390

I saw at least one negative Tweet saying she didn't like the film, decrying the slapping and women marrying strangers, etc., but that was in the minority.  People seemed surprised by the film's gritty tone and loved the characters.  There was a nice round of applause at the end before everyone dashed off to their next movie line.

Finally, in case you've not happened across my column on this in the past, you might be interested to know that the movie's "town" sets are still standing!  (Barely, they are in a state of decay.)  I discovered this when I visited Kanab, Utah, in 2021, and I shared photos in my Western Roundup column for the Classic Movie Hub site.  I thought you might enjoy a look in conjunction with this topic:

https://www.classicmoviehub.com/blog/western-roundup-kanab-utah/

Thank you so much for your very kind words, which mean a great deal to me given how many years I have enjoyed your own site.  You gave my day a lift! 

Best wishes,
Laura

… and copious thanks back to Laura, whose site of years standing is a regular stop for me and I’m sure most who read Greenbriar. How could Westward the Women on home alone basis approach benefits watching at the TCM Fest? Most we can do is hope visitors enjoy our vintage picks, but how to serve tastes of all in the room? Reaction to Westward the Women at Twitter reveals much. No Fest-goer came away without an opinion, question when will Westward the Women again play to near-capacity of eager sitters? Reminds me of classical compositions that get maybe one recital, but none more for being unfamiliar since they don’t get performed, round and round from there to obscurity. Easy to forget that movies were once customized for wide exposure. Filmmakers, certainly film distributors and showmen down the line, understood that to please a few was to please nobody. Where do I come off writing authoritatively of a movie’s merit when I never once sat among an audience, let alone a paying one, to watch these relics released for the most part prior to my birth? There are plenty to recall superheroes or lords of rings amidst crowds, but who to bear witness of Westward the Women when it went 1951 rounds, apart from Fest guest Jeanine Basinger? (and how fortunate attendees were to hear her pre-screening reminiscence) Any other such witness would be welcome in comments below, but how likely are such to surface? (eighty years and older Internet dwellers please apply) Gratitude to Laura then for audience moment she captured and preserves for us who see Westward the Women mostly on lone terms, or among whatever like minds can be inveigled to share an outstanding, and to my mind, reborn show.

For 1944 instance of an appreciative viewer who “was there” when a classic was new, there is future writer and historian Don Miller covering NY's open of Murder, My Sweet.

Trade Talk #1

 

What Trades Told: Friendly Leo, Hutton Hustles, Get to Work, Showman!, and Hot Rod Lobbies

Trade magazines are the great repository of film as merchandise, hang the aesthetics for what matter those except for positive word-of-mouth among customers going out? It was ones passing by or noting ads in papers that needed prod, trades’ sole mission to increase traffic through boxoffice turnstiles. I skipped a day of high school to clean out a venue in Taylorsville, hundreds of mags the owner threw in with posters he valued more, the reverse true for me thanks to joy trades brought. Sit down sometime with a pile and see how immersed you get, quickest route to that HERE. What Greenbriar shares today and hopefully forward is meditation by folks in the field re how-sold and how-to-sell, this whole of what mattered to trade readership. I gave up ever wanting to be an exhibitor for realizing what enormous work the job entailed.

LEO LOOMS LARGE FOR 1950 --- MGM sought to be “the friendly company” to its exhibiting customers. For most part, they kept that reputation. As Metro owned less theatres than rivals, it behooved them to keep small and independent accounts happy, venues that signed yearly with the Lion and used virtually all the company’s output. To block-book heavily among houses urban and rural was as good as owning same, field men hyper-attentive to relationships with showmen. Our Liberty kept close ties with MGM, owner Ivan Anderson back/forth to the Charlotte exchange and their staff supplying him with best accessories to promote highest profile releases. 20X60 door panels in deluxe sets of six came to us for The Bandwagon, Mogambo, Knight of the Round Table, many others, all falling eventually to me when the theatre changed hands. Mr. Anderson and acting manager Col. Forehand rang out 1950 with King Solomon’s Mines, the Liberty an early getter of this most desired attraction. MGM had forty releases for ’50 compared with thirty-five the year before. “Reprints” were part of statistics, Johnny Eager and The Wizard of Oz in 1949, Blossoms in the Dust for 1950. The Liberty played them all, plus whatever short subjects Leo offered. Col. Forehand once told me that he never watched a feature but did peek in for Pete Smith Specialties. Exhibitor Magazine conducted a poll to determine (1) Which company was most profitable to theatres, and (2) Which had fairest terms. MGM won on both counts, and I’ve no reason to believe the contest was rigged (Metro had in fact come in second the year before). “Fairest” often meant giving your man a break when he had a dud and wanted to be shed of it, MGM's rep agreeing to shorten the date, or cancel a booking altogether where management had reason to believe the show would not sell. Any problem could be talked over and solved to satisfaction of distributor and exhibitor, easier arrangement where the salesman had ongoing contact with his buyer and in most instances, regarded himself a friend. Many a holiday gift was exchanged between them, meals always an option when a Metro man stopped in to do business. It helped too that product was good. Check MGM’s 1950 yield and note an overall high standard.

SING FOR YOUR SUPPER, BETTY --- Stars all knew they were performing seals, some tossed larger fish than others, but withal balancing balls upon noses where/when told. Here is instance, Betty Hutton obliged to sing, dance, do whatever, to amuse Paramount brass in town to be recognized for string pullers of talent they were, not unlike visiting exhibitors or armed service folk to whom gates were routinely opened and carpets laid. Who’s for betting Betty was given no time to prepare, was told minutes before to show up and be funny. Lyle Bettger and Jan Sterling were similarly pressed, though less pressure was upon them than what was expected 24/7 of Hurricane Hutton. Expectation is a cruel master. Most figured Betty for a monkey on a Paramount string. Part of her job, an essential part, was to be there for banquets, welcome parties for Mr. Balaban or Mr. Zukor, them and others like kings calling for jesters that were Para stars in name only as check-signers saw it. Seeing an image like this helps me realize what working for this industry really amounted to. We can understand how Betty Hutton and others burnt out and called it eventual quits. Suppose there ever was a big do at MGM where Judy Garland wasn’t asked (told) to sing? Talent got lots of money and public adulation, but often traded pride plus privacy to have them, mental health too in long runs, Hutton and Garland obvious examples. To be Lyle Bettger and cast a lesser glow was at least balm for him at occasions like this. Some handshakes and conversation re what’s it like to be such a bad man on screens would be all required, then home and hearth for Lyle, or libation to wash away stink of studio servitude.

ROLL UP YOUR SLEEVES, MR. SHOWMAN --- Under heading of idle hours being wasted hours, National Screen credo for 1950 back covers of BOXOFFICE was Let’s All Get Down To Work! NSS had vested interest here, for to Get a Horn and Make a Bigger, Louder Noise meant ordering more --- and still more --- of trailers, posters, whatever accessory NSS offered, cost of which drove up overhead to narrow profit margins, especially at smaller venues, where another few dollars spent promoting could wipe off modest gain a film might otherwise generate. Herewith excerpt from an ad pregnant with meaning: “Let’s Quit Knockin’ the Bad in Pictures and Start Selling the Good.” Trouble was less “good” you had to sell than shows that were fine failing to meet expense for any number of local reasons, like high-school football, a county fair, church bazaar ... pick your distraction. Movies were nowhere an only game in town. A small enough berg could have a horseshoe match around the block and queer attendance for your first evening show. And what’s this about the “Bad” in pictures? Who of management would recognize remotest chance of “Bad” in any picture, Great and Glorious Entertainment being all we dispense in our Great and Wonderful Business. I’ve heard however of theatre men who’d stay off public streets a solid week after foul enough selections, the buck stopped always with whoever collected admissions and escorted us through the door. I didn’t blame Colonel Forehand personally for Face of the Screaming Werewolf, as he would have answered that I should have had better sense than to show up for something so obviously lame.

GONE TO GEARHEAD HEAVEN --- Mickey Rooney foolishly parted from MGM and admitted as much later. Tricky agents preyed upon him from there on. One promised moon and stars and stuck Mickey with obligation to do two for producer Harry Popkin plus other odd investors, including Jack Dempsey, everyone to scoop gravy but Mick. The Big Wheel was first of these, Rooney hog-tied for flat fee that was $25K, surely no fair trade for contract money he’d got from Leo. Enough Andy Hardy was intact for the rusted star to be still car-crazy and not ready to behave adult, which may/may not have been how a public preferred him, or had they enough of Mick in any capacity? The Big Wheel is him racing midget cars, ideal casting for the mighty mite, and there was capable free lance support (Thomas Mitchell, Spring Byington, others as veteran). Car culturists could be depended upon to rally, as here with hot rod boys bringing speed machines to display at local theatre entrances. Look close at these flowers of youth previewing fifties attitude to come. “Greasers” came by the name in part for being always under hoods or having oil drip on clothes and faces while flat beneath what once were “jalopies,” now serious racing units forever after purses won at weekend meets hosted far and wide. Danger was the drug in addition to prospect of wins. Teen-driven vehicles piled up as much on community tracks as on highways, life for many a never-ending chickee run. The Big Wheel engages for background of real small time racing, Mickey matched with genuine articles driving hazard routes. A show like this lent itself to local promotion, as car loving, and hot driving, was if anything hottest after the war with boys (girls too?) eager to spread wings behind wheels. The Big Wheel took $1.1 million in domestic rentals, better than most United Artists releases that year. I’m guessing Harry Popkin kept the negative in a garden shed until Wade Williams came calling. Amazon Prime is a source for watching, and there are plentiful DVD’s.

Watch List for 8/5/2024

Watched: Young and Innocent, The Mule, Sol Madrid, and The Model and the Marriage Broker

YOUNG AND INNOCENT (1937) --- Beauty of a rewatch for me is realizing a thing thought good or even excellent goes up now in estimation to be "Among Favorites” of a creator, in this case Alfred Hitchcock who in any case never fails to surprise and delight. Young and Innocent of his UK output seemed a runt among them, partly I think because characters are young per title and not worldly sort like Donat or Madeleine Carroll, Leslie Banks, Edna Best, others we expect to be more invested in. Nova Pilbeam was teenaged when she did Young and Innocent, graduated from child part that was hers in The Man Who Knew Too Much in 1934. Derrick De Marney seems barely older, was in fact thirty, the pair convincingly vulnerable dealing with police, a murder rap, resultant chases. Pilbeam circumstance reminded me of Teresa Wright’s in Shadow of a Doubt, not long out of high school it seems and too inexperienced by Hitchcock lights to engage romance as was expected of people-of-the-world caught up ordinarily in the Master’s web. All this obliges AH to go different route toward resolution, expected bumps dropped to favor a girl less alarmed by possible involvement in a murder than disappointing her benign father who is chief inspector for village law enforcement. Wrong man on the run theme as developed by Hitchcock early (The 39 Steps) and onward after moving to the US hinges on a pivotal overcoat that will prove innocence, though I don’t get (nor do I care) why the garment is of such import, early instance I suppose of a “McGuffin” as used for future Hitchcock. We know this boy is blameless so evidence to bear it out never matters, at least to me as watcher. Young and Innocent is humorous and almost gentle toward characters and us, youth in spirited pursuit of justice amidst rural setting where such a thing could still be had, a Hitchcock for optimist admirers happy to see him go easy on chasers and those being chased.

THE MULE (2018) --- Not sure what I was expecting, but hardly something so fun as this turned out to be. Began The Mule on Netflix with intent to sample a first few minutes and was right away captivated. Clint Eastwood has thrived longer than any producer-director in or out of the Classic Era ever did. We expect any talent to diminish with age, slow down certainly by seventy or eighty. Hitchcock at seventy-two directed Frenzy, “back in form” it was said, though by Family Plot three years later, he was understood to have slowed. George Cukor, eighty-one for his last, Rich and Famous, reportedly dozed in his director chair. Eastwood was born in 1930, which made him eighty-eight when The Mule was released, and he has done more since. Press said in-progress work on another feature was stilled by the writer/actor strikes. Eastwood has an economy, a sureness of touch, to humble craftsmen half his age. He time and again reveals uncanny judgment of story values. Just showing up would be enough to remark upon and admire, but The Mule with its star-director-producer in customary full command is efficient like we long expect from Eastwood. There is a soft drink in North Carolina called Cheerwine, popular since introduced in 1917. I am inclined to dub The Mule “Cheer-noir” for consistent good humor against backdrop of crime and drug runners that for all their humanity still mean business. So does law enforcement seeking contraband, this all based on truth, so say writers and Eastwood. Let’s then put The Mule in happy category with The Big Clock, His Kind of Woman, and rarefied company of noirs always a pleasure to re-watch for ladling fun with undercurrent of threat to an old, old man at target’s center. Eastwood back in 2008’s Grand Torino told young thugs to “Get off my lawn.” Now he deftly manipulates them by device of advanced age and apparent enfeeblement. There’s not been an Eastwood like The Mule before. I wish he could do another dozen like it, and who knows, maybe he will.

SOL MADRID (1968) --- “Sol Madrid” was David McCallum’s name in this movie, and here I’ve been fifty-five years thinking it was a place. Did not attend Sol Madrid in 1968 as it smelled faintly of TV as had The Venetian Affair from McCallum partner Robert Vaughn, advantage Venetian for having Karloff support-aboard. Caught Sol Madrid during Stella Stevens day at TCM. It surpassed modest expectation thanks to talent besides McCallum and him as way tougher, ruthlessly so, than ever was U.N.C.L.E case, none of heavies left at Sol Madrid finish because he kills them all, several in cold blood. 60’s spies played for keeps, which we liked and wanted more of, only Illya is not Illya here, but an undercover drug enforcement man cracking Telly Savalas’ empire of tropical-set crime. Telly looks to be rehearsing for On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, holding his cigarette the same peculiar way, purring lines as patented Mister Big he’d be for more such occasions over a next twenty or so years. David McCallum was a veteran by 1968, not only for tube effort, but UK drama since he was a teen, but him as rugged disposer of heavier-than-him heavies takes getting used to, and maybe that explains lukewarm response to McCallum as big screen sleuth. Sol Madrid had a negative cost of $2.3 million, brought back worse than tepid $500K in domestic rentals, near as dreadful $737K from foreign. Loss was $1.4 million, no worse really than most other MGM releases that year, but certainly final blow to McCallum prospect at theatres, his previous Around the World Under the Sea and Three Bites of the Apple also losers. The only McCallums generating profit were the U.N.C.L.E paste-ups, so how’s that for irony. Sol Madrid played TCM in HD, and there is a DVD from Warner Archive.

THE MODEL AND THE MARRIAGE BROKER (1951) --- Reminded again of mantra spoke by showmen poised upon slender thread that was theatre-owning in the early fifties. “There’s nothing wrong with our business that good pictures won’t cure,” Civitan-speak they knew for truthless evasion of reality that was industry in decline. Plenty of worthy product kissed the canvas, enough to stop a trade from even trying. They’d not know boom times again, “good pictures” or no. By boom we mean consistent patronage, the moviegoing habit as it were, or was, and would never be again. Many factors were to blame, television a clearest culprit, but so was upped expense and people simply tiring of films, save three-ring spectacles. The Greatest Show on Earth won Best Picture to confirm why smaller fish like previous year's The Model and the Marriage Broker stumbled and fell despite being “That Wonderful Kind of a Story to Make You Feel Like Spring in Your Heart.” This was trailer longhand for output sellers could not sum up in five or fewer words, an always-deadly spot to be. Hollywood liked genres for being like labels in a supermarket, known from down the aisle and tossed casually into baskets. You’d not peg The Model and the Marriage Broker from posters or ads, let alone a preview pleading reason to attend. Twentieth-Fox spent but a million on the negative. Director George Cukor finished it in twenty-nine days of a scheduled thirty, using long but never static takes throughout, The Model and the Marriage Broker like his A Life of Her Own for remaining underrated. Boxoffice failure of both may explain his being dismissive of them later. Above-title billed was Jeanne Crain, but the lead was Thelma Ritter’s, an emerging favorite since All About Eve for being wiseacre frump viewership felt themselves or friends to be. She’s a pro matchmaker who pairs loser prospects with similar sorts to hopeful satisfaction of all, result humor and heart tugs a winner combination when writing is at level of The Model and the Marriage Broker, Charles Brackett Walter Reisch, and Richard L. Breen credited scribes. Narrative merits, in fact requires, attention, thus The Model and the Marriage Broker collapse in era of broadcasters bowdlerizing features for time (103 minutes in this instance). NBC being mindful of Model’s cool theatrical reception passed on the Fox release for Saturday Night at the Movies, an otherwise busy berth for the studio’s backlog. It remains a largely unknown quantity since. You’d take a long walk before finding anyone who’d recognize any of credited cast, which happens eventually to all of oldies. I watched the Fox On-Demand disc and confirmed guess that The Model and the Marriage Broker would please.