Thriller Archive

After a couple of weeks break from watching (and writing about) films (bar a couple of visits to the cinema, which I’ll hopefully go into in more detail elsewhere) it’s time to get stuck in to that pile of DVDs again.

For most men having their wives discover they’ve been playing away from home tops the list of worst case scenarios but successful businessman Harry Mitchell (Roy Scheider) has bigger worries, like blackmail and murder.

John Frankenheimer’s adaptation of Elmore Leonard’s novel (with a script co-written by the author) is a by the numbers thriller that could be an ‘80s TV movie but for two things – a first rate cast and copious amounts of naked flesh.

The nudity garners the film an 18 certificate while the cast adds a touch of class. Roy Scheider is as solid as ever as the married man tempted by a younger woman. Scheider’s Mitchell is a regular guy, albeit one with a financially lucrative business, and he makes you sympathise with the character far more than Michael Douglas did in a similar role in Fatal Attraction. Ann-Margret is decent enough as his wife although she does get one unintentionally funny scene where she chases Scheider and a late night intruder as they wrestle round the house, all the time keeping a torch on them to allow the viewer to see what’s going on. I was half expecting her to get a credit for Lighting at the end of the film! It’s John Glover’s porn entrepreneur/blackmailer/kidnapper/murderer who steals the film, with the actor positively oozing sleaze.

This 1960 Hammer production gives film noir a touch of Northern grit as Stanley Baker hunts an escaped convict through the streets of Manchester.

Inspector Harry Martineau put Don Starling away and, when he hears he’s escaped, he knows in his gut he’ll come back to Manchester. Sure enough Starling does return and organises a robbery in order to get some going away money, but things go wrong and a girl is killed. Knowing he faces the death penalty if caught he’ll do anything to avoid capture but Martineau closes in on him and the film climaxes with an excellent rooftop shootout between the two men.

This is Baker’s film, bringing Martineau to life both as the dogged professional cop and the man whose home life is falling apart. There’s none of the histrionics you might expect, with the film doing a decent job of presenting real(ish) police work. Martineau gets his man through belligerence and intimidation and hard work not beating confessions out of people.

There’s a good supporting cast backing Baker up. Donald Pleasence gives the part of Gus Hawkins (the man whose money gets stolen) his own unique touch (he’s constantly blowing his nose with a large white handkerchief) and as Hawkins much younger and unfaithful wife Billie Whitelaw won herself a most promising newcomer BAFTA nomination.

When his son is kidnapped MI6 man John Tarrant (Michael Caine) finds himself the prime suspect, partly due to an elaborate frame job by the real culprit, McKee (John Vernon), but also because he does such a good job of keeping his emotions in check. His own professionalism is his undoing, with even his boss Cedric Harper (Donald Pleasence), the very image of British reserve, surprised by his lack of emotion. Tarrant goes rogue to clear his name, save his son and uncover the traitor in his own organisation.

Don Siegel may seem an odd choice to direct this British spy story but it’s that outsider’s view that makes the first half of The Black Windmill so interesting. Tarrant’s marriage is on the rocks, his emotional reserve even extending to his wife, but as the film progresses and he finds himself on the outside he learns the only one he can count on is his wife. He’s forced to decide what’s more important – family or work? You get the impression he doesn’t even like his job, that he does it because he’s good at it.

As Tarrant Caine is excellent, coldly emotionless at the start but regaining his humanity as he realises what’s important. There’s guilt too, here’s a man who’s profession, rather than provide for his family, has put them in harms way.

Watching this 1931 version of the classic tale was like watching a movie reflected in a funhouse mirror, everything’s there it’s just a little distorted. Ricardo Cortez is an oilier, smarmier Spade, much less likable than Bogie’s take on the role, Otto Matieson is a taller, yet less threatening Dr. Cairo than Peter Lorre, Dudley Digges is a less rotund Casper Gutman than Sydney Greenstreet…the list goes on.

With one exception the cast in the later, more famous version, were superior, that exception being Dwight Frye. If you wanted barking mad then Dwight was the man to call in 1931, appearing as Renfield in Dracula and Fritz in Frankenstein, in The Maltese Falcon though he’s a much more subtle loony, playing Gutman’s pet killer, Wilmer. He doesn’t get a lot of dialogue and has to do most of his acting with his eyes, but he gives the impression he could explode at any moment.

While it’s always going to take second place to John Huston’s version this was still very entertaining, more so for being pre-Hays Code and therefore a little racier than you might expect.

One of the rare occasions where the original isn’t the best.

Moto is more spy than detective this time out, working to stop an uprising against the French government in Cambodia. He’s aided by two American filmmakers and a beautiful female pilot whose plane crashes close to where Moto is posing as an archaeologist.

As with the other films in the series the budget is limited, the acting variable and the direction uninspired. In fact there’s only one reason for watching these – Peter Lorre. If you’re a fan (as I am) this will be a fun sixty minutes, as Lorre again shows us the contrasting sides to the Japanese detective – charming around friends but a cold blooded killer when required. He’s like a mini Asian James Bond with the added talent of being a master of disguise.

This is the fourth film in the series and by far the most light-hearted of the three I’ve seen. I actually watched it out of sequence by mistake, Mr. Moto’s Gamble should have been next, but as there’s no character development through the series, and no recurring characters other than Moto, I doubt it matters.

Armand Assante is a pretty decent actor when given the chance. Unfortunately he rarely gets that chance and is more often to be seen in straight to video dross. Which brings us to Last Run…

I bought Last Run in one of W.H. Smiths online sales awhile back. What made me buy it? Simply that it was advertised on the site as The Last Run starring George C. Scott, a 1971 thriller directed by Richard Fleischer. “Wow!” though I “Didn’t know that was out, and at such a silly price too.” So I bought it but instead of Mr Scott I got dear old Armand through my letterbox, in one of his bargain bin masterpieces, because The Last Run isn’t actually out on DVD.

Now I know what you’re thinking – “Why didn’t you send it back?” The honest answer is I couldn’t be arsed, it was so cheap that parcelling it up and cuing at the Post Office…well it was just more trouble than it was worth. So I kept it and it sat there on my shelf gathering dust…until I decided to do a “season” of spy movies on Mine Was Taller.

Which brings us to last night when I decided to finally watch it. I picked it out of the other films I’ve got lined up for future I Spy’s based on a sure scientific formula…I was late getting home and it was short.