Guest Review – A Day in the Life of Dennis O’Keefe: Raw Deal (1948), The Fake (1953) and The Diamond Wizard (1954)

By Philip Schweier

Over the Memorial Day weekend, I took the time to watch a trio of crime thrillers, all starring Dennis O’Keefe. O’Keefe was a minor leading man in Hollywood who started out as an extra in the early days of talkies. He climbed through the ranks, also appearing on radio, and transitioned into television in the 1950s and ‘60s.

First of the films that I watched was Raw Deal (1948), in which he co-starred with Claire Trevor. O’Keefe plays Joe Sullivan, serving a stretch in prison on behalf of crime boss Rick Coyle (Raymond Burr). Coyle arranges to bust Joe out, but only in the hope that Joe gets gunned down by the authorities. Joe’s girl, Pat Cameron (Trevor), is waiting with the getaway car ready. With the cops hot on their heels, Joe and Pat head to the apartment of Ann Martin (Marsha Hunt), who works for the law firm working on Joe’s release. It seems Ann has developed a bit of a crush, and Joe intends to use it as leverage for help in getting out of town.

Traveling with two women enables Joe to squeak past the law and head for Crescent City, where he expects to meet up with Coyle, receive $50,000 that he’s owed, and head to South America. But Pat quickly notices Anne’s growing attachment, and begins to wonder how loyal her criminal boyfriend really is.

The film features a number of narrow brushes with the law, as well as a young Whit Bissel as the subject of a separate manhunt. Realizing he’s been betrayed, Joe decides to settle his score with Coyle before leaving the country.

Raymond Burr plays the part of crime boss Coyle to perfection. His sadistic nature slowly gives way to growing paranoia, as he fears Joe come gunning for him. Between Coyle’s growing anxiety, and Pat’s increasing jealousy, the film is an emotional thriller leading the audience to wonder how matters will eventually resolve themselves.

In The Fake (1953), O’Keefe is on the right side of the law, playing insurance investigator Paul Mitchell, who has been assigned to protect a masterpiece of art by da Vinci while it is on loan to London’s Tate Gallery. There, he meets Mary Mason (Coleen Gray), the daughter of an impoverished painter.

The da Vinci is under scrutiny due to the thefts of two other paintings, both of which were replaced by forgeries. Mitchell follows one lead after another as attempts are made to steal the da Vinci, beginning at its arrival in England. Meanwhile, he also continues to pursue Mary Mason. This romantic endeavor that is complicated when it appears her father may be involved in the art thefts.

As capers go, it’s enjoyable without trying too hard to be more than it is. It hardly ranks high on anyone’s list of mysteries, especially when one stunningly obvious clue seems to escape the notice of Mitchell and his cohorts. But it benefits from having been filmed on location in London at the Tate Gallery. Also, segments of Mussorgsky's “Pictures At An Exhibition" are used for the musical score, providing not only irony but a cheap source for music cues.

O’Keefe is once again in jolly old England for The Diamond Wizard (1954), this time as U.S. Treasury Agent Joe Dennison. He’s trailed a gang of thieves who’ve stolen a million dollars from a U.S. Treasury vault. Upon arrival, he discovers his case intersects with that of Scotland Yard Inspector McClaren (Philip Friend), who is investigating the disappearance of Dr. Eric Miller (Paul Hardtmuth), an atomic scientist. They compare notes, and Dennison discovers Miller has secretly been creating bogus diamonds, either willingly or under coercion. Their combined investigation evolves into a police procedural, as Dennison adapts his American methods to British sensibilities, while he and McClaren compete for the affections of Dr. Miller’s daughter, Marline (Margaret Sheridan).

Both The Fake and The Diamond Wizard were produced by British studios (Pax Films and Gibraltar Films, respectively), though perhaps due to its American leads, they have a more American tone. According to the IMDB, O’Keefe is credited as co-director on the Diamond Wizard, and co-authored the script under the pen-name Jonathan Rix.

While none of O’Keefe’s films stand out as exceptional thrillers or film noir, they’re pleasant diversions for those that haven’t seen them before.

Doris Day(s) #34: “The Health King” (11/10/69, prod. no #0411)

I thought, at first, that I would be a bit shame-faced returning to the regular Thrilling Days of Yesteryear feature Doris Day(s)…because since there’s been a noticeable lull between this entry and the last one (near the beginning of January), the TDOY faithful could make a persuasive case that the feature can hardly be called “regular.”  I take full responsibility for this; granted, I have had other outside assignments competing for my time but I also succumbed to the seductive charms of Netflix in the interim.  I signed up for a free trial period about that same time…and became so enamored of it that I subconsciously forgot to bail when the trial ended, inadvertently ponying up for another month.  Suffice it to say, I have nipped that foolishness in the bud.  I cancelled the membership Saturday, and from now on will make a concerted effort to provide you with the top-quality material you’ve come to expect at TDOY, he said, covering his face with his hand so that you won’t notice I cannot say that without laughing.

Oh, and let me also put to rest the whisper campaign on Facebook that I “misplaced” the Doris Day Show DVD in an effort to keep from having to continue our weekly trips to Dodo’s world.  (The quotes around “misplaced” are courtesy of Facebook chum Andrew “Grover” Leal, by the way.)  The DVDs are intact and in fact, I made sure I put them in a place where I’d least be likely to lose them.  (Okay, wisenheimers—whoever said “So they’re not in your room?” stays behind to clap erasers.)  Still, after watching this week’s episode, I could scarcely be blamed for entertaining such thoughts: “The Health King” is just plain horrible, as is the installment that’s next on the calendar, “Doris the Model.”  I will need to summon forth all my mockery powers to get through “King,” though I will warn you right now it will be a short entry because…well, I’m only human after all.

As the curtain rises on Act One, we find ourselves in the familiar environs of Doris’ office at Today’s World (The NOW Magazine), where she is engaged in the usual chitty-chat with her pal Myrna Gibbons (Rose Marie):

MYRNA: …oh, but then on the other hand—I guess Sidney isn’t so bad to go out with…I just wish he weren’t so stingy, that’s all…

DORIS: A little close with the buck, huh?

MYRNA: Close? Heh…every time he takes his mother out to dinner on Mother’s Day they go Dutch treat…

Yes, that’s one of the many comedic highlights of this episode.  (And there’s no escape now.)  The comedy think tank is broken up by Doris’ boss, Michael “Nick” Nicholson (McLean Stevenson), whose entry into her domain usually results in Myrna’s scattering back to her desk with a lame excuse: “Uh…I’ll make three copies and get this right back to you, Doris.”  Both Doris and Nick exchange knowing looks, realizing that if the Internet had been around at that time, Myrna would spend most of her workday monitoring eBay auctions.  Nick then summons his assistant into the Today’s World inner sanctum: his office.

NICK: Now, Doris—you know the problem I’m having making a deal with Bruce Sanders…

DORIS: Oh…yes, sir…I do know…he’s really playing hard to get, isn’t he?

NICK: Right…I can’t even get to meet the guy!

DORIS: The least he could do is answer your phone calls…

NICK: Exactly—that’s why I think it needs direct, positive action…

DORIS: Oh, I do, too…are you going to see him personally, sir?

NICK: No…you are…

Yes, that’s right—Nick has decided to pimp his secretary out to ensure the content in next month’s issue of The NOW Magazine isn’t painfully thin.  Doris is naturally a bit flustered by all this, falling back on the “I’m just a secretary” defense (“I couldn’t possibly approach him and negotiate with him on account on my insignificant ladybrain!”)—forgetting, of course, that in the first season episode “The Job” she was chatting it up with U.S. Senators and writing articles by her lonesome.

NICK: You’re more than a secretary…why, I’ve often thought of you as executive material!  Let’s say this first assignment is your first step up the ladder…

Watch out for that glass ceiling, though, Dor.

DORIS: Oh…uh…I appreciate stepping up the ladder, sir…I really do…but I don’t think…

NICK: Doris…this is very important to the magazine…if we can get the rights to serialize his book it will be a feather in my cap… (Pause) And yours, too!

Doris is uncertain what she should say to Sanders, so Nick tells her to use plenty of the old soft soap.  Nick then gives her directions to Sanders’ apartment at the “Crestview Arms,” which causes our heroine even more consternation:

DORIS: I have to go to his apartment?!!

NICK: Don’t worry!  Look, this guy is probably too busy building up his own body to pay any attention to yours…

And that’s the guy you were pretend-married to, kiddo.  But Nick isn’t too far off the mark on that observation.  There’s a dissolve between the author’s picture on the back of the book to this shot of same admiring himself in the mirror:

This week’s guest is actor Michael Forest, whose classic movie and TV resume is rather extensive; the former amateur boxer guest-starred on such western series as Have Gun—Will Travel, Maverick, Cheyenne, Laramie, Gunsmoke, Rawhide, The Virginian, Bonanza…and on and on and on.  You might recognize him as the actor who played “Apollo” in the classic Star Trek episode “Who Mourns for Adonis?”…but here at Rancho Yesteryear, we’ve always enjoyed Michael’s turn in The Dick Van Dyke Show installment “The Life and Love of Joe Coogan.”  (“Where’s this tall, good-looking PRIEST you wanted me to meet?”)  We also revere Forest for the many times he worked with TDOY idol Roger Corman (The Saga of the Viking Women and Their Voyage to the Waters of the Great Sea Serpent, Beast from Haunted Cave, Atlas); he’s still with us (he’ll turn 86 in April) and is known primarily these days as a vocal actor in many European animated films.

Sanders hollers at his houseboy Ling to answer the doorbell—Ling is played by character actor Ernest Harada, who’s fondly remembered around these parts as drug lord Chung Mee (“We must all do what we must do, for if we do not, then what we must do does not get done.”) in the 1985 Tom Hanks-John Candy comedy Volunteers.  (A film that, admittedly, is an acquired taste for some…but I truly think it’s one of the funniest things Hanks has done—“It's not that I can't help these people…It's just I don't want to.”)  Ling lets Doris in, and we’re subjected to several minutes of Dodo trying to run the whole Today’s World article up the flagpole to see if Bruce salutes…while he’s busy lifting weights, jumping rope, working out on the punching bag/parallel bars, etc.  You know—the sort of physical stuff that doesn’t lend itself to good screencaps.  So we’ll fast-forward on all this: Bruce invites Doris for a nosh at Daley’s Health Food Store and Restaurant, since he’ll be there to sign copies of his book.

At Daley’s Doris and Bruce are served two heaping portions of a “cabbage juice cocktail” by Mary, a waitress played by Lavina Dawson (it’s a little hard to tell from the above screencap).  Dawson, of course, appeared in two episodes of Mayberry R.F.D. that I covered previously on the blog: “Sensitivity Training” and “The Harp.”

BRUCE (hoisting his glass): To your health…

DORIS: Thank you…

Whoooooooaaaaaa…that’s good cabbage juice!  Then Mary brings the main course.

DORIS: What is that?

BRUCE: Kelp salads!

DORIS: Kelp?

BRUCE: Seaweed—it’s just bursting with vitamins!

As Doris picks at her salad, you can hear a slow, comical version of I’m Popeye the Sailor Man on the soundtrack that’s good for a snicker.  Any time I see “health food” used as a comic device in these old TV programs I always think of the two scientists in Woody Allen’s Sleeper (1973): “Those are the charmed substances that some years ago were thought to contain life-preserving properties.”

BRUCE: Don’t you just feel the energy surging through your body?

DORIS: I definitely feel something surging…

Doris attempts to swing the topic of conversation back to Sanders’ giving the okay for his book to be published in Today’s World, but she’s interrupted by one of Bruce’s fans (Joan Lemmo), who asks if he would be so kind as to autograph her copy of his book.  This works out swell for Dor, since she’s able to dump half of her revolting salad onto a nearby busboy’s tray while Sanders signs his John Hancock (“To Gladys: may you and your vital organs fine true health and happiness through this book…affectionately, Bruce”).  A second Bruce groupie, Harriet (Bunny Summers), also asks for an autograph…and that allows Doris to “finish” her kelp.

HARRIET: Excuse me, Mr. Sanders…but may I ask you a very intimate question please?

BRUCE: For you…anything…

HARRIET: Is an occasional touch of sherry permissible…if a body doesn’t overdo it?

BRUCE: Spirits of any kind are injurious to the liver…

HARRIET: Oh, dear…I was afraid of that…

“There go my Sunday afternoons!” Harriet laments to Doris as she takes her leave of both of them.  After she vamooses, Bruce posits that he and Doris aren’t getting anywhere discussing business at the health food joint, and so he invites her over to his place for dinner—presumably for a light repast of wheat germ, organic honey and tiger's milk.  Doris is hesitant…but when Sanders points out that it will present an excellent opportunity to discuss his book, she reluctantly agrees to take one for the Today’s World team.  Bruce also notices that Doris sucked down that salad awfully fast.

DORIS: Oh, I told you I loved it—I’m a kelp fan!

BRUCE: Oh!  Well, I shouldn’t have ordered you such a small one—Mary!  Another kelp salad for the lady!

Cue the sad trombone!  Back in the office, Doris is dealing with an oopsy tummy due to her kelp lunch.

MYRNA: Ugh…Jane…what happened to you and Tarzan?

DORIS: Tarzan took Jane to lunch… (Lucy-like gobloots sound)

MYRNA: Which tree?

DORIS: Daley’s Health Food Store and Restaurant… (Nodding toward a plant) See that?

MYRNA: Huh?

DORIS: It’s better than what I ate…

Nick enters the office, and that’s Myrna’s cue to make herself scarce (“I’ll be changing the circulation reports just as soon as Mr. Harvey gets through with them!”).  Nick needs a status report, and Doris explains that talking to Bruce is simply one-sided conversation—“I talked and he flexed.”  But Nick is very pleased about Doris’ dinner plans with the client, even though Doris thinks Bruce “is a little bit crazy.”

The scene shifts to Doris’ arrival at Casa del Sanders.  She is dressed to the nines, and discovers to her delight that she’s not going to have to eat any of that health food crap; Bruce has struck up the soft lights and music, and he even offers her a martini.  (So much for injurious livers.)

The next morning, Nick arrives at work…and naturally, he expects to hear how horrible his assistant’s evening was—but with a signed contract for the rights to Sanders’ book.

NICK: Look—I know it must have been a pretty rotten evening…but what about the deal?

DORIS: The deal?

NICK: Yes!  (Pause) Is that a look of shock or indigestion? (Silence) Let me guess…he wore a sweat suit…and he offered you the juice of a freshly squeezed kumquat…and spent the rest of the evening showing you clippings from his muscle beach contests…

DORIS (sing-songy): No, he didn’t…Mr. Nicholson, I had a fabulous evening…I really did…

Doris goes on to gush that the two of them had the best dinner (French wine!), and that they danced under the stars on the terrace of his man-cave.  Awww! Dor’s in love!  Strangely, Nick seems a bit put-out by this (well, what do you expect when you want your secretary to be a whore, Michael?).

NICK: Well, then you must have made some real progress…

DORIS: Oh, we did… (Stammering) Oh…y-y-you mean the offer!  Oh…well…we never got around to talking business…

“We were too busy takin’ care of business…amirite?”  Doris has realized that Bruce may be a musclebound douchebag, but he’s also a guy what digs poetry and music and philosophy and all that romantic jazz.  She also wants to take a couple of hours off early from work—but to go jogging in the park with Brucie, and not that kind of thing the Starland Vocal Band had a big hit about.  “I mean—you did say I should follow through on the deal,” she explains.  As the first act of our cautionary drama comes to an end, please permit us to pause until the next paragraph.

The Health King—Part the Second.  Nick enters Doris’ office with a request…and finds her visiting with none other than Bruce.  Doris makes the necessary introductions.

NICK: Well…we finally meet…hi…

BRUCE: Hi!  (The two of them shake hands) Are you left-handed?

NICK: No…

BRUCE: That’s funny…with a weak right-handed grip like that…you sure you’re not left-handed?

No…he’s just a girly man who desperately needs for you to pump (clap) him up.   “Mr. Nicholson’s the wiry type, Bruce,” alibis Doris.  But after giving Nicholson a quick frisk, Sanders observes that Nick “could use a little bodybuilding.”

NICK: Thank you…my body and I get along just fine…

DORIS: Mr. Nicholson’s in much better shape than he looks!

“Well—he’d almost have to be!”  You’ve already deduced where the rest of the episode is headed, and it should explain why I’ve put off writing about it for two months; discussing a big swinging dick contest is really not one of my favorite things when it comes to The Doris Day Show.  Nick invites himself along on Doris and Bruce’s afternoon jogging excursion…

…and demonstrates that fine physical condition that he’s in even if you can’t tell by looking at him.

NICK (panting): I’m just…waiting for my second wind…

DORIS: Oh…

NICK: Look, you…two run along and I’ll catch up…

BRUCE (while jogging in place): You know, you should really give up smoking…

NICK: I don’t smoke…

BRUCE: Oh, you don’t?  That’s a shame…it might help if you had smoking to give up…

Doris tactfully suggests that Nicholson go back to the office, but Nick is insistent on maintaining this charade—noticing that they passed a bicycle rental place during their jog, he suggests they ride bikes instead!  That seems amenable to Doris, and Bruce does a nice bit of comic business where he lifts Nick off the bench on which he was sitting and starts carrying him in the direction of the bike rental.

Sadly, Nick is not any more proficient at pedaling than he is at trotting…but he does do a bit of that nice physical comedy that would later become his specialty on M*A*S*H:

A quick cut to Nicholson’s office, where Nick learns that Doris is seeing Bruce again…and he’s not happy, though it’s difficult to tell where it’s due to feelings for his secretary or whether he sees himself as a surrogate father (he often refers to Doris’ dad Buck [Denver Pyle] as “grandfather,” which is a bit of a tell).

NICK: Well, where are you going?

DORIS: To the theatre…and to a discotheque on the Bay…

NICK: Well, you’re going to be up awfully late—aren’t you?

DORIS: That’s all right…because I’m staying in town…

NICK: In town?

DORIS: At Myrna’s!  That way I don’t have to drive home…

Nick is not down with this at all—again, keep in mind he’s the one who originally wanted Doris to tempt Bruce with her feminine wiles—and he tells her he’ll give her one more chance to seal the publication deal.  (He also tells her to be “careful”…though he amends that to being careful not to get her feet wet, since rain is in the forecast.)  There’s then a cut to Myrna, as she prepares her beauty regimen before she goes to sleep…and her telephone rings—it’s Nick on the other end.

MYRNA: Anything wrong, Mr. Nicholson?

NICK: No…no…I was just wondering…is Doris back at your place?

MYRNA: No…not yet…I guess she’s still out with the body beautiful…any message?

Nick tells Myrna it’s nothing important…and asks her not to let Dor know he called.  Meanwhile, back at Casa del Bruce—Sanders and Doris enter his apartment soaked to their panties due to that rain Nicholson mentioned earlier.  Sanders suggests she get out of those wet clothes (and into a dry martini), and proffers the use of one of his many, many bathrobes while her clothes are drying.  Doris is concerned by this—it’s late, and she really needs to head back to Myrna’s—but he’s concerned about her “catching her death of cold.”  “In the meantime,” he tells her, “I’ll fix you something deliciously medicinal to save you from double pneumonia.”  (Unless it comes from a keg around a St. Bernard’s neck…I don’t want it.)

The phone rings again at Myrna’s.

NICK: This is Mr. Nicholson again…I hope I didn’t wake you…

MYRNA: No…no…I had to get up and answer the phone anyway…

If I had a nickel for every time I used that line, I could retire from the blogging business.   Doris still isn’t at Myrna’s, and it’s two-thirty in the a.m.—which makes even the jaded Myrna a bit concerned about her pal.  (“How do you like that—here I am acting like a mother and I ain’t even married yet!” she wails.)  Nicholson tries to put on the brave face that he’s not worried about Doris, but then he decides to call Bruce’s apartment…and Doris happens to pick up.

Nick slams the phone down, and heads over to Sanders’ bachelor pad with blood in his eye…unaware that it’s all so innocent between Dor and Brucie, and what’s more—Sanders is going to let the magazine publish his book in the form of serialized articles.  Nick bursts into the apartment (soaking wet), and starts ineffectually punching Bruce’s manly physique.  Doris tells her idiot boss that Bruce has agreed to let them use the book.  (Bruce: “Yes—if you just stop hitting me for a minute we’ll shake on it!”)  They do, and of course Bruce turns Nicholson’s right hand into a collection of broken bones from the handshake.

Which leads to the episode’s punchline: Myrna brings in a tray of soup and other lunch-like items, and Doris takes it from her into Nicholson’s office.  She then begins to spoon-feed him because this:

Oh, someone hand me a needle and thread…I think my sides have split.  Next time, on Doris Day(s): a most worthy nominee for one of the series’ worst episodes…and the insane thing is, they went to this well not once but twice during the program’s five-year-run.  It’s the too-execrable-for-words “Doris the Model,” and if I haven’t scared you away already I cordially invite you to join me.

Rethink unpossible

As you’ve no doubt noticed, there are quite a few old newspapers piled up in the driveway of the blog…and while I have been occupied with an outside project or two, the inactivity is due mainly to sloth, which may very well be my favorite of the Seven Deadly Sins.  Okay, maybe I’m being a little harsh on myself.  I’ve written a piece or two at the Radio Spirits blog—commemorating the anniversaries of Night Beat and The Adventures of Superman—and that review of Without Warning! (1952) I alluded to in my last post is now up at ClassicFlix…though this is cheating a bit; I wrote that last year.

I’ve not been idle in the movie-watching department, however; I took advantage of the Netflix trial period to catch two documentaries that I had read about in past reviews and mentally attached to my “must-see” list.  Ken Burns’ The Central Park Five (2012) was most assuredly time well-spent (my father had a dissenting opinion, and rose from his recliner about a half-hour into the movie), but I can’t say the same for Room 237 (2012)—a quirky offering that reads entirely too much into Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980) (one individual posits that Shining is an allegory about the genocide of Native Americans while another argues that it’s an admission that Kubrick faked the moon landing for the television audience back in 1969).  I probably would have enjoyed 237 more if I had a higher opinion of Shining, whose cult has eluded me ever since I saw it back in the day.  I also watched a couple of movies that I DVR’d during a free Showtime weekend: Lee Daniels’ The Butler (2013) features a performance from Forest Whitaker that surpasses his Oscar-winning turn in The Last King of Scotland (2006) (seriously, he’s first-rate…but the film itself has problems).  I was also amazed at how much I enjoyed Philomena (2013), which I didn’t think I would but I identified most strongly with Steve Coogan’s atheist journalist, who lends a helping hand to a woman (Judi Dench) who had her son stolen from the nuns at the convent in which she was placed after her teen pregnancy.  (I recorded this one for Mom, who’s quite the fan of Dame Judi; she loved it, and even my Dad stuck around for it.)

In the classic movie arena on Netflix, I got to see Raw Deal (1948) in its entirety; the first time I watched it back in the 90s I dozed off a couple of times due to lack of rest.  (Sensational noir with TDOY faves Claire Trevor and Marsha Hunt.)  I also enjoyed The River’s Edge (1957), which a couple of folks recommended to me via Facebook after I posted a link to a Salon.com article about the other River’s Edge (from 1986), which I revisited at about the same time (DVR’d it from the MGM HD channel).  The 1957 Edge features Ray Milland at his nastiest, though I was so underwhelmed by Anthony Quinn I was kind of hoping sexy red-headed Debra Paget would wind up with Ray.  (I always forget Paget is in House of Strangers, which I caught on Fox Movie Channel this morning.)   The bulk of the classic movies I’ve caught lately emanates (of course) via The Greatest Cable Channel Known to Mankind™, where I’ve been in the throes of a mini-John Barrymore festival with viewings of Svengali (1931), The Mad Genius (1931) and Counsellor at Law (1933; this one is a piperoo).  I’ve been trying to “clean up” the DVR of late; I caught Doubt (2008) courtesy of TCM (good performances but I wanted to hit Meryl Streep’s nun with a ruler) and Todd Haynes’ Douglas Sirk homage Far From Heaven (2002) via Cinemax (another movie that I thought would be cinematic vegetable but instead was a most gratifying experience).

I also mentioned in the last blog post a bit o’trouble with the AT&T U-Verse people.  We signed up with U-Verse in mid-January of 2014, and both Los Parentes Yesteryear and I knew that when our year was up, the amount of money we generously give them each month to maintain contact with the outside world would increase…so I called U-Verse to see if I could do a little shrewd horse trading.  AT&T and other cable-like folks really don’t want you to leave; when you call them and state “We’re going to cancel our service” they immediately transfer you to what they call a “retention specialist,” who’s prepared to do whatever it takes to keep you doing bidness with them.  Mostly lying their asses off.  (Oh, I forgot to explain this to Mom the day I called U-Verse, by the way; I thought she was going to have a heart attack when I said “We’re going to cancel our service.”)

The U-Verse rep explains to me that if we agree to take on their U-Voice service for a year we could expect to be paying roughly the same monthly rate for TV and Internet.  Truth be told, I wasn’t particularly wild about doing this—we use Magic Jack as our phone service (and you don’t even want to get me started on that, or we’ll be here for a lifetime)—but Mom had made it clear that it was either re-negotiate or go back to Charter.  (Talk about being in Hell with your back broken.)  So, under the auspices of it being a “second emergency landline” (the rep’s phrase—not mine) I agree to the deal, and ask how much effort it will take to get this set up.  No problemo, he says in his faux Spanish—all I have to do is plug our phone into the phone jack of the U-Verse modem the following day.

I’m sure once I got off the phone with this mook he and his fellow retention specialists had a hearty guffaw at my expense…because when I followed the instructions he gave me the set-up refused to work, and so I had to call Customer Service to find out what the hell was going on.  That is when I learned that the order to start the U-Voice had been bumped up to January 22 (I made the call on the 16th)…and what’s more, I would have to wait until U-Verse sends me another modem via UPS.  (The modem we had was, I thought, perfectly fine…but they argued we need one with a battery backup.)  The January 22 deadline came and went, and was then bumped up to the 26th.  February 7 was the next date after the 26th had passed.

In the meantime, because we’ve not started the U-Voice, the amount of our service soars to a level that generates much profanity from Ma and Pa Shreve.  I had been proactive in watching the bill online to see if it would change, and when it did I spoke to another service rep, who assured me we would not see this amount on the paper statement they send us.  Well, he lied.  He lied a lot.  (That’s where the parental swearing came into play.)  After I got the bill, I called U-Verse and spoke with a woman who told me that this was the amount we would be paying from now on.  Then I started swearing, and asked to speak to a supervisor to straighten things out.

As of this post, we have received the modem; I was able to connect it with little trouble (well, except I had to reset the wireless connection—that was a small pain in the tuchus) and in AT&T’s favor, sending them the modem back isn’t too difficult—you just drop it off at a UPS store, fill out a metric ton of paperwork, and they box it up for you.  But the U-Verse experience left a sour taste in our collective mouths here at Rancho Yesteryear; Mom has already said we’re crawling back to Charter next year, something I thought I’d never hear from her.

I saw this article at Raw Story, Salon and a few other places (it was originally published at Alternet)—it explains why the cable industry is so horrible (they single out Bombast Comcast, a company so loathsome they’ve started to refer to themselves as “Xfinity”), and tells a few jaw-dropping tales of mistreated customers.  If anyone out there in Blogland is employed in that capacity…you should really look into getting into a more honorable line of work, like cooking meth or working for the USPS.

Adventures in Netflix

Well, it did not take long for my resolution to be more productive here on the blog in 2015 to blow away into the fierce four blogosphere winds; my inactivity is due to many factors: pure dagnasty laziness, my mother’s crossword puzzle obsession, and a battle currently raging with the alleged competency that is customer service at AT&T U-Verse.  (I will talk about this another time when there aren’t quite as many swear words.)  But if I had to lay the blame for my sloth at the feet of someone, Netflix would be the clear winner.

Here’s the straight dope (from a straight dope): you may recall in 2014 that I revealed my diabolical scheme to purchase a Blu-ray/DVD player for the TV in the living room so that I could watch some of my expanding Blu-ray collection—not to mention offerings from the once-healthy-now-depleted dusty Thrilling Days of Yesteryear archives—in the comfort of Count Comfy von Chair.  The player that I procured with some Amazon gift card largesse (thanks to sister Debbie and company) is also equipped with WiFi, and when the player was delivered by the skilled and proficient USPS (I say that with a heavy dose of sarcasm, by the way) no one was more surprised than I when it proved to be a breeze to set up.  This might be due to the fact that I glanced at the instructions beforehand…but I will neither confirm nor deny this.  (Also, too: the player did not come with a USSB cord…fortunately I had prepared for such emergencies.)

So I have the player…I hook it up…and naturally, I want to test out my new toy, so I decided to sign up for a free month at Netflix.  I’ve been a Netflix customer a couple of times in the past, and I never had any controversial issues other than the fact that I rarely got around to watching some of the rental DVDs, and thusly had difficulty justifying the expense.  With the streaming, there’s no problem: I watch the movies I want, and there’s no envelopes to return or any of that hassle.  I can see why Netflix, Hulu Plus and the other services available on the WiFi portion of the player are an attractive option to folks who are declaring their independence from cable (and good for them, I say).  Los Parentes Yesteryear cannot exercise that option because they enjoy sportsball too much…and if my Dad were to suddenly be separated from his cable news I can’t promise you things wouldn’t get ugly.

So in addition to some Radio Spirits assignments and some ClassicFlix stuff (here’s a review of 1928’s A Lady of Chance that’s just gone up recently) the rest of my time has been spent watching movies on Netflix.  What do I have to report?  Let’s find out.

Fantasia (1940)/Fantasia 2000 (1999) – Previously, I was oh-for-three in attempting to watch what many people consider Walt Disney’s greatest animation achievement: the 1940 classic Fantasia.  I bought the VHS in 1991 and tried to watch it on two separate occasions, falling fast asleep within the first half-hour every time.  The videocassette eventually got sold and I later purchased the 2000 DVD release…only to start snoring a third time, again around the thirty-minute mark.  (That bit o’DVD Sominex later got sold as well.)

I thought it might have just been me; maybe I was just lethargic due to lack of rest.  But, no—while I was successful on the fourth try (though I did nod off a couple of times) to see all of Fantasia, that movie is a sure fire cure for insomnia.  I know it’s heralded for its innovations in animation; I know it made great strides in stereophonic sound; I know it’s an acid trip for some.  But honest to my grandma, I think this film may be one of the most overrated I’ve ever watched.  Maybe it’s the classical music that puts me to sleep, but I’m pretty sure it’s the repetitive nature of the segments in the movie that does the trick.  With the possible exception of the Dance of the Hours ballet (the one with the hippos, gators, etc.), every sequence in Fantasia follows the same pattern: a period of tranquility…then upheaval…then tranquility again.  You could argue that this is due to the nature of music chosen, and I probably wouldn’t offer up too much of a rebuttal except for a yawn.

This is not to say there aren’t entertaining moments in Fantasia: The Sorcerer’s Apprentice with Mickey Mouse (the cartoon that laid the groundwork for the feature) is always fun, and I like the Night on Bald Mountain sequence (though I’ll admit I giggle when I hear the music, knowing it was the theme for radio’s Escape).  But the movie as a whole is way too long for my attention span…and you’re going to think me positively mahd but I actually preferred Fantasia 2000 (1999; which I also watched) more.  (I loved the shorter running time and variety of the segments in that—my favorite is probably the Al Hirschfeld-inspired Rhapsody in Blue number.)

Canon City (1948) – This classic semi-documentary film noir had been on my “must-see” list for a long time: Canon City tells the tale of a daring prison break at the Colorado State Penitentiary in 1947, masterminded in the movie by TDOY fave Jeff Corey (one of his best onscreen turns).  Scott Brady plays the lifer who’s reluctantly dragooned into going along with a dream cast of cons that includes Whit Bissell, Stanley Clements, DeForest Kelley, Henry Brandon and Charles Russell.  Actual Colorado State Pen warden Roy Best plays himself (and was smart to keep his day job), and silver screen Dick Tracy Ralph Byrd plays a screw who’s taken hostage.  If you didn’t know this one was written and directed by Crane Wilbur you’d swear it was an Anthony Mann noir…no doubt due to the superb cinematography that’s the work of the incomparable John Alton.  You can hear Great Gildersleeve announcer John Wald as a radio commentator (the ubiquitous Reed Hadley is the narrator), and City also features appearances by John Doucette, Howard Negley and Mabel Paige as the elderly hostage who waits patiently for Corey to be distracted so that she can introduce him to the business end of a hammer.  Definitely in the running as one of the best “new” classic movies I’ve seen so far this year.

Down Three Dark Streets (1954) – Federal man Zack Stewart (Kenneth Tobey) is working three separate cases: he’s on the trail of a bandit named Joe Walpo (Joe Bassett, who guns down gas station attendant William Schallert in the first few minutes of the movie); investigating a hood (Gene Reynolds) who’s taking the fall for the participants in a stolen car racket; and looking into the matter of a woman (Ruth Roman) who’s being blackmailed by a thug for an insurance settlement of $10,000.  Stewart gets a phone tip from a woman named Brenda Ralles (Suzanne Alexander) about one of the cases…and is gunned down by an assailant when he and supervisor John “Rip” Ripley (Broderick Crawford) pay Brenda a visit.

In order to solve Stewart’s murder, Ripley will have to close each of the cases in this better-than-you’d-think procedural that also features good performances from Martha Hyer, Marisa Pavan, Casey Adams (I swear that guy’s been everywhere lately), Claude Akins and Harlan Warde.  (OTR veteran William Johnstone plays Brod’s boss, and Myra Marsh is also on hand.)  I decided to watch Dark Streets after recently seeing director Arnold Laven’s Without Warning! (1952—hopefully the review will be up on the CF site soon); the killer’s identity is pretty obvious but I liked the movie as a whole (film noir fans should definitely check it out).  (Incidentally, Laven has a bit part as a reporter in the aforementioned Canon City.)

Cop Hater (1958) – I was hoping for a hat trick with this one; I’ll dispense with the details since it was previously reviewed by TDOY cub reporter Philip Schweier on the blog.  I wanted to see it because of its 87th Precinct origins but to be honest I thought Cop Hater was a boring talkfest that only really comes to life in the final few minutes of the film (and even I thought that plot resolution strained credibility).  It was fun to see Jerry Orbach as a teenage hood named “Momzer” (those of you familiar with Yiddish will get the joke) and Vincent Gardenia has a nice role as a gimpy (and sweaty) informer.  Still, I definitely thought the short-lived TV show was better.

Carry On Cleo (1964)/Carry On Cowboy (1966) – Because there are a few movies from Britain’s “Carry On” franchise that I haven’t seen, I’ve been DVR’ing as many as I can when The Greatest Cable Channel Known to Mankind™ runs them on Saturday mornings.  These two haven’t come up in the Tee Cee Em rotation yet so I gave them a look-see: Carry On Cowboy is one of the weakest I’ve seen, and I think that’s because the jokes that are often featured in these films—some so old they’re collecting pensions—are funnier because they’ve been filtered through a British accent.  Cowboy is supposed to be a Western spoof, and since most of the characters use exaggerated “Western” drawls the threadbare verbal gags just fall flat.  Here’s a quick synopsis: Johnny Finger (Sid James), a.k.a. The Rumpo Kid (which may have been the only thing I laughed at, since it reminded me of “Ramblin’ Syd Rumpo” from the BBC radio comedy Round the Horne), terrorizes the citizens of Stodge City until sanitation engineer Marshal P. Knutt (Jim Dale) comes in to “clean up the town” (yes, he’s mistaken for a lawman).  Cowboy showcases the usual members of the troupe: Kenneth Williams, Charles Hawtrey (funny as a fey Indian), Joan Sims, Angela Douglas, Peter Butterworth and Bernard Bresslaw (it was the first Carry On film for the latter two).

Carry On Cleo is considered by many devotees to be the funniest of the series…but I’m not sure I can agree with that, even though Cleo has its moments.  Sid James plays Marc Antony (“Blimus!”), Kenneth Williams is Julius Caesar, and Amanda Barrie makes a lovely Cleopatra—but the focus is on Hengist Pod (Kenneth Connor) and Horsa (Jim Dale), two Britons captured and taken to Rome to be sold into slavery.  (I did guffaw heartily at some early scenes where Romans Caesar and Marc Antony go on about England’s beastly weather.)  Joan Sims and Charles Hawtrey are also in this one, as are future Doctor Who Jon Pertwee and The Rag Trade’s Sheila Hancock (who exits the movie far too soon) as Hengist’s wife Senna.  (No, the jokes don’t get any better.)

The Panic in Needle Park (1971) – My Facebook compadre Kingo Gondo and I were having a conversation about the DVD inavailability of this second directorial effort from Jerry Schatzberg (TCM had recently run his 1973 film Scarecrow) and even though I recorded it off Fox’s movie channel (back in their pre-commercial interruption days) I’d been remiss in giving it my undivided attention.  Al Pacino (who’s also in Scarecrow) has this one to thank for landing him the plum role of Michael Corleone in The Godfather (1972); in The Panic in Needle Park he plays a drug dealer who falls for a young girl (Kitty Winn) and proceeds to transform her into a heroin addict (and by that token, a prostitute).  It’s controversial, to be sure—though it’s a bit tame today in light of movies that have followed; I found myself fascinated by the film (you can’t help but like the couple even though they walk on the seamy side) and enjoyed seeing future stars Raul Julia (as Winn’s ex-boyfriend) and Paul Sorvino, not to mention The Rockford Files’ Joe Santos and Hill Street Blues’ Kiel Martin.

Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry (1974) – And speaking of seamy couples…this heralded drive-in classic was one I also hadn’t seen (though I remember seeing television ads for it when it was first released): Peter Fonda (he’s the crazy one) and Adam Roarke are a pair of NASCAR hopefuls who rob a grocery store (the manager is an uncredited Roddy McDowall) of $150,000 in order to finance their auto racing ambitions.  They’re unable to shake loose hitchhiker Susan George (the dirty one), and must elude unorthodox cop Vic Morrow—who’s following in hot pursuit with all weaponry and vehicles at his disposal.

Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry features mucho muscle cars and many vehicles running into things and each other; this sort of thing isn’t really my movie preference but its reputation was such I felt obligated to check it out.  Its rep is puzzling; with the exception of Roarke (and even he can be a pill at times), there’s not many sympathetic personages among the main characters…and the chemistry between Fonda’s Larry and George’s Mary is such that I kept hoping he’d run over her with that damn car.  (Any movie with Vic Morrow in it is generally going to feature him as a dirtbag, no question.)  Some folks will find the ending of this one tragic…but I sighed a sigh of relief, knowing it was all over.  (Directed by John Hough, who also did The Legend of Hell House—which might explain why McDowall is in this one.)

Guest Review: Metropolis (1927)

By Philip Schweier

This is it, kids. The grandfather of all science fiction films. It may not have been the very first, but its influence is so overwhelming it can’t be avoided. Upon its release, it is reported to have cost 5 million marks, which translates to approximately $200 million in today’s dollars. The film’s run time is 153 minutes, lengthy for even modern movies. But as a silent, it was beyond epic. Most feature films of the day were an hour at the most.

It is the story of a futuristic city, split between the haves, who enjoy a life of leisure, and the have-nots, who toil away in the depths for hours on end and keep the city functioning. One day, a young woman, Maria (Brigitte Helm), brings a group of children to one of the pleasure gardens. “These are your brothers,” she tells them. The group is chased away by the authorities, but one young man, Freder (Gustav Fröhlich), is intrigued.

Freder is the son of Joh Fredersen (Alfred Abel), the architect of Metropolis, by whose design the privileged enjoy a life of luxury at the expense of those less fortunate. Freder follows Maria don into the depths of the under-city, where he witnesses first-hand the hardship and suffering of the people who make his pampered life possible. Idealistically, he approaches his father in an effort to win them some reprieve.

Fredersen is indifferent to his son’s pleas, and Freder goes so far as to return to the workers and take the place of one who collapses at his station. He sends Worker #11811 (Erwin Biswanger) to his apartment, but Slim, Joh Fredersen’s lackey, has been keeping an eye on Freder, and quickly learns of the young man’s interference. Freder later follows his fellow workers to the underground cathedral, where Maria preaches of the day when a mediator will bring the two social factions together in harmony.

Fredersen, meanwhile, pays a visit to the home of Rotwang (Rudolf Klein-Rogge), a crazed inventor. The two were once rivals for the same woman. She chose Fredersen but died in childbirth. Rotwang shows Fredersen his automaton, and the master of Metropolis schemes to have the mechanical creature take the place of the revolutionary Maria.

Rotwang follows through on Fredersen’s plan, kidnapping Maria and turning his robot into her duplicate. But the mechanical version owes more to the whore of Babylon than her altruistic namesake. Men fight duels, commit suicide, and generally go off their collective rockers in an effort to win her for themselves. The robot Maria is also tasked with stoking the fires of evolution. She encourages the workers to rebel, and effectively starve the machines, and by extension, the upper world.

Eventually, the two factions clash, but in so doing the deception is revealed. Freder challenges Rotwang in a fight atop the cathedral, and becomes the Mediator – i.e., messiah – the workers have been waiting for.

To say the film has overtones of Biblical proportions is putting it mildly. Director Fritz Lang was Jewish, though Hitler was so enamored of the film he chose to overlook the filmmaker’s Semitism. Legend has it Lang left for Paris immediately.

The film immediately began to influence those that followed, and its impact continues to ripple down through the decades. The story has become old hat by modern standards, and its age makes it easy to judge the movie as being overly long and boring. A silent film more than two and a half hours in length is a lot to foist on a modern audience. I had to watch the movie in fragments in order to maintain interest.

This particular version (on Netflix) was cobbled together from various sources, as long lost prints and negatives had been discovered in various locations over the past decade or so. Previously, audiences could only see about 60 percent of the original footage, though I can’t say very much was missing from the overall narrative.

It’s an important piece of movie history, one I recommend all film enthusiasts see, but personally I found it challenging to sit through. Though not as much as the horrible Giorgio Moroder cut of the 1980s.