The House on 92nd Street (1945)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The House on 92^nd Street (1945) – H. Hathaway

Using the documentary style for which Dragnet later became famous on TV, Henry Hathaway’s war-time noir includes voice-over narration, real location shooting, found footage (of Nazi spies, J. Edgar Hoover, etc.) mixed with actors (Lloyd Nolan and Leo G. Carroll, most noticeably) and a torn-from-the-headlines plot (Nazi spies are trying to smuggle secrets of the atomic bomb out of the US).  Bill Dietrich (William Eythe) is a college student recruited by the Germans to spy for them but he quickly tells the FBI and works as a double agent for them.  We see how he makes contact with the Nazi spy ring and attempts to earn their confidence while still passing along details of their actions and communications back to the FBI.  With this information, FBI Inspector Briggs (Nolan) hopes to find the local kingpin, Herr Christopher, and break up the ring before it’s too late.  Apparently, references to the bomb were added just before this was rushed into release in September 1945.  Not bad but a bit of a programmer.

 

The Spanish Prisoner (1997)

☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Spanish Prisoner (1997) – D. Mamet

There was a time when David Mamet was compared to Alfred Hitchcock, at least with regard to the puzzle films he created (if not for his primary work as a playwright). House of Games (1987), his first, was probably the best of these films.  Then, there seemed to be a distinct dropping off in quality – I don’t even recall his last two features, Spartan (2004) or Redbelt (2008), but they do suggest the macho one-ups-man-ship that has also been a hallmark (or target) of his work (see also his Glengarry Glen Ross, 1992, directed by James Foley).  Returning now to The Spanish Prisoner (1997), I was pleased to discover the twists and turns of the classic con-game film, even if it took a few minutes to get used to the stylized literary dialogue (and they way the actors speak it).  Campbell Scott plays an inventor (of the MacGuffin, or “Process”) who promises his boss (Ben Gazzara) that he will protect the company secrets, even as he begins to worry that he won’t be fairly remunerated.  This worry is encouraged by Jimmy Dell (Steve Martin), a rich New Yorker who Joe Ross (Scott) meets on a Caribbean island when sent there for a company meeting.  As viewers, we are quickly led to suspect Dell is not all he seems – and secretary Rebecca Pidgeon soon joins forces with Ross (and the FBI) to investigate.  But is it all too late?  Maybe.  Styled perhaps on the Hitchcockian chase thriller (as the noose tightens Ross finds himself on the run from both baddies and the cops), this is mostly prestidigitation on the surface without too much of a look at Mamet’s deeper themes. But fun enough, as the pieces slowly fit together.  

 

Crossroads (1942)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Crossroads (1942) – J. Conway

William Powell plays David Talbot, a French diplomat, recently married to beautiful Hedy Lamarr, who is suddenly accused of an outstanding debt and asked to turn over $1 million francs.  Unfortunately, Talbot has long been suffering from amnesia and can’t remember his past!  When he refuses to pay, he’s taken to court where witnesses identify him as another man (Jean Pelletier). There are a few twists and turns in the plot (that involve Basil Rathbone and Claire Trevor) but Talbot remains inscrutable throughout.  Is he pretending to have amnesia? It's a possibility. Powell only occasionally allows his witty and dapper (Thin Man) persona to show through and instead remains glum and rather dour most of the time.  This takes a bit of the shine off the film but it is nevertheless a solid watch, if not quite noir. Of course, it’s all tied up with a bow at the end (although didn’t seem like it would be). 

 

The Doctor Takes a Wife (1940)

 ☆ ☆ ☆

The Doctor Takes a Wife (1940) – A. Hall

Screwball comedy starring Loretta Young and Ray Milland (before he moved over to Noir and after his turn in the much funnier Easy Living, 1937).  Young plays a feminist author (a “career woman”, said with disdain by many in the film, one of its many dated aspects) who is mistakenly thought to have married neuroscientist Milland. Both have other lovers – she has her publisher (Reginald Gardiner) and he has a society fixture (Gail Patrick) – but it turns out that pretending to be married suits them both, despite the fact that they hate each other (naturally). Initially, Milland suggests that he is going along with the scheme simply to help Young write her new book on marriage (to make up for the losses that her earlier feminist books are now suffering) but it turns out that he’s been promoted to a professorship by a dean who values marriage. Nevertheless, they are both desperate to head to Reno for a divorce as soon as possible (despite not really being married).  Of course, the plot takes us in a completely different direction.  Not really laugh-out-loud funny and awkwardly old-fashioned in many places but it fills the bill for this genre if you’ve exhausted the many other better entries.

Nobody Lives Forever (1946)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Nobody Lives Forever (1946) – J. Negulesco

Nick Blake (John Garfield) has been honorably discharged (returning home in 1944, when this film was shot) but isn’t anxious to return to his life as a con-man/swindler, although his friend Al (George Tobias) is keen to get him back into the game. With his life in New York suddenly less interesting (when he finds that his gal has been cheating on him while he was away), Nick heads to California to catch up with his mate Pop Gruber (Walter Brennan) who turns out to be down on his luck.  Although he really just wants to rest and recover from his wartime trauma, Nick allows Al and Pop to convince him to sign up to con a widow out of her $2 million fortune (a scam organised by evil “Doc”, George Coulouris). But, of course, Nick falls for the beautiful widow, Gladys (Geraldine Fitzgerald).  This being noir, things get complicated fast. Director Jean Negulesco adds a few unusual flourishes (the visit to the Mission) and occasionally undercuts the noir vibe with a humorous note. Garfield is strong as the conflicted anti-hero and holds things together throughout, with strong support from the assorted character actors. Above average.

 

Colossus: The Forbin Project (1970)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

Colossus: The Forbin Project (1970) – J. Sargent

Don’t watch this 1970 film if you are worried about A.I. taking over the world and potentially exterminating humankind – because this is exactly the prescient possibility it explores. Under the auspices of the Pentagon, Dr. Charles Forbin (Eric Braeden) has created a super-computer to control the U.S.’s nuclear arsenal, monitoring threats and using only rational decision-making to decide whether to press the button. But the old Cold War foe, the U.S.S.R. turns out to have created a similar self-teaching supercomputer of their own.  Very soon these computers make contact with each other and join forces to tell humans what to do.  They think they know better than we do how to run this world!  Situated between the Sixties spy era (with a cool electronic score) and the paranoid Seventies to come (screenplay by James Bridges who directed The China Syndrome), the film manages to maintain a high level of suspense while still injecting some sex and martinis.  Apparently, those are real computers (lent to the producers by CDC) but they do make WarGames seem modern.  Try not to think about ChatGPT and you’ll be fine.

 

The House with Laughing Windows (1976)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The House with Laughing Windows (1976) – P. Avati

I’ve been cautious about watching Italian giallo films (so called because the original crime paperbacks they were based on had yellow covers), mostly because they are known for gruesome gore and violence, not to mention a tendency toward sexual violence and misogyny.  But some are worse than others, so I’ve tried to choose wisely. There are also some directors (say Bava or Argento) who are so stylish that their films are worth seeing even if you have to grit your teeth a bit. So, it was with some trepidation that I decided to watch Pupi Avati’s The House with Laughing Windows, which did not seem to fit the usual mold of black-gloved killers prowling after women in the night. Instead, we follow Stefano (Lino Capolicchio), an art restorer invited to a small village to work on a gruesome fresco painting of St. Sebastian in a church. Of course, he starts to suspect some sinister things are happening, confirmed when his only friend/acquaintance falls to his death from a window. Stefano receives some threatening phone calls and is abruptly turned out of his hotel, ending up in a lonely mansion (recommended by the church’s priest) that is occupied only by a bedridden elderly woman.  Soon, however, he is joined by Francesca (Francesca Marciano), a young teacher recently moved to the area, who becomes his love interest.  After they discover a creepy old tape recording of the painting’s artist, their interest in understanding his death is piqued. But things turn much darker very quickly (including a very disturbing scene where Francesca is attacked) en route to a very wild twist ending. Although slow and mysterious for most of its run-time (but not as completely confusing as others in the genre), the film does look great with its aged Italian homes and people.  The ending, although violent, does lift the film to a higher level, although it is by no means a masterpiece.