jadedalex

So many movies involve such predictable situations that you have figured most of them out before the ending. Jimmy Sangster's 'Maniac' starts out with a jarring abduction and then leaves you wondering who the title role belongs to.

Kerwin Matthews is surprisingly good. So is Nadia Gray, playing the quintessential evil stepmother. But lest you think this film is full of cliches, it is not. The screenplay is intelligent, and plot twists abound. It may not be up to the level of a Hitchcock film, but the movie held my interest throughout.

Frankly, I have viewed some of Hammer's 'film noir' attempts and was disappointed. This movie is NOT film noir, but there is something quite sinister in many of its characters. A real sleeper.

Easily one of the most manipulative movies I have ever seen. Not a 'bad' movie, this film reminds me of the line from 'Nothing Sacred'....'the truth, crushed to Earth, rises as phony as a glass eye'.

There is very little 'truth' to be found in this sickeningly nostalgic film, which won best picture Oscar. This movie makes 'Cinema Paradiso' look like 'Citizen Kane'.

Everyone is adorable. Even John Goodman. And if that wasn't enough, they throw in an adorable dog. I've never seen such manipulative cuteness since Paul Newman took Katherine Ross on a bicycle in 'Butch Cassidy', as the soundtrack played 'Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head'. Who could resist? Nobody.

But I managed to resist this. A true lover of silent films and early Hollywood would see through the silly happy ending. It made me yearn for how beautifully done the original 'A Star is Born' was made. There could be no happy ending. We just see Norman Maine walking into the ocean. Which makes the real ending ring so true...Vicky Lester proclaiming herself 'Mrs. Norman Maine'.

The movie's lead is reminiscent of John Gilbert, who would not make it successfully into the talkies. It's a shame. His love, Greta Garbo, even did exactly as the character 'Peppy Miller' did in 'The Artist'. She would not make 'Queen Christina' without Mr. Gilbert. And I believe Gilbert was fine with the role, but Hollywood, and his own alcoholism, prevented this from ever happening.

Garbo, ironically, shared the same fate. In her second attempt at comedy, the public stayed away in droves to 'Two-Faced Woman'. No one wanted to see a happy Garbo doing the rhumba. What had clicked so well in 'Ninotchka' failed dismally in 'Two-Faced Woman'. That's the difference between an intelligent script and an uninspired one.

When I viewed the happy ending to 'The Artist', it made me wonder. If John Gilbert could just dance a few steps, all would be sweetness and light! He would have gone on to a successful new career, provided audiences wanted to see Garbo rhumba, which they didn't.

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. I have no doubt the makers of this film have a love for a glamorous old Hollywood. That this film rings of so much false nostalgia is unsettling. I hate to mention 'truth' again. But part of what makes 'Sunset Boulevard' such a fine film is its cynicism. Billy Wilder had a talent for making movies that turned out quite prophetic. We can all relate to Norma Desmond's declaration: 'I am big. It's the pictures that got small...'

Imitation is one thing. Stealing music is robbery. We all know the great love the French have for Jerry Lewis. And incongruously, Sir Alfred Hitchcock. So I found it rather annoying that they copped Bernard Herrmann's music from 'Vertigo' for one of the scenes in 'The Artist'. Obviously, they must have gotten permission, but I doubt Hitchcock would be amused.

There are clever moments throughout the film, but the movie winds up being an insincere, sloppy kiss to nostalgic Tinsel Town. You want to see a sincere and moving silent film? Try F.W. Murnau's 'Sunrise'. It was made in 1927.

I probably wouldn't post such a negative review, but I'm amazed at what passes for 'great films' in the twenty first century. At the end of the day, 'The Artist' is only so much politically correct fluff. Where is Billy Wilder's cynicism when we need it?

For those wanting gore, you will be sadly let down by 'The City of the Dead'. There are very little special effects; the ones that are done are handled cleverly along with some fine camera work.

It's a familiar yarn. The violent days of the Salem witch trials. Movie opens with defiant witch putting a curse of death on the whole town of Whitewood.

It's quite similar to 'Black Sunday', the Bava masterpiece starring Barbara Steele. This movie does not share 'Sunday's macabre charm. It's a straightforward tale told in an intelligent manner. This is quite elusive in most fifties' and sixties' horror films.

The director also pulls a 'Psycho' the same year Hitchcock released that immortal film. The film introduces the young and extremely attractive Venetia Stevenson, who, a la Janet Leigh in 'Psycho', is killed about a half hour into the story.

The movie presents a different take on most Salem tales. This may be because the cast is British. I suppose many jaded viewers of today consider the film too 'talky', but I'll listen to intelligent dialog when it is presented to me.

Christopher Lee is very young and handsome here, two years after his magnificent performance in 'Horror of Dracula'. The budget was limited by some threadbare sets, but the film nevertheless contained an elusive eeriness not found in most brain-dead horror flicks.

Hardly a horror 'classic', 'The City of the Dead' is a good film. You know how I can tell? I want to see it again.

I was always titillated by the sight of young Ewa Aulin, but never witnessed this 'epic', supposedly 'so terrible, it's great'. The only movie I have ever seen that is so terrible that it is accidentally 'great' is 'Plan 9 From Outer Space'. Terrible is usually terrible. 'Candy' is a terrible waste of real talent, much like Preminger's stinker of the same year, 'Skidoo'.

The only thing that got me through the film is the fantastic body of the young Ms. Aulin. She is very easy on the eyes. However, the sight of such talents as Richard Burton, James Coburn, Marlon Brando, Walter Matthau and John Astin making complete fools of themselves with a terribly unfunny script by Buck Henry is not a pleasant thing to behold, and it is hardly 'great'.. Not too surprising that the talented director John Huston found himself a part in this mess, as he managed to do 'Myra Breckinridge' (a REAL loser) around the same period.

Buck Henry is to be credited with writing one of the best screenplays of the year ('The Graduate') and also one of the worst, this stinker called 'Candy'. He has a small bit in the movie, and is slightly humorous as a mental patient! (Typecasting?)

I didn't observe an awful lot of nudity. Ms. Aulin's breasts are briefly seen. Ringo Starr, so promising in 'A Hard Day's Night', can chock another notch on his 'bad movie' belt. As a rule, rock stars just don't translate to matinée idols.

Plus, this treacle, excuse me, I mean 'film' goes on for two hours! At least Otto Preminger kept his stinker 'Skidoo' at a ninety-minute length. I suspect the book 'Candy' is unfunny, too. I have never read 'The Graduate', but it's probably a much better read than 'Candy'.

As we romanticize 'the sixties', it's important to remember...there was a lot of garbage being produced way back when, too! Despite the lovely Ewa, I found this pretty rough to get through and will not do it again. Real garbage.

I guess I just don't know my British film history. I have never heard of this guy, but I started watching him, and he struck me as quite funny. There is a Stan Laurel vacancy to Mr. Wisdom's face that is quite appealing. I thought he was excellent in his dual role as the mincing and lisping Italian hairdresser. A talented comedian, with a bit of Chaplin's pathos. Is 'On the Beat' biting satire? Is it 'outrageous comedy'? No. It's a pleasant little funny movie.

That Mr. Wisdom recalls to mind Stan Laurel is all in his favor. No doubt, the British public has all but forgotten Mr. Wisdom. This type of small, comic entertainment is decidedly 'dated', but that's part of the charm for me.

I immediately liked the comic, if familiar character of Norman Wisdom's clumsy, small nobody who is determined to become one of Scotland Yard's finest, just like his father before him. Perhaps Wisdom's work is forgotten because of the predominance of Peter Sellers, who was the reigning comic king of Britain. That's what made watching this film a bit of a nice surprise.

This movie earns a 'two' vote only due to its utter strangeness. This is like 'The Oscar' on mescaline. Throw in five million familiar faces, forget a script, and let a young Harry Nilsson do the music score.

It's hard to imagine that the same talented director who made the excellent 'Anatomy of a Murder' was behind this strange acid-trip mixture of hippies, gangsters and prisons. But this film was directed by Otto Preminger.

Oddest casting: Carol Channing as Jackie Gleason's wife. A look at Ms. Channing and you may question whether there are but two sexes on this planet. We are indeed treated to the vision of Ms. Channing in see-through bra and brief panties. It is almost an acid trip in itself.

But that's really only the beginning. The casting features a very lovely Alexandra Hay, who I believe was a Playboy centerfold (I could be wrong, or dreaming). Luna is gorgeous as Groucho Marx's (who plays 'God', years before George Burns) mistress. I love her in that green thing she's almost wearing.

Let's throw in seasoned character actors like Slim Pickens, Fred Clark and Mickey Rooney, too. If that isn't enough, somehow Frankie Avalon appears in the mix. This movie's thorough stupidity made me nostalgic for those brain dead beach flicks!

The list goes on. The world's best 'Password' player, Peter Lawford. From the 'Batman' TV show, we throw in Frank Gorshin and Cesar Romero. Thankfully, the unfunny Arnold Stang is bumped off early in the movie.

And who do we have as star? None other than comic genius Jackie Gleason. This may be the saddest part of the affair. Gleason was excellent in 'Requiem for a Heavyweight'. This should have been a spring board for Jackie to do serious acting, but his filmography is filled with duds. This has to be the most embarrassing attempt at comedy by a real master. Reginald van Gleason on acid is just not funny. Most of the people behind the scenes must have been stoned while making this.

Someone referred to this film as a 'psychedelic gem'. I do agree people need to sit down and watch this film. Drink it in, as they say. This was Hollywood on its last legs. Most of these personalities needed jobs, and they settled for this garbage. Surely someone had to have smelled this movie. Take the money and run.

I'm a big fan of Nilsson, and it is amusing to see his take as the 'tower guard' who is tripping on acid. The best part of the movie is the final credits, which are jocularly all sung by Harry. His song 'Skidoo', however, is a real 'stinkeroo', and in yet another odd turn, the title song is sung by Carol Channing in George Washington drag. Read that sentence again.

Aside from Harry's song about garbage cans, and the spectacle of neon strobe lit garbage cans with people inside them dancing, I found no other highlights in this piece of cinema.

Oh, I forgot, George Raft plays 'The Skipper'.

Now if anyone thinks this movie is 'good' in any way...you are deluding yourself. As strange Hollywood cinema, 'Skidoo' is worse than 'The Oscar' and possibly just as strange as Ed Wood's 'Plan 9 From Outer Space'.

But there's a big difference between an artless, wannabe director with a very limited budget and a respected Hollywood director with a roster of some talented personalities and millions to spend. Frankly, I prefer the quaint ineptness of Ed Wood to the nonsensical treacle that Preminger has created here.

Having said nothing much good about this film, I do agree. You sit down. You watch this movie. I dare you to make it all the way through. I did, with a couple of cigarette breaks. This may be one of the worst Hollywood productions of all time.

I hate to say anything bad about Hitchcock. He's my favorite director. I have sat through this movie and found it to be absolute dreck. I find the use of the color 'red' not symbolic, not artistic but merely contrived.

Hitchcock's last great film was 'Psycho'. 'The Birds' is quite good, but I can almost feel all the work Hitch and his crew went through to do the bird scenes. The gas station / coffee shop scene is true genius, but Rod Taylor is no Cary Grant and Tippi Hedren is no Grace Kelly.

'Marnie' tries to deal with rape, kleptomania and it all seems as inept as your typical TV movie. Connery is totally wasted in his role. I have no sympathy for any of the characters presented in this film.

I realize some people view this movie as one of Hitchcock's 'greats'. Art is subjective. So if you find 'Marnie' to be a masterpiece, you are right. I find it very dull movie making (it would only get worse with the utterly terrible 'Topaz') and I am right, too.

Hitchcock made so many fine films, I hate to even bring up his clunkers. But they exist. There are some bad Beatles' songs, too. But I'm not going there. Hitchcock was right on his game so much of the time, I simply ignore 'Marnie' because the man was an obvious genius and one of the most accomplished directors in the history of movie making.

This movie stands out for films in the genre. It's a very gimmicky tale, and a bit confusing, but it remains entertaining and by the flick's end, it asserts its own individuality.

Laughton is a wonderful villain here. His performance? For the most part, lethargic would be an apt description. His one 'Mr. Hyde' moment is his brutal killing of his paramour, a very pretty Rita Johnson, which stands out, because we see the tub of lard Laughton back to his old lethargy soon afterward, as he is enjoying a massage.

Featured also is a strangely sinister Henry Morgan, who of course later became the amiable character actor Harry Morgan of 'MASH' and 'Pete and Gladys' from television.

Maureen O'Sullivan is given a very nominal role as Ray Milland's long-suffering wife. She actually figures into the movie's melodramatic climax, but is seen throughout the film basically nagging her husband, who is of course 'married' to the Jonith Newspaper, Jonith being Laughton's role.

Farrow and his screenwriter have fashioned an unusual murder tale where we are given all of the information. We are shown the murder, and, as even Sir Alfred Hitchcock would surely appreciate, we are left to agonize over Milland's plight of easily being framed for a crime he didn't commit.

Venerable character actor Lloyd Corrigan is put to good use. George Macready is wonderful playing his usual shady, snaky character. Milland's performance is spirited and the action moves fast. It's easily a film you would appreciate more the second time.

In short, the film is made with the assumption that the audience has a brain and an imagination. And let's not forget the wonderfully eccentric Elsa Lanchester, perfectly cast as the down-on-her-luck painter out to profit one way or another from the scandal.

Joanne Woodward is the one reason this movie gratuitously called 'The Stripper' is worth a look. She comes across as genuine and sincere in a movie that for the most part is full of clichés, a fair of them quite dated.

To me, it seemed the screenplay was based on much of the heartbreak that was Marilyn Monroe, with Woodward's character never having a real family as a child, much like Norma Jean Baker.

She's hardly a 'stripper', as Joanne's character is basically a platinum blonde magician's assistant who is led into the striptease world by the very capable actor Robert Webber as her cruel and sadistic 'pimp'. This transformation occurs very late in the movie, so by this time the audience is well aware that the title of the film was false titillation.

And Joanne is pretty much covered with many balloons when her strip act is revealed. Tack on a rather phony happy Hollywood ending, and there you have 'The Stripper'.

I did enjoy seeing the very talented and original Louis Nye in a comic part. And the inclusion of Gypsy Rose Lee was a bit of inspired casting. As I say, Woodward somehow manages to rise above the rather unimaginative script. Like Beymer's character professes to Woodwad's character in the end: you do 'care' about this woman. Too bad the script didn't.

"Private Hell 36" is by no means a great film noir classic, but for what the film promises, it offers up a tasty amoral tale about a crooked cop obsessed with a woman who requires expensive things. It's good to see Steve Cochran in a meaty, villainous role as the rogue cop. (He'll always be the ill-fated 'Big Ed' in Cagney's classic 'White Heat' to me.)

What I notice about Ida Lupino is that, some thirteen years after her fine performance in 'High Sierra', she still looks very hot. She's the 'bad girl' here that is really not a 'bad girl' at all. Her crime seems to be that she's an independent, sexy chick! Which may HAVE been a crime back then. I'm certainly glad director Don ('Invasion of the Body Snatchers') Siegel's camera fell in love with Ms. Lupino's legs.

It all comes to a tragic end because this IS film noir. However, you can't help but notice a fine little twist at the end.

I thought Howard Duff was rather stiff as the 'good' cop. Dean Jagger was unexpectedly good as Duff's and Cochran's suspicious superior. This movie didn't venture much, but I was happy with the territory I was shown. A small, neat film. Ms. Lupino co-wrote it.

Sharp viewers will note the appearance of actors King Donovan and Richard Deacon, who would also appear in 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers', Siegel's classic sci-fi film.

Erich Von Stroheim was certainly one of the most colorful characters of early Hollywood. He played many evil huns in his acting career, but he attempts a romantic role here, and I found his 'Nicki' interesting. Visually, the movie grabs you from the first scene, as we get a revealing view of his morally and financially bankrupt parents. His mother sports a mustache and his father, a drunken sot, is vainly proud of his mustache, which he keeps covered in gauze during sleep!

Quite beautiful in an early role is Fay Wray, playing Nicki's true love. She looks at times like a Gloria Swanson doppelganger. The family's debaucheries are noted in elaborate parties which look not unlike Dante's Inferno.

It's a simple story and well told. Von Stroheim's 'Nicki' may love Faye and his lovely apple blossoms, but he cannot escape his parents' greed, and so winds up marrying not for love, but for money, and is decidedly unhappy at the end of the film. That's right...no happy ending in sight, as the myth of the kidnapped Danube mermaid plays out in real life.

For a silent film to hold one's interest in this jaded world shows the magic that cinema possessed even in its early wordless form. Von Stroheim's original vision was over six hours long! The version I saw ran a little under two hours, and the footage Von Stroheim shot is wonderful, especially the color sequence.

First off, I don't recognize this film as having anything to do with the forties' mini-classic. This was originally intended as a 'tv movie', and damn if it doesn't look like one. I'm expecting 'A Quinn Martin Production' credit somewhere.

The film was deemed too violent for television, and although tame by today's standards (aren't most old movies?), it was a bit brutal, courtesy the always interesting Lee Marvin and the less interesting Clu Gulager.

I didn't observe any chemistry between Cassavetes and Dickinson's characters. Hard to relate to any of the cast because they are all basically up to no good. Angie Dickinson in particular looked rather plain for a woman who could put on the glam when she wanted to.

Ronald Reagan is phoning this performance in, almost as if he's aware of the trash he is making here. When given a good script, most of these actors do fine jobs, but personally, I get a bigger kick from old gory black and white 'Untouchables' programs.

The only interesting note is that Virginia Christine, the Folgers' coffee lady, appears in both this 1964 version and the original from 1946, in different roles. Somehow turning an interesting old film noir into a sixties' television movie was a definite step backwards. I won't sit through this again.

Someone commented that this film is better than 'Laura'. I'd have to say that I agree, but that is no ringing endorsement for 'Fallen Angel', because there are at least two too many unbelievable characters.

We get quite early on that Dana Andrews is your quintessential ne'er do well con artist. His cheeky move of marrying a virtuous girl with money (Alice Faye) to eventually use his new-found wealth to romance the very sexy Linda Darnell, is a tad outrageous.

The only believable character is the teasing Darnell. She looks very fresh and lovely here.

Alice Faye looks out of place in this film noir, as she had that oh so sweet blonde innocent look. I was literally scratching my head trying to figure out why such a nice girl would be so taken with the obvious bum Andrews.

So, no, I didn't 'buy' the movie, as i didn't 'buy' 'Laura'. But the ending I must admit was very clever and a wonderful bit of off-type casting.

The ending is almost as good as Preminger's ambiguous finish to his masterpiece 'Anatomy of a Murder'.

I recently rewatched this film and I found myself enjoying it even more. Darnell is gorgeous in her role...someone's review talked about Linda as 'out of place' playing a 'bad girl' but I think she fits it perfectly.

I fell in love with Ms. Darnell as 'Stella', much like every male in the cast did! 'Stella' is the classic film noir femme fatale. I came to appreciate Charles Bickford's role as the sadistic cop, but I still could not make heads or tails of Alice Faye's blind faith in the greasy Dana Andrews' character.

This is a flawed film, but I must say, I enjoy it much more than 'Laura'. Preminger seems to have a real affection for the genre. The con man/spookchaser role played by John Carradine allows the actor to ham it up magnificently as only Carradine can.

Poor Alice Faye still seems out of place. She at first appears as your Cardboard Virtuous Blonde. It's interesting that Faye tried to reinvent herself in this film noir film, it may have worked with a better screenplay. Closer examination of Ms. Faye reveals a very lovely woman. Her appeal is still quite obvious in this mid forties' flick.

It is very little wonder that the Roger Corman production of 'The Intruder' is a very rarely seen 1962 film about integration in the South. The usually affable William Shatner plays a prototype David Duke character, he's even seen cavorting with KKK members in their motorcades.

The dialog is full of words certainly too 'offensive' by today's PC standards. The dreaded 'n' word is repeated countless times. Along with 'jigs' and 'coons', the dialogue, though 'offensive' to today's ultra-hip millennials, is gritty and real for its time.

I would suggest that 'The Intruder' is a very honest, hard-hitting film, where 'To Kill A Mockingbird' is sentimental and romantic. (I am quite aware that 'Mockingbird' is on so many people's 'favorite' lists. Excuse me.)

Personally, I think this no holds barred story about the days of school integration is totally believable and I'm impressed with the fine screenplay of Charles Beaumont, who is more famously noted for his brilliant short stories and 'Twilight Zone' scripts. He has a small role towards the end of the film.

As far as our beloved 'PC' world, the internet is a valuable tool for finding films of this ilk. For all I know, the movie may be available on DVD. But I personally had never heard of the title, and I'm familiar with much of Beaumont's and Shatner's work.

It doesn't have a happy ending. Why would it?

'Inner Sanctum' has nothing to do with the radio show, and the title hardly prepares one for a rather ugly story. To me, this is quintessential film noir...low budget, a dark film that plays like a nightmare.

Charles Russell is hardly the face of evil, as say, Robert Mitchum could play. But this man does not look right. An early scene sees the man killing a woman, and then quite willing to murder a boy. He menacingly tells the Mary Beth Hughes' character twice: 'you're real pretty, when your lips aren't moving...'

There is a mysterious psychic doctor character who relates the gruesome tale to a woman on a train. This was a very clever ploy to give the whole piece a 'recurring nightmare' effect, another outstanding feature of film noir at its best.

Is it a great movie? I was a bit disappointed in the ending. I found the usually pleasing Lee Patrick more than a bit abrasive as the doting mother. But I was fascinated in the piece enough to watch it twice. Like the movie 'Strange Illusion', the movie stays in your head...much like a recurring nightmare!

I feel I am being generous giving 'Diary' a seven. The first half of the movie reminded me of the trash of 'Looking For Mr. Goodbar'. Basically, you have a thoroughly annoying, egotistical husband (played by the usually affable Richard Benjamin) married to poor Carrie Snodgress. Although not a crowd pleaser, Ms. Snodgress registers some sort of strange appeal with me in the role.

You can hardly blame Carrie for her adulterous affair with the very young and handsome Frank Langella, but his character is what makes this the man-hating flick that it is, for Langella is his own selfish bastard. At one point, Carrie's character accuses the Langella character of being 'gay'.

My big kick in seeing this film was the appearance of 'The Alice Cooper Band' and their music sounds great, but visually, very little was shot of Alice and his rock band, which was a bit of a disappointment to me.

The ending is an incongruous 'happy' or 'philisophiical' view of life, as it seems to me that it would take a miracle to save this couple's marriage. When I think of 'philosophical' happy endings, I can only refer people to the film 'Alfie', which is in many ways a fine movie, but the dishonest ending of Alfie even glimpsing 'what it's all about' is optimism at its most phony and rings hollow as does this film's finish.

In another curious note, both this film and Diane Keaton's 'Looking For Mr. Goodbar' are rather hard to find, if nonexistent, on DVD. 'Diary' was vaguely entertaining. 'Goodbar' is simply revolting.

I've watched this movie three times and the magnificence of this film eludes me. Sure, the title music is haunting. Gene Tierney is lovely as ever. Dana Andrews is spot on as the detective investigating the 'murder' of Laura.

What throws the whole film off for me is the casting of the very fey Clifton Webb as the villain. Nastiness aside, Waldo Lydecker is way too light in his loafers to be a murderer. I have seen Webb in movies in which he was suited, so this is not a disparagement of his acting talent. To me, he is badly miscast in this piece.

And for my money, Tierney's appearance is too little and too late. The only characters that stick in my mind are the Andrews' cop, idly playing with his little toy baseball game. And Vincent Price is amusing as the kept man of Judith Anderson.

I would go so far as to say that 'Laura' is disengaging film noir, where Preminger's 'Anatomy of a Murder' is brilliant. I have watched 'Anatomy' three times, and I would watch it again. The ambiguity of the characters is amazing. The movie's end makes it clear to me that Gazzara and Remick are a kinky, twisted pair who took Jimmy Stewart and the whole justice system for a ride, but there is nothing explicit about their guilt. The movie smacks of reality to me and 'Laura' leaves a curious falseness by the film's end.

That 'Laura' sits on most people's favorite film noir lists is a puzzle to me, but movies are so subjective that I won't quibble with someone else's 'treasures'.

I reluctantly gave this film a six star rating, although it deserves a four. It sticks in my mind as one of the funniest women's prison films I've ever seen, and that's saying something!

This is like the 'grandmammy' of all women's prison pictures, being released way back in 1955. The cast contains so much promise and talent. I usually love Ms. Lupino in just about everything she did. There's a real 'b' girl ensemble cast with the very talented Jan Sterling (so good in Wilder's 'Ace in the Hole'), the beautiful Cleo Moore (who is given very little to do in a minor role), and the always interesting Audrey Totter.

But I found it hard to sit through this flick without my tongue in my cheek. Let's face it: Ida Lupino's prison ward is Cruella De Ville, Lady MacBeth and Nurse Ratchet rolled into one psycho package. I do enjoy her banter between her and husband Howard Duff (one of the few sympathetic characters in the piece). But Duff simply 'duffs' along. A good looking guy, I've found him pretty blank-faced as an actor.

Another sup-plot involves inmate Phyllis Thaxter. (Another fine actress, I know she did work in films, but she did a lot of nice television work, too.) She is losing her mind being around all of these conniving females, and she's 'almost' innocent. She killed a young girl with her automobile, but she was not 'drunk' and it is described as an 'accident'.

It's interesting to note here that perhaps today's society would be much tougher on a woman based on this crime, accident or no.

The 'coed' prison is right out of the filthy perverse mind of Albert Zugsmith. I supposed institutions similar to this may have existed, and this gave the movie another silly sub-plot to have male inmate Warren Stevens sneak over and get his wife Audrey Totter pregnant.

I know this is supposed to be grim stuff, but I was chuckling by this time. Lupino goes crazy after her murder of the inmate Totter. I thought Ms. Lupino was rather good in a role that Bette Davis would have probably relished. It reminding me of Ida's performance years earlier, going crazy in the courtroom scene at the end of 'They Drive By Night'.

Having said all that, I must confess that I found this movie pretty ridiculous. Is it a bit strange? Sure. But Lupino, who was fine playing tough, sultry, beautiful babes in so many films strikes out with a real loser here. Unintentionally hilarious.

I found this a very quick-paced thriller. Neame's camera work found fresh ways to do clichéd scenes. So many movies are described as 'Hitchcockian', but rarely deliver the Master's unique touch. I don't find Neame's work here a ripoff of Hitch's genre, but rather an homage to the great director.

Like Sir Alfred, Neame has the wrong man accused of murder. In fact, male lead Hugh Williams is quite ineffectual at any sort of defense, since the movie opens with him on trial for murder and quickly found guilty. That the fine British character actor Francis L. Sullivan is given such a short role as prosecuting attorney is fine with me. He is cleverly used to state his case against the defendant, leading into flashbacks of the drama as it really happened.

This leaves the lovely Greta Gynt to portray opera star and first class detective. Yet another Hitchcock theme is revealed as the cops and the justice system yet again fail an innocent man. It's up to Ms. Gynt to sort out the clues that lead to the real killer.

The train sequences definitely reminded me of Hitchcock's 'The Lady Vanishes', and there is a plot twist near the end which is quite delicious.

I suggest that previous reviewers who found nothing interesting in this movie must have been half asleep during their viewing. I was riveted by Neame's work with the camera, and it's definitely a movie worth a second look.

Williams as the male lead is fairly useless, a handsome man who could easily be taken as a ne'er do well living off his wife's successful operatic career. So it is up to the strong performance of Gynt's character to drive the story to its compelling end.

This movie has been described as 'film noir', but I see it as more of a 'thriller'. And like the best of Hitchcock's suspense films, this one delivers.

The previous reviewer is correct. This is an intelligent, short movie that unfortunately sports the 'generic' title 'House of Mystery', which tells you absolutely nothing. This is the type of clever story that Rod Serling wished he could have aired on his 'Twilight Zone' hour format. I mention this because the running time is about an hour, and it struck me that this film had all of the hallmarks of a really good 'Twilight Zone', and frankly, the hour long stories in that series were 'padded'...the action was stalled often to fill up a fifty minute run time.

What you get is a screenplay that anticipates the hauntings in 'Poltergeist'. A strange woman introduced at the beginning of the film becomes an incidental 'narrator' and we are led up the garden path with a strange story of an electric engineer and his faithless wife.

I don't think this film rises to the magnificence of 'The Innocents', another very 'wise' ghost story. But frankly, the film is helped by its short length. Modern audiences won't appreciate the black and white film nor the movies 'talkiness' in parts. And the piece sports no dramatic 'special effects'. Tough. They'll just miss yet another fine film.

It was an added bonus to gaze on the young beauty of Nanette Newman at the beginning of her career. Fans of Serling's 'Twilight Zone' would much appreciate the story told here.

W.C. Fields was almost Charlie Chaplin's 'anti-christ'. It was EASY to fall in love with the charming little tramp. Fields was entering dangerous territory...talk about 'sick jokes'. Lenny Bruce is often attributed as creator of the 'sick joke', but Fields was into this twisted humor decades before. It's part of American culture. Now Fields is loved, but not ADORED like Chaplin. I consider them both geniuses, but Fields was doing a dangerous thing. Making cynicism, cruelness somehow funny. He was almost the comedic male equivalent of Bette Davis, who relished portraying loathsome characters. I'm a recovering alcoholic, and I still find the drunk jokes hilarious....hell, I can relate to nearly every one! This short features nastiness on a golf course, and to me, the humor of Fields drilling on the teeth of his female patient as she raises her skirt, writhing in pain, and exhibiting a wonderful pair of legs, is precious. How Fields got away with this in the first place is a mystery...there are shots in this sequence that look like a porn movie! The Motion Picture Code censored these scenes (I've seen the shortened version), but I just downloaded a beautiful restored copy on the internet.

Upon second viewing, Dwain Esper's 'Maniac' had the offbeat charm of an amusing Ed Wood movie. Esper must be credited with offering up what in its time may have been the worst movie ever made.

On the plus side, the nudity contained in the movie is surreal and enchanting in its leering way. Scenes are very brief and fairly provocative. Frankly, I needed these scenes to wake me up. Wood's 'Orgy of the Dead', by contrast, becomes a ninety minute 'borefest' of titty dancers; it is presented in such an insipid way.

For sheer bizarro value, I have frankly never seen a cat's eye gouged out, and then eaten by the sadist, who likens the eye to a 'grape'. (We've long ago ALMOST forgotten Divine eating poodle poop in 'Pink Flamingos'.)

And I must admit, Bill Woods is not bad in the demented lead. In fact, this film could have made a decent horror movie had not the story stopped frequently to strains of sappy music as the screen displayed psychobabble supposedly describing the story in 'clinical' terms. These interruptions are comical and annoying at the same time.

And Horace Carpenter would have fit beautifully into the strange Ed Wood entourage. It was hilarious as Carpenter accuses Woods' character of being a 'ham'...as Horace chews the scenery like a ravenous screen glutton! (Carpenter may have thought he was in a silent film for all I know!)

This is a bad film, and I refuse to read any deep artistic value into what was done here. It lacks the sophisticated humor of 'Plan 9 From Outer Space'. And Bill Woods is no Tor Johnson. If you feel compelled to watch this oddity (maybe you loath cats), try to remember this cinema will never be confused with 'Citizen Kane'.

I must be a snob. I certainly admired the work Brian Clemens did on 'The Avengers', and I was impressed with the intelligence of this episode's script, but I found the use of video tape to be cheesy...not to mention jarring when inter-cut with actual filmed sequences.

I must confess, I have recently viewed much of the old black and white 'Thriller' anthology series hosted by Boris Karloff, and I was truly impressed with the fine black and white photography used on this television series. Clemens' own series, 'The Avengers', used film throughout, and the black and white episodes are fine. Although I'm certainly glad that eventually they switched to color film to photograph the exquisite Diana Rigg.

But film has a language all of its own, and black and white film can almost be poetry. Lighting and moods are beautifully accomplished on film, but what can you possibly infer with video tape?

As far as the episode itself, I found both Donna Mills and Judy Carne not only in their prime, but capable actresses. The story vaguely hints at the wonderful 'The Innocents', the psychological sixties' horror film starring Deborah Kerr. That movie is brilliant, and so much of it has to do with the language of black and white film.

I know that video tape became the medium of many television shows during the seventies. But in a thriller, such as this story, it only detracts from the suspense. You would think video tape would make everything seem more 'real', and perhaps that is part of the problem.

Black and white film looks 'real', which is a contradiction in itself, since we do not see things in black and white. But video tape almost negates any 'mood' a director is trying to create.

And I often think of another contradiction. Sir Alfred Hitchcock, a superb painter of black and white, often nudges his audiences in the shoulder and reminds them that they are watching a movie. His films are full of obvious toy miniatures, his shots at times look surreal. Detective Arbogast (Martin Balsam in 'Psycho') floats down the stairs in what looks to me a very contrived fall, at least to my eyes. But it is a perfect instance of Hitchcock reminding you that you are watching a movie.

With video tape, I'm always aware someone is making a 'film'. Maybe I've spent too much time behind a video camera, but I still maintain the medium has no 'language'.

I suspect it is an awful lot cheaper to opt for video tape over film. And video tape has its uses. Many people have mixed opinions about 'The Blair Witch Project'. I suspect many viewers were anticipating a blood and gore fest.

But for me, 'The Blair Witch Project' worked BECAUSE it looked like what it pretended to be...a slipshod video tape recording of teenagers exploring a mysterious wooded area. Granted, this was a one gimmick movie, but it was a gimmick wonderfully realized.

I'm sure there are many viewers and fans of Clemen's 'Thriller' series that do not even give the video taped aspect a thought. They are no doubt younger than me. They might be people who have never sat through a black and white film! Sorry if I bored that audience....

To begin with, I understand that I am not sitting down to watch great cinema, such as 'Citizen Kane'. On the other hand, I am quite struck by the silliness of all of the beach movies, and you can throw this into the mix, along with all of those incredibly inane Elvis movies.

On the plus side, you have the hopelessly cute Deborah Walley, the very hot Yvonne 'Batgirl' Craig. Also an asset is seeing Lesley Gore and the Godfather of Soul, James Brown. Although, I must confess, it's a bit unsettling having James Brown break into your ski home around all of those nice white boys and girls. At least the crackers seem to enjoy James' soul music.

On the negative side, we are treated to Frankie Avalon and Dwayne Hickman in drag. And, like most teenage comedies of its time, it's not funny.

I suppose if you were raised in sunny California, this might elicit some 'memories'. But all of these teenage romps, along with just about any Elvis movie you can name, has no basis in reality for most people.

Even the Beatles went Hollywood, with the preposterous 'Help!' 'Help!' of course features a wonderful Lennon-McCartney movie score, but the preposterous plot is as silly as Elvis playing a race car driver. It doesn't 'help' that the Fab Four's first film proved that you could make a quality, amusing film about pop music stars without insulting the viewers' intelligence.

The only true joy to be derived from most of the teenage movies of this period are the musical acts that are featured in so many of them. It would have been nice to have cut Ms. Walley's and Mr. Avalon's music segues and include more James Brown and Lesley Gore.

I like a lot of bad movies. Some of them are really enjoyable. 'Ski Party' is not.

Most people will find this old English film too talky to even bother with, but I found this a wonderfully subtle little ghost story. This is all done of course without computer graphics and awesome special effects. I don't think there is one special effect used in the entire film, all movings of the 'ghost' merely suggested by camera work.

So this movie will be found quite dull by today's jaded standards.

Margaret Lockwood is quite lovely in this feature, although to my mind, she was never more delectable than as the character she played in Hitchcock's 'The Lady Vanishes'.

James Mason, a young man at the time, plays an elderly retired businessman. Barbara Mullen is a standout as his psychic wife.

The biggest kick for me was the appearance of Ernest 'Dr. Pratorius' Thesiger as the mysterious Dr. Marsham. It is quite fitting, considering his history in the horror genre, that Thesiger was brought on to play the doctor.

Subtlety has no place in the minds of today's moviegoers, so this movie will continue to be ignored. The story itself reminded me of one of the better episodes of 'One Step Beyond'.

Most movies today would treat this material as 'horror' and would probably result in yet another over-the-top gore feature. But there is no blood; this is a subtle ghost story, and an imagination is required to enjoy this piece.