Not Available on VHS in the U.S.: Vigilante Force (1976, George Armitage)

The above artwork will look familiar to readers of this site.

For obsessive sorts like myself, it's interesting to note when a film has been released on home video in other regions of the world, but not in the U.S.  George Armitage's Vigilante Force is such a title.  It was never released on home video in the States until the recent MGM MOD DVD-R.  However, it was released by Warner Home Video in the U.K. in the early '80s, at a time when UA properties were distributed there by Warner.  Not sure why CBS / Fox (who handled UA titles Stateside, at the time) never released the title over here.  Aside from the colorful, pulpy key art (I own this obscure one-sheet) I like the prominent placement of the "paperclip" UA logo on the cover and spine, which I don't really recall on U.S. video covers, probably because of the MGM / UA merger.

TV Promo Not on the DVD: Dummy (1979, Frank Perry)

In the days long before premium outlets like HBO turned out acclaimed original series and feature-length films with top of the line talent, the major television networks produced well-made, provocative films; these television films sometimes lured artists from the ranks of feature film-making and often gave opportunity to up and coming actors.  The 1979 Frank Perry drama Dummy is an example of just such a television film.  It's a thoughtful, well-acted, engaging, and emotionally powerful piece.  I believe Dummy's release from the Warner Archive is the film's first appearance on home media and it's really a wonderful thing to have such a fine representation of Perry's work brought out from deep storage. 

Up until Dummy, Perry's career had largely played out on big screens; while he was very prolific from the late '60s until the mid-'70s, Dummy came after a four-year absence from film and television.  Perry's oeuvre of offbeat, singular films did not set box office records then and remain largely underrated now.  This is probably how he came to find himself back in the world of television (earlier, he and his former wife Eleanor adapted several Truman Capote stories for television).  Perry followed up Dummy with the Karl Malden pilot film Skag, before he moved into the second, far less successful feature film-making phase of his career (that said, 1980's Mommie Dearest would become a camp classic and box office hit).

Shaft scribe Ernest Tidyman's 1974 novel was the basis for the screenplay, also written by Tidyman.

Dummy is based on the groundbreaking case of deaf-mute Chicago man Donald Lang (LeVar Burton) who was accused of killing at least two prostitutes in the early 1970s.  Lang not only cannot hear or speak, but he is also unable to read, write, or communicate in sign language.  As an African-American child from a poor family in inner city Chicago, Lang was failed by the city's social services and education system, which did not provide him with adequate training or education, leading to his extremely impaired existence as an adult.  It is up to his dedicated deaf attorney Lowell Myers (Paul Sorvino) to ensure that the court system doesn't bury Lang's case and keep the young man locked up in a mental hospital indefinitely.  LeVar Burton became a star playing Kunta Kinte in the 1977 television phenomenon Roots and he capitalized on that fame with leading roles in a succession of made-for-television films including Dummy.

Burton's performance here is another in a line of "great silents"--that is, non-speaking roles in non-silent films.  Burton is an immensely likable personality and this likeability, combined with the actor's gift of communicating all manner of emotions through his face and body, makes for a very sympathetic character.  It may be that the filmmakers sometimes work a bit too hard to make Lang sympathetic at the expense of some of the real facts of the case--recounted in considerable detail in this interesting article from a Chicago cop's p.o.v.--which are either omitted or only referenced in the epilogue (Lang would later be implicated in more than one murder of a prostitute, though never found guilty), which to the film's credit is suitably disturbing and somewhat of a downer.  Expanding on this, there are some moments in key scenes that suggest ambiguity, casting some doubt on Lang's innocence and overall goodness.  The production must also be praised for working in some plot elements that were a bit adult and risque for network television at that time.  Perry's film takes to the grittier, more depressed areas of inner city Chicago, so it's apt that his production designer was Bill Cassidy who was coming off of Rocky, which took place in similarly rough parts of Philadelphia.  Cinematographer Gayne Rescher mixed features like A Face in the Crowd, Rachel, Rachel, A New Leaf, and Star Trek II with numerous television films, many of which utilized practical urban locations such as those found in Dummy.

As good as Burton is, it's Paul Sorvino who really blows me away in Dummy.  I don't recall ever hearing an actor so perfectly mimic the speech patterns of a deaf person.  I've seen Sorvino in numerous supporting roles, often in tough cop or gangster guises, but what a treat it is to see him in a leading role, in this case, a tireless force for justice who happens to be deaf.  In contrast to the pervasive Sorvino screen persona, Lowell Myers is not physically imposing or tough in a traditional sense, as I mentioned before, but he is smarter and more compassionate and, ultimately, tougher, than those around him, including his opponents in the courtroom.  He is never less than convincing as a person with a serious physical impairment and it's particularly wrenching when he reveals that he is losing his ability to speak clearly and, therefore, effectively be able to perform his duties as a lawyer.  For me the most fascinating aspects of this film, are not so much related to the criminal case per se, but the details related to the day-to-day aspects of being deaf and the distinctions made between those born deaf and those that lost hearing at a later point in life.  I also really like the relationship between Sorvino and Rose Gregorio, as the attorney's non-impaired sister who assists him in his casework.

As for those aforementioned up-and-coming actors, look for really good turns from Brian Dennehy as Donald's kind-hearted boss at the produce market and Gregg Henry as the priggish assistant DA; as much as that sounds like one-note role, Henry brings the same sort of humor, self-satisfaction, and smarminess to this role that he would several years later in De Palma's Body Double.

Check out this preview scene, one of the best in the film, which is a great showcase for both lead actors and also serves as an especially effective teaser for the some of the pleasures of Dummy described above:

Cry Rape (1973, Corey Allen)

Andrea Marcovicci takes the stand.

Long before the "Two Coreys" came along, Corey Allen (born Alan Cohen) made a name for himself in the prototype teen film Rebel Without a Cause (as James Dean nemesis Buzz Gundersen).  Nick Ray used him again in Party Girl and he acted throughout the '60s, mostly in television guest spots, but as the new decade dawned, Allen transitioned into a full-time, prolific directing career in episodic tv.  Between assignments for shows like Ironside, Cannon, and Hawaii Five-O, Allen directed the taut, standalone television drama Cry Rape.

Allen's cop show pedigree served him well for Cry Rape's very effective police procedural aspects.  40 years on, the film is a sometimes shocking reminder of the stigma attached to rape victims then and the casually insensitive behavior of the men investigating, prosecuting, and reporting these cases.  Newcomer Andrea Marcovicci is convincing as the victim who bravely comes forward to help prosecute her attacker (Peter Coffield).  She's particularly strong in her scenes with the callous officers who take her 911 call and the detectives investigating the case.  Coffield is superb in two roles: the working class delivery boy accused of a series of rapes and the lookalike true perpetrator of these crimes.  Coffield, an early AIDS casualty, with his good looks and Midwestern wholesomeness, is well cast; his clean-cut appearance and demeanor effectively contrast with the stereotypical image of a vicious criminal.  High marks also go to Greg Mullavey who has a grand old time with his role as the slick defense attorney concerned with maintaining his undefeated record.

Peter Coffield as a man born with the wrong face.

The last decade has been rightfully called a golden age for episodic television, with no shortage of compelling, challenging, and well-written dramas, but the '70s was the golden age for television films and Cry Rape is a prime example of this canon.  While the television code at the time limited what a filmmaker could portray and say in a prime-time program such as Cry Rape, particularly in comparison to what could fly in a feature film, Allen crafts a hard-hitting, unsentimental expose that sits pretty well with the uncompromising, audacious films coming out of Hollywood at the time.  Perhaps the best example of the film's exemplary storytelling technique is the opening scene.  For the pivotal home invasion and rape at the start of the film, Allen artfully uses close-ups of everyday household objects and sounds such as a ticking clock, in place of the actual act of violence (and in place of non-diegetic music) to depict the chaos, violence, and horror of the moment.  That the film manages to inject a little bit of ambiguity into the portrayal of Coffield's Andy Coleman (the wrongfully accused man) even though his innocence is seemingly cut-and-dried is a nice touch and a credit to both director and actor.

Corey Allen aka Alan Cohen (right).

For the cop movie / tv aficionados, the film features an expertly mounted, realistic foot chase between Coffield's perp and much older lead detective Joseph Sirola.  '70s film and tv aficionados should enjoy the presence of character players such as Anthony Costello (Marv Ellman in Night Moves), James Luisi (perennially a cop or a crook on many a show and film), and Howard Platt (who I remember especially as one of Lee Marvin's Chicago Irish mob cronies in Prime Cut).

Marcovicci is a renowned nightclub and Broadway singer.  She'll be celebrating her 65th birthday next month with performances at the famous Joe's Pub.

Post-Rebel Allen in "naturama." He is the young man with a knife being pressed to his chest.

I was pleasantly surprised to find Cry Rape appears in a clean, widescreen transfer on the Warner Archive MOD DVD-R release of the film, which is likely the first home media release of the film.  Since it was broadcast on television and presumably made for that format, I expected the DVD to reflect the standard 1.33:1 aspect ratio, but this disc is 1.78:1, which may mean that the film was originally shot with some theatrical projection in mind.  I'm not sure. 

In director mode.  1934 - 2010.

William Powell at Warner Bros.

While there are no stone classics in the Warner Archive's new William Powell at Warner Bros., it's a package that still manages to deliver a fair share of pleasures for fans of Powell, the pre-Code years, and the great supporting players of the early '30s Warner Bros. stable.  Powell was at Warner from '31 to '34 and made only 9 films at the studio.  This set collects 4: Alfred E. Green's The Road to Singapore, Mervyn LeRoy's High Pressure, Michael Curtiz' Private Detective 62, and Curtiz' The Key.  With this set, WAC has brought all of Powell's films made under contract at WB to DVD.

Journeyman director Green helmed over a 100 films from the teens to the '50s, none probably more potent than Baby Face, which may be the prototypical pre-Code film.  The Road to Singapore (1931) is decidedly more by-the-numbers, right down to the canned tribal drumbeat that can be heard in the background in so many jungle-set dramas of the period.  Here, Powell is a wealthy playboy who has scandalized his fellow Brit expats on a South Pacific isle by reveling in constant drink and debauchery.  He has a reputation as a home-wrecker, which he lives up to when he romances doctor's wife Doris Kenyon.  Her stiff husband is played by Louis Calhern, no stranger to snobbish, dastardly types, but usually they're a little smarter and more fun to watch than here.  As Calhern's barely legal sister, Marian Marsh has some good moments, as she deliberately tweaks her brother by flirting with Powell, and I found her more interesting than star Kenyon.  Even here, in this relatively early vehicle, Powell displays the seemingly effortless charm and debonair qualities that made him famous in the years to come, so much so that it makes it almost impossible to believe he would be so despised by those around him.  I count myself a fan of jungle-set films, particularly of this era, so the milieu alone makes the film worthwhile, but it in no way eclipses the likes of King Kong, The Most Dangerous Game, White Woman (oh, how I wish this would appear on DVD!), Bird of Paradise, Safe in Hell,  Kongo, The Letter, or Red Dust.

Before I leave The Road to Singapore, I must mention a particularly impressive, elaborate series of 3 shots, that occur about halfway through the film, as Powell and Kenyon stare out the windows of their homes in the general direction of the other.  It's a quiet scene, except for night sounds and the aforementioned drumbeat, and features what looks like a model of the island, but the edits are made discreetly to make it appear that the camera has traveled from one side of the island to other in one shot.

LeRoy's High Pressure (1932) is reminiscent of other Depression-conscious comedies made at the studio at the time, usually starring one James Francis Cagney.  In the Cagney role is Powell as a conman "promoter" prone to weekend-long benders after telling his girl (Evelyn Brent) he's only going out  for some Bromo-Seltzer and will be right back.  It's during one of these all-nighters that we meet Powell and it's quite a shock to see the suave Powell passed out and drunk as a skunk with a several days old beard.  He's rescued from this state by his pal (the ever-amazing Frank McHugh) and given a new client in George Sidney as a shyster Jew who is nothing in that category compared to Powell.  Sidney claims to have a formula from a scientist friend that can turn sewage into rubber for tires.  There's much of that wonderful, only-in-pre-Codes ethnic humor, which manages to be pretty equal opportunity for the most part and never really nasty (except perhaps when it comes to island natives; see: The Road to Singapore).  Brent is lacking in charm and spunk and it's hard to see why Powell falls to pieces whenever she walks out on him.  So often I find myself enchanted by the women in pre-Code films, particularly those who seem to have disappeared from screens by the end of the '30s (which seems to be most of these actresses save for Stanwyck, Davis, Crawford, and Colbert), but that wasn't the case for me with most of the female co-stars in these films, particularly Brent in High Pressure.

Evelyn Brent's scowl says it all.

Nothing here screams "classic" or "great," but I did find myself laughing pretty hard at Sidney's scenes, and a couple of moments that reach a certain level of wackiness and inappropriateness that borders on transgressive:
a) one of Powell's particularly animated salesmen nervously shakes his thighs as he works the phone; two young boys visiting the office, accidentally sit on his leg--which acts like a vibrating bed--and derive maybe a little too much pleasure from the experience.
b) the moment when the "mad scientist" (Harry Beresford) Powell and Sidney have been searching for reveals himself to be truly nuts.

Private Detective 62 (1933) may be my favorite of this bunch.  It's one of those tightly paced, sub-70 minute films, where "a lot" has happened and you're shocked to find that only 20 minutes have elapsed.  Powell is a government secret agent abandoned in France by his superiors when his mission fails.  Through derring-do and quick thinking, Powell finds himself free (he's aptly named Free) from the French and partnered up in a private detective firm with Arthur Hohl, fast becoming one of my favorite of the Warner character players of this era.  Margaret Lindsay, as a socialite who keeps winning big money at gangster Gordon Wescott's casino, much to his chagrin, is Powell's best female screen partner in this collection (and probably his best at WB after Kay Francis).  This film is the most ideal fit for Powell's persona and skills in this box set and it comes highly recommended.  For those, like me, who find themselves tallying those elements in a pre-Code film that would soon be outlawed by the Production Code, look no further than James Bell's "Whitey," referred to in the film as a "snowbird" and "hop head" and told at one point to stay off the "white stuff" or something to that effect.

Curtiz' The Key (1934) is right behind Private Detective 62 in order of preference for me, even though I think Powell is probably miscast here and almost appears to be in a different film from his British costars Colin Clive and Edna Best.  Clive is, of course, best known for his histrionic performances in the James Whale's Frankenstein films, but I'm most impressed by his work here and in Whale's hard-to-find One More River.  This is mostly a serious, provocative drama about British military efforts (of which Powell and Clive are a part) to put down Sinn Fein insurgents in 1920 Dublin; Powell and Clive also happen to love the same woman--Clive's wife (Best).  Clive and Best's scenes have a weightiness and emotional intensity that is ineffectively contrasted by Powell's lightheartedness and devil may care attitude, out of place in the face of all this bloodshed and uprising.  It's perfectly suited for material like High Pressure, but not this.  I don't know that anyone would think of Powell as a soldier of fortune, but that's what he is here.  So, The Key is something of a schizophrenic film, the part with the star (Powell) is ill-conceived, but the stuff with his co-stars is really quite potent, particularly for those viewers who enjoyed the deeply felt drama of Wellman's Other Men's Women, for instance.  As for WB contract players here, Hobart Cavanaugh is highly billed, but under utilized.

Margaret Lindsay is tops among Powell's women in William Powell at Warner Bros.

We get trailers and perfectly watchable prints on these discs.  Like many heretofore hard-to-track-down movies that have been "rescued" by the Warner Archive, they look particularly fine when compared to those ropey copies that floated around for years beforehand.

Dirty Old New York aka Fun City, Part IV

Part IV.  Baseball, punk vs. disco, Travolta vs. Gere, Blaxploitation, teen romance, goofball cops, crooked cops, fake cops, Gordon Parks movies, Gordon Parks Jr. movies, Joe Spinell, and a whole lot more...

Dirty Old New York aka Fun City, Part IV from Jonathan Hertzberg on Vimeo.

Fifth and final installment (for sure, this time) to follow.

The opening logo card is the 1976 Columbia Pictures logo (with Suzanne Ciani theme music).

The Baby Maker (1970, James Bridges)

It's unfortunate that Barbara Hershey's early career was dogged by bad publicity relating to her free-spirited ways and temporary name change to Barbara Seagull because it overshadowed her fine, early-career work in films such as Frank Perry's Last Summer, Paul Williams' Dealing, and James Bridges' The Baby Maker.  If and when the Warner Archive is able to locate the elements to properly restore Last Summer, they will have nearly cornered the market on the early feature films of Hershey, as they have already released the aforementioned Dealing and The Baby Maker, as well as Lee H. Katzin's Heaven With a Gun (Hershey's feature debut).

 
With that out of the way, I'd like to delve a little more into Bridges' The Baby Maker, as I'm a longtime admirer of this filmmaker and I've only recently--finally--caught up with, this, his first feature film.  In the title role is Hershey, playing a sweet-natured college dropout happily living in free love squalor with her layabout, aspiring leather craftsman boyfriend (a very young Scott Glenn in his feature debut)--what Peter Boyle's Joe would disdainfully refer to as "HIPPIES!"--in a ramshackle Santa Monica (I believe) apartment / storefront.  Hershey's Tish is matched up by elderly fixer Mrs. Culnick (Lili Valenty) with square, upper-middle class couple Suzanne and Jay Wilcox (Collin Wilcox and Sam Groom) to carry Jay's baby.  What could easily come off exploitative and sleazy, is instead handled with a lot of sensitivity and nuance. 

The then-new concept of surrogate motherhood is no longer envelope-pushing, nor does the suburbanite vs. hippie dynamic carry the same weight, but these aspects are still fascinating to me in an anthropological sort of way.  Unlike, say, Clint Eastwood's Breezy, though, Bridges' portrayal of the youth culture feels more knowing and even-handed.  More importantly, in spite of these dated elements, Bridges' story, characters, sense of place, and knack for convincingly realistic depictions of SoCal folk remain in full force over 40 years later.  Tish's maturation, her growing bond with Suzanne and Jay, and her burgeoning personal strength...the way these things were portrayed by Hershey and Bridges was incredibly moving to me.  Forgive the hyperbole, but Hershey is incandescent here.  It's a great, unsung performance.  We've seen many birth scenes dramatized over the years, but I can't recall an actress so convincingly portraying the pain of childbirth and truly putting aside personal vanity, as Hershey does here.  This is the first of Bridges' progressively-conceived and well-written female leads, followed by the likes of Jane Fonda in The China Syndrome, Debra Winger in Mike's Murder, and Jamie Lee Curtis in Perfect.

Now, after I've just listed Tish as one of Bridges' strong female characters, I'll take a step backward for a moment to comment on just how naturally beautiful Hershey is in this film...it's enough to make me genuinely sad that it was Hershey who would be credited with the collagen implant craze, when she had her lips injected for Beaches.

The rest of the cast is superb as well, with Groom and the late Wilcox (who also appeared in Bridges' September 30, 1955) registering quite strongly after they initially appear as stiff as their characters, but it's due to their abilities and Bridges' tendency to dispel stereotypes, that they emerge well-rounded and quite sympathetic.

Bridges deserves credit for unearthing Glenn, who appears startlingly young and beautiful here, for this, his actual film debut, and then--years later--when Glenn emerged from a two-year hiatus from Hollywood in Bridges' Urban Cowboy, the "debut" of the second, more fruitful part of his onscreen career.  Glenn is alternately charming and abhorrent as Tad, reflecting the oft-mentioned (by me, anyway) New American Cinema brand of realism and honesty...may it rest in peace.

Glenn and Hershey hang out on Santa Monica Pier years before Hershey's harrowing moments there with Michael Douglas in Falling Down.

Some other noteworthy Bridges-ian things that I liked in The Baby Maker:

* Valenty's Mrs. Culnick, an elderly, wealthy, and forward-thinking mother figure of unsaid European (possibly Jewish) origin who lives alone in a fancy house in the hills and has connections with the hippie counterculture.  It is through Tish's radical friend Charlotte (Jeannie Berlin) that Mrs. Culnick meets Tish.  Seeing the underclass Tish visit Mrs. Culnick's posh house high above the city is reminiscent of underclass Mike sleeping at motherly music producer Paul Winfield's mountaintop manse in Bridges' Mike's Murder.  Like Winfield's character (based on Winfield himself), I suspect Mrs. Culnick is also based on someone Bridges knew in real life.

* The experimental movie and flashing light-watching party attended by Tish, Tad, and assorted other riffraff, which is like the 1970 equivalent of the punk / New Wave performance art party put on by Richard (Dan Shor) in Mike's Murder.

Odds and Ends:

*Part of the aforementioned "anthropological" stuff: I really enjoyed and must mention the scenes with Berlin's Charlotte and her fellow commune dwellers, particularly the piece of agitprop anti-gun public theater that they stage outside of a toy store.

*It's been awhile since I've watched Cisco Pike with Kristoffersen, Hackman, and Black, but, as I recall it, Kris and Karen's Venice Beach grungy abode reminds me of Scott and Barbara's pad.  There's lot of interesting-looking locations in The Baby Maker, something Angelinos should have a fun time spotting and ID'ing, which I can't do with any authority, being a New Yorker.

*'70s Hollywood aficionados will appreciate the appearance of Helena Kallianotes, belly dancer (which she demonstrates in The Baby Maker) and sometime actress.  She's in the famed diner scene in Five Easy Pieces, William Castle's Shanks, Rafelson's Stay Hungry and Head, and a few others.

*Future Motel Hell and CHiPs co-star Paul Linke appears in a couple of amusing scenes as one of Glenn's whacked-out pals.

Befitting its low-budget origins with another studio (National General), it's unsurprising that the Warner Archive's no-frills DVD-R comes from an un-restored, aged source.  Almost looks like a release print, but I couldn't say anything definitively, of course.  It's in the correct OAR, which is good, and, frankly, I'm surprised this (unjustly) forgotten, low-profile film came so early in the Warner Archive timeline.  If not one of the initial releases of the label in March 2009, it's close.  Again, due to its non-WB origins, it's not surprising, though no less disappointing, that there is no original theatrical trailer attached to this DVD-R.  Overall, though, The Baby Maker is firmly in my wheelhouse so I hope some others check this disc out.  Now, someone please get that Bridges retrospective off the ground!