Last night's movie was "The Midnight Story"(1957), a murder mystery melodrama set in San Francisco's Italian Catholic community. Stony Curtis is "Joe Martini", and we have to stop here to ask: is that a great name, or what?. It's like being Joe Cool, but your identifier is The Martini instead of Coolness. Imagine a bystander asking, "Who's he?" "Why, he's Joe Martini of course". And how about Martini in "Cuckoo's Nest"? He was just plain Martini with no Joe in front. "Hotel" was his deal. At any rate, Joe is a motorcycle officer who is devastated when, in the opening scene, a priest is killed late one night while walking back to his parish. "Father Giuseppe" (John Cliff) was the closest thing Joe ever had to an actual father. He grew up in Father Giuseppe's St. Eustace orphanage. Father even steered him toward being a policeman.
Joe talks to the detectives on the case. "Please let me help." "Sorry, Joe," he's told, "you're only a traffic cop. Leave it to homicide." "Then let me join homicide." "There's a long process for that. Sorry." Joe gets so upset he quits, to - as usual - try to solve the case by himself. At Father Giuseppe's funeral, he gets what he feels is an interesting clue, when he observes a man in emotional torment, agonizing and clutching a rosary. He goes back to the station to offer this detail to the detectives, but they aren't interested. "Why is it unusual to see someone grieving at a funeral? And anyway, Joe - didn't you quit the force?"
But to Joe, the man's reaction was extreme, like he was in the same pain Joe is feeling. He must've been close to Father, he thinks, and decides to find out who the man is. Asking around, Joe discovers he's "Sylvio Malatesta" (Gilbert Roland), the owner of a crab stand on the wharf. Playing "anonymous" to get close to Sylvio, Joe goes to his stand for a bowl of chowder. While there, he strikes up a conversation with Sylvio and asks him for a job, using the old "I'm new in town" routine. Sylvio is magnanimous, the kind of guy who wants to make sure everyone is happy, and he's Italian, so it's in his blood. He takes to Joe right off, and invites him home for dinner. "I wanna you meet-a my family." Joe goes, hoping to glean more about Sylvio's appearance at Father Giuseppe's funeral, but instead is reeled in by his family's Italian Warmth and verbosity. Everyone-a talk-a a-mile-a minute. Little brother "Peanuts" (Richard Monda) is a high school track star. "Momma" (Argentina Brunetti) is momma. Sister "Anna" (Marisa Pavan) is beautiful and high strung, because she's tired of being An Object for all the cretins on the block. But Joe is different. He's quiet, handsome, and deferential. Momma wants Anna married. Sylvio, the man of the family, wants what Momma wants (there's no Poppa), and he encourages Joe to take Anna to the upcoming church dance.
Before Joe knows what's hit him, he has moved into the Malatesta house. Now, he's one of the family. Other than Father Giuseppe, he's never had anyone who cared about him in this way, and because he's fallen in love with Anna (after taking her to the dance), he's also done a 180 with regards to Father Giuseppe's murder and now wants to prove that Sylvio had nothing to do with it, even though we've learned that Sylvio left a card game, off the same alley, right around the time of the killing. Joe goes to the back room of the bar where the illegal poker game is held. There, he meets Sylvio's gambling buddies, who paint a different picture from the smiling, generous family man Joe has come to know. Sylvio, it seems, is a guy who skips out on his debts, goes missing for weeks, and knows a pool shark/adulterer named "Charlie Cuneo" (Herburt Vigran), who regularly sees a prostitute that Sylvio covers for. Maybe he's not the man Joe thinks he is. Maybe he's leading a double life.
By now, the SFPD homicide detectives have also had a change of mind. Where previously they dismissed Joe's mentions of Sylvio, they now (knowing more about him) think he killed Father Giuseppe. That's what Joe initially thought, too. But now, because he's become part of Sylvio's family, and wants to marry Anna, he strains to find an alibi for Sylvio. Anna is tormented by Joe's secrecy, and eventually finds out, from a nun at St. Eustace, that he's an ex-cop.
Most of the movie is melodrama because of the love story of Anna (the beautiful daughter in a traditional, very Catholic Italian family) and Joe the former orphan who wants to catch Father's murderer. But because he loves Anna, he cant bear the growing certainty that all evidence points to her brother Sylvio as the murderer. But Joe wonders: what on earth could've been his motive? Sylvio truly does love his family, and his restaurant, and he's always there for everyone at every turn. Maybe there's something strange about a man who's this happy, all the time? Is it a put-on, a false front?
Gilbert Roland, a silent screen star, was - by the evidence of this movie - a phenomenal actor. He should've been nominated for his performance as Sylvio. Stony Curtis was top notch also, despite his pecadillos (and he was reputedly not a very nice man), and Marisa Pavan, who plays Anna, was a notable dramatic beauty of the time. I was watching her, knowing I'd seen her in other movies, but there was something more, and when I looked her up I discovered what it was; she was the identical twin sister of the tragic Pier Angeli, the one-time girlfriend of James Dean, who slowly killed herself after his demise. Marisa is still with us, however, at 91. The cops in the movie are hard-nosed San Franciscans. News flash: it ain't all hippies up there. I know it seems like it's Commie Central, but there's also a strong conservative and law and order side to that city (thank goodness), and one of the largest Catholic communities in the country. At the end, the details of which I can't reveal, Joe, as a Catholic, chooses forgiveness in order to bring the case to a close. All has been said and done, and the final outcome is up to God. A Best Actor Oscar goes to Gilbert Roland, Best Supporting Actress for Marisa Pavan. Two Huge Thumbs Up for "The Midnight Story". The picture is widescreen and razor sharp. Black and white photography by the great Russell Metty. ////
Now, before we begin the next review, I have to ask you : Can you even believe we found a new Ron Foster movie? I mean, at this stage of the game? That's like finding an unseen John Agar, and there's something about those two guys; every time we think we've seen all their available movies, another one pops up. Man, how lucky can we film fans be? This time, it's a Foster horror film, and a low-key one at that, from the less-is-more school, and we also get Merry Anders as an added bonus! How much do we love Merry Anders, are you kidding? She's most decidedly our kind of gal, and in "House of the Damned"(1963), she and Ron Foster make the perfect married couple, actually in love with each other, without emotional problems, and they're easy going, low maintenance. A fan remarked that there's a "gentle" quality to this film, an unusual word to attribute to a horror film. It is gentle, and to be honest, not much happens, but on the journey to the major twist ending, it's plenty scary.
As Miles Davis said, "It's the notes you don't play", and in "House" there are a lot of unplayed notes. Foster is "Scott Campbell", an architect, who, as the movie opens, is called in the middle of the night by a lawyer friend who slings a job his way. "I need you to drive up the coast to inspect that old castle house. You know the one; six stories, the supposed dungeons in the basement, and the staircases that lead to nowhere." (It's based on the legendary Winchester House). The lawyer, "Joe Schiller" (Richard Crane), has a client, a real estate developer who may want to turn the castle into a hotel, if it's feasible. The main problem is that it's stigmatized because it was formerly owned by a murderess, a nutty old woman who blew off a trespasser's head with a shotgun. "They never could identify him," Schiller notes. As for the old woman, "She's locked up in a loony bin. But," he adds "she's escaped several times. Those luxury asylums aren't exactly built like Alcatraz."
The movie is from 20th Century Fox, shot in widescreen black-and-white (hooray, color would've ruined it), and the studio quality allays any pre-watch fears that we are in for an early '60s cheapie. Horror got a bad rep after 1960 and "Psycho", because all the bottom dollar hacks jumped in after Hitch had broken down the Taboo Door (and for the last time, Gilligan, it's taboo, not "Tab who?"). Also, what are now called "psychotronic" films became the rage, the super-cheapies with "psychotic" drug undertones and mental illness themes. Think of them as "pre-hippie wierdo films", with acting and production values that make Ed Wood look like Spielberg. Except for Hammer Studios, post-1960 Horror was a wasteland for a while. But this flick does a lot with very little.
First and foremost is the house that Ron and Merry are supposed to inspect. It has a black cat. It has fifty rooms but only 13 keys. "Count 'em!" insists the realtor. "Don't worry, they unlock all the doors." They drive up dirt roads to get there, past Malibu, until a dead-end sawhorse blocks their progress. Foster removes it, but other problems follow. The power goes out the first night, leaving the castle in chiaroscuro. Then, the keys are stolen in the wee hours. We see the silhouette of the man (or thing) that steals them, and it's goosebump creepy.
But then the low key style pulls you back to level ground. What's going on? What kind of horror movie is this?
Joe Schiller's wife shows up. She's not a happy camper. A hot blooded Italian gal, she thinks her hubby is cheating on her, and using the castle as a love nest. Ron and Merry don't wanna get in between them, but the wife soon disappears. They can't find her despite a search of the whole house. Still, there are rooms they can't unlock, because, though they've recovered their keys, two are missing.
By now, they've called the insane asylum to make sure the old crazy woman, the former owner, is still locked up. Have you ever noticed how they used to call them "insane asylums" but dropped the "insane"? They did that because "insane" is a scarier-than-heck word. Think about it: "Insane!" It's one of those words that sounds like what it is. Anyhow, the old woman is indeed still locked up, and you'll find out how we know that but you won't like it.
I don't wanna tell you any more about the disappearance of the lawyer's wife. Let's just say that there are two, very minor, "reveals" in the early going, that are inserted skillfully in order to stand out. They are brief, and you go, "what the hell was that?" And then it's back to Ron and Merry searching the house. The house and the lighting get equal star billing. The search for Mrs. Schiller builds, until her lawyer hubby is kicking down locked doors rather than calling police, because "they won't believe what is likely going on here. They'll just blame it on juvenile delinquents." The black kitty meows. Ron Foster drives downhill to Malibu to check with the realtor. When he gets back, Merry Anders is trapped.
I don't want to tell you the ending, but it's not what you think it will be. Then again, you might guess it from the earlier clues. I did not. But think "gentle" as the IMDB fan said. This movie is different, and will stay with you because they did it just right, with the casting, the production values, and the minimalist approach. It's the antidote to all the proto-drug-induced "horror" cheapies, the psychotronic low budget acid trips that were made after about 1963, until horror returned big time with "Rosemary's Baby" in 1968. Then, in the 1970s, horror was king. (and Hammer was king all through the 1960s, because they didn't take as much LSD in England, or pander to that crowd). But when the movies were still made by the studios, in the dying years of the studio system, they could do any style, and do it well. Two Bigs verging on Two Huge for "House of the Damned", an atmospheric mini-classic with an unexpected ending. The picture is widescreen and razor sharp. ////
And that's all for tonight. My blogging music was the first two Belly albums. Remember Belly, fronted by Tanya Donelly? They were one of the great early '90s dream-pop bands, when many of said bands were fronted by guitar strumming girls with sweet voices. Check 'em out, they were great. My late night is "The Flying Dutchman" by Wagner. I hope you had a nice day, and I send you Tons of Love, as always.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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