Classic Films in Focus: HIS KIND OF WOMAN (1951)

His Kind of Woman (1951) combines film noir and cock-eyed comedy in the performances of two great stars, Robert Mitchum and Vincent Price. Mitchum handles the grimmer business, facing off against Raymond Burr and a gang of nasty lackeys, while Price hams it up gloriously as an actor who yearns to play the hero in real life. John Farrow directs the whole with a skillful hand, weaving together the lighter and darker elements to create a thoroughly entertaining film that also highlights the charms of Jane Russell as the love interest of both leading men.

Mitchum heads up the cast as Dan Milner, a gambler whose run of bad luck pushes him to accept a mysterious but lucrative job in Mexico. Installed in a posh resort and awaiting further orders, Milner tries to figure out who hired him and why, but the more he learns the less he likes it. Meanwhile, Milner strikes up a romance with Lenore Brent (Jane Russell) in spite of her relationship with Hollywood star Mark Cardigan (Vincent Price).

The picture begins as straightforward noir and slowly evolves into something else. Very early on we see Milner get worked over for a bet he didn't make, and we hear that bad things have been happening to him a lot lately. Soon he's told that "maybe this part of the country isn't lucky for you anymore." Milner is no dummy; he realizes that his acceptance of the Mexican job has been orchestrated by some unknown party that probably doesn't have his welfare in mind, but he knows a fix when he's in one. He bides his time for an opportunity to fight back, which gives him plenty of leisure to pursue Lenore, even though she isn't what she seems. All of this is strictly noir material, and when Raymond Burr's vicious Nick Ferraro shows up things get really ugly. Around the midway point, however, Price's bombastic, good-natured character starts to undermine our fatalistic view of the action with his hilarious antics. Whether he's clapping at his own picture, spouting Shakespeare, or firing shots at Milner's enemies, Cardigan is always a hoot, and Price steals every scene where he turns up. Mitchum makes the movie cool, but Price makes it fun, and His Kind of Woman thus occupies a space all its own in the classic noir canon.

The film's other performances also contribute to its overall appeal, with Russell in fine form, especially during her musical numbers. She holds the screen against both of her male costars and moves easily between the picture's moods. Jim Backus provides comedy with a hint of menace as a scheming resort guest with his eye on a pretty newlywed, and Tim Holt is solid as a federal agent who tries to get Milner to help the law nab Ferraro. Charles McGraw is thoroughly unpleasant as Thompson, whose job is to keep Milner in line until his boss arrives, but Raymond Burr really takes the prize for worst bad guy as the brutal and possibly insane Ferraro. Deported from the United States but determined to get back to his underworld business, Ferraro plans to replace Milner by having plastic surgery to look like him. He doesn't take it well when Milner wants out of the arrangement. "I hate welchers, Milner," he growls, just before he knees Milner in the groin and then has him lashed with a belt. Later he threatens Milner with a Nazi drug that will destroy his mind and slowly kill him. It's no wonder that Milner objects to handing over his identity.

Dedicated fans of Vincent Price, who was a noted gourmet, will appreciate the scene in which Cardigan enthusiastically prepares a duck for dinner. For more of Price in film noir, see Laura (1944), Shock (1946), and The Web (1947). Robert Mitchum tackles more noir roles in Out of the Past (1947), The Racket (1951), and Angel Face (1952). Catch Jane Russell in The Outlaw (1943), The Paleface (1948), and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953). John Farrow earned an Oscar nomination for Best Director for Wake Island (1940); he also directed Mitchum in another noir thriller, Where Danger Lives (1950).

Classic Films in Focus: ANGEL FACE (1952)

Robert Mitchum and Jean Simmons play a deadly game of dysfunctional romance in Otto Preminger's Angel Face (1952), which features a particularly tragic femme fatale caught in the undertow of her own insanity. Everyone around her is in danger of being dragged down, as well, but Mitchum's protagonist is foolhardy enough to see the danger signs and still dive in. Angel Face benefits tremendously from Preminger's direction and the performances of the two stars, but the picture ultimately belongs to Simmons, whose sweet face conceals the murderous disorder of her obsessive mind.

Mitchum stars as Frank, an ambulance driver who answers a call at the Tremayne house only to become drawn into the family's affairs by Diane (Jean Simmons), a beautiful but manipulative young woman who hates her wealthy stepmother (Barbara O'Neil) as much as she adores her novelist father (Herbert Marshall). Frank blows off his steady girl, Mary (Mona Freeman), in order to spend time with Diane, even though he realizes that he's setting himself up for trouble. When Diane is accused of murder, Frank finds his own life on the line, as well, and he's forced to stick with her in spite of his desire to break things off and go back to Mary.

Mitchum, of course, was made for film noir, but this performance sees him in a more passive role. Frank lets Diane lead him around by the nose until it's far too late to walk out, even though he eventually gets fed up enough to try. The actor has a unique ability to make us believe how a smart guy might do a series of very stupid things. "Never be the innocent bystander," Frank says, "that's the guy that always gets hurt." He doesn't take his own advice. Simmons is a marvel as the siren who lures Frank on toward disaster; she isn't intentionally bad so much as she is utterly deranged, a broken doll with a little girl's face and a jealous killer's heart. Like Ellen Berent in Leave Her to Heaven (1945) and Annie Laurie Starr in Gun Crazy (1950), Diane is capable of love, but it's a passionate, possessive storm of emotion that destroys the ones it adores. Diane loves her father, but she can't tolerate her stepmother's intrusion into their lives, and her desire to get rid of Catherine Tremayne takes her well beyond the point of no return. She loves Frank, even though she knows that he never stops thinking about returning to Mary. Eventually she realizes that there's only one way to make sure that he never walks out.

The supporting performances are all solid, with Herbert Marshall especially sympathetic and rather pitiable as the novelist whose marriage into money has ruined him for his art. We can see why Diane worships her father, but we also recognize the essential weakness of his nature. Barbara O'Neil does an excellent job with the tough role of Diane's stepmother. Diane, resentful and childish, wants to cast her as a fairy tale villain, while O'Neil shows us the extent to which Diane's vision is self-deluding. Mona Freeman has some very good scenes with Mitchum as the justly offended girlfriend, but her best moment is the luncheon confrontation with Diane, where Mary proves that she's not going to play Diane's duplicitous game. Leon Ames is polished and rather disturbing as the attorney who defends Diane, and Jim Backus turns up for a few energetic scenes on behalf of the prosecution.

Otto Preminger directed other noir films, including Laura (1944), Fallen Angel (1945), and Whirlpool (1949); he also directed Mitchum again in the Western, River of No Return (1954). See more of the magnificent Mitchum in Out of the Past (1947), The Night of the Hunter (1955), and Cape Fear (1962). You'll find Jean Simmons in Great Expectations (1946), Black Narcissus (1947), and Spartacus (1960). Barbara O'Neil is best remembered today for playing Scarlett O'Hara's mother in Gone with the Wind (1939), while Herbert Marshall is known for Foreign Correspondent (1940) and The Letter (1940).

Classic Films in Focus: MACABRE (1958)

Macabre is less gimmick-driven than some of William Castle's later, more infamous shockers, despite the opening warning that audience members should alert the theater management if patrons suffer fear-induced medical emergencies. The title makes a similar overstatement of the thrills on offer, since most of the movie follows a weirdly subdued search for a child who has been abducted and buried alive. While Macabre comes up short on genuine scares, it does have that B-movie drive-in appeal that entertains the right kind of viewer in the right kind of mood, and it offers the additional attraction of familiar TV stars William Prince, Jim Backus, and Ellen Corby in very different roles.

William Prince stars as troubled doctor Rodney Barrett, whose practice has suffered after the deaths of his wife, Alice (Dorothy Morris), and her blind sister, Nancy (Christine White). Police chief Jim Tyloe (Jim Backus) and other townspeople blame Barrett in both cases, and someone apparently hates him enough to kidnap his young daughter and bury her alive. With the help of his lovestruck nurse, Polly (Jacqueline Scott), and his frail father-in-law (Philip Tonge), Barrett searches for the little girl in the hours before Nancy's funeral, but the situation is even more twisted and macabre than anyone suspects.

The closing credits beg viewers not to give away the surprise ending, which certainly does come as a shock, but the lead-in to that conclusion mostly falls flat, with Barrett and Polly wandering around town and poking half-heartedly at various sites where the missing child might be interred. They barely pick up their shovels before giving up each successive spot as a dead end, and their efforts lack any sense of urgency. The flashback sequences, which shed light on the lives and deaths of the Wetherby sisters, prove more interesting, especially the ones that reveal the love affair between Tyloe and the reckless Nancy. The closing credits indicate that Nancy and Tyloe were married, although the movie itself contradicts that, especially given Nancy's reaction to her pregnancy. Tyloe, Nancy, and Barrett himself are all depicted as fairly unlikable characters, with Barrett absent during his pregnant wife's fatal delivery because of his dalliance with an attractive friend. Polly and the dead Alice are more sympathetic, although both waste their affection on a man who clearly has issues with fidelity.

Those interested in classic film and television stars will find the casting of Macabre more interesting than the movie itself. Jim Backus, best remembered for Gilligan's Island and his voice work on Mister Magoo, is the most palpable presence as the hostile, threatening police chief. He's surprisingly convincing as a dominant male antagonist, throwing his weight around to bully Barrett and lusting after blind, bewitching Nancy. Ellen Corby, who has a supporting role as Barrett's childcare provider, is familiar to a generation of TV viewers as Grandma Walton, but she was also an Oscar-nominated film actress with roles in I Remember Mama (1948), Caged (1950), and dozens of other productions. William Prince worked mostly in television after an unremarkable film career; although less familiar to modern viewers, he did brief stints on many popular series and soap operas.

For Castle's most iconic efforts, see House on Haunted Hill (1959), The Tingler (1959), and 13 Ghosts (1960). Catch Jim Backus making other big screen appearances in His Kind of Woman (1951), Don't Bother to Knock (1952), and Rebel Without a Cause (1955). Macabre is currently available for streaming on Warner Archive Instant.

Classic Films in Focus: PAT AND MIKE (1952)

Following Adam's Rib (1949) in the progression of Hepburn-Tracy pictures, Pat and Mike (1952) reunites all of the key players who had made that film such a success; we have our two stars, of course, and also director George Cukor and writers Ruth Gordon and Garson Kanin, who were apparently inspired to write the story because of Katharine Hepburn's real talent for athletic pursuits. While this outing for the collaborators lacks the snap of the earlier picture, fans of the leading couple will find it worthwhile, although the most enthusiastic viewers will probably be those with an established interest in sports stars of the 1940s and 50s, since many of them make cameo appearances and demonstrate the sports for which they were known. Pat and Mike is not the best of the Hepburn-Tracy movies, but it features several solid performances and reveals a surprisingly quirky sense of humor that most people will appreciate.

Katharine Hepburn plays Patricia "Pat" Pemberton, a widowed university athletics teacher whose talent for sports dissipates whenever her pushy, condescending fiance, Collier Weld (William Ching), is on the scene. Determined to prove herself to herself if not to him, Pat accepts the offer of management from promoter Mike Conovan (Spencer Tracy), even though it's clear that Conovan has a slightly crooked idea of professional sports. They embark on a tour of tennis and golf matches, where Pat performs brilliantly until Collier shows up. Mike's evolving affection for Pat, meanwhile, inspires him to go straight, even though his investors take a dim view of any practice that hurts their chances of making money.

Pat is a different sort of character for Hepburn because of her nervousness around Collier, which is revealed to the audience through Pat's habit of putting an uncertain hand to her lip every time she spots Collier in the crowd. Away from his life-draining effect, Pat is confident and strong, even to the point of upsetting Mike by saving him from his mobster investors. Some viewers will find Pat's weakness irritating, particularly because Hepburn is playing her, but the story means to warn us against yoking ourselves to partners who undermine our abilities instead of nurturing them. We understand that Mike, class differences aside, is a better partner for Pat because he believes in her and wants her to succeed, while Collier only wants her to settle down and be a good little wife.

Hepburn is in particularly fine physical form, displaying her athleticism and looking much younger than she had in the previous year's The African Queen (1951). Tracy, however, appears older than his 52 years, and in this picture the age difference between the pair is at its most glaring. By Desk Set (1957) they would look well-matched again, the seven years between them not really being that much by Hollywood standards. Pat and Mike was their seventh picture together, and reportedly Hepburn's favorite, although most viewers prefer their first film, Woman of the Year (1942), and Adam's Rib (1949), their sixth, as the best of the nine movies they made together. Their last movie, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967), is hard to watch because everyone on set knew that Tracy was dying, and the real-life emotions bleed through to give the picture a powerful but almost unbearable pathos.

Classic film fans will appreciate supporting and walk-on performances from Aldo Ray, Jim Backus, Charles Bronson, Chuck Connors, and Carl "Alfalfa" Switzer, while sports enthusiasts will enjoy seeing legends like Babe Didrikson and Alice Marble. Gordon and Kanin earned an Oscar nomination for their screenplay, the third nomination for their collaborative work. See more of George Cukor's work with Katharine Hepburn in Sylvia Scarlett (1935), Holiday (1938), and The Philadelphia Story (1940). You'll find Aldo Ray in We're No Angels (1955) and The Green Berets (1968). Look for more of William Ching in D.O.A. (1950) and In a Lonely Place (1950).

Classic Films in Focus: DON'T BOTHER TO KNOCK (1952)

Marilyn Monroe is best remembered today for her work in musical comedies like Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) and Some Like It Hot (1959), but the blonde bombshell appeared in darker films, as well, among them the 1952 psychological thriller, Don't Bother to Knock, in which Monroe plays a mentally disturbed young woman whose employment as a hotel babysitter turns out to be a Very Bad Idea. Fans of Monroe who have only seen the lighter pictures will find this film a fascinating glimpse at a different side of the iconic star, one that demonstrates her talent as a real actress in a complex dramatic role. Directed by Roy Ward Baker, the movie also features Richard Widmark and Anne Bancroft, along with an excellent supporting cast that includes Elisha Cook, Jr. and Jim Backus.

Widmark plays the lead character, Jed, a pilot whose relationship with hotel chanteuse Lyn (Bancroft) is on the rocks. Stung by her rejection, Jed puts the moves on Nell (Monroe), but he soon discovers that the young woman is dangerously unhinged. Her instability spirals out of control as she confuses Jed with her own dead lover and blames her charge, Bunny, an innocent little girl, for coming between them.

Widmark, a veteran of noir thrillers, is an interesting choice for the lead, but he pulls it off. We expect him to be callous and unsympathetic, but his shifting perspective over the course of the picture works well. His girlfriend correctly accuses him of lacking "an understanding heart" during the opening scenes, and we see that flaw demonstrated in his willingness to lie to and seduce Nell; later, however, he comes to pity and worry about both Nell and Bunny. This encounter changes Jed in some profound and positive ways, putting him on an upward arc even as Nell slides down. Anne Bancroft makes her very first screen appearance as Jed's girl, Lyn, and she's a good foil to Monroe, although she appears in relatively few scenes. Elisha Cook, Jr. makes excellent use of his small part as the elevator operator who is also Nell's uncle, while Jim Backus provides plenty of personality for the supporting character of Bunny's businessman father.

Monroe brings fragility and fierce energy to her role as Nell; we realize right away that there's something wrong with the girl, but it's hard to pin down until the details of her past start spilling out. When she first appears she seems repressed, plain even, and very, very young; there's no hint of the sex appeal for which the actress would become so famous. Later, in borrowed finery, she plays at being a woman of the world, but the broken heart and mind of her character remain central to our perception of her. It's a shame that Monroe didn't get more parts like this one over the course of her career; it might have given more substance to our sense of her.

Try Niagara (1953) for another thriller with Monroe. You'll find Richard Widmark playing more typical characters in Kiss of Death (1947) and Road House (1948), but he also turns up in some good Westerns and more straightforward dramas. Anne Bancroft would go on to win a Best Actress Oscar for The Miracle Worker (1962) and achieve Hollywood immortality as Mrs. Robinson in The Graduate (1967). If you like Donna Corcoran as Bunny, catch her in Angels in the Outfield (1951), as well. Roy Ward Baker also directed A Night to Remember (1953) and a number of Hammer horror films.

An earlier version of this review originally appeared on Examiner.com. The author retains all rights to this content.