While something of an dramatised public service announcement circa 1960, this movie turns out to be an interesting tale of human relations and parochial mores with the added benefit of compelling performances by actors young and old. Peter Carter, the recently-appointed grade school principal in a small Canadian town, along with wife Sally and little girl Jean have settled beautifully into their new home and supportive community. But their bucolic world is turned upside down when daughter Jean innocently relates an episode that occurred with her best friend Lucille and a revered community elder who asked the two girls to take off their clothes. What ensues is a jumble of conflicting emotional elements: morality, respect for the status quo, concern for neighborhood children, retribution, career, loyalty. Despite the movie ending rather expectedly, some excellent dramatic scenes fill the gap.

Mala Powers is not your typical glamorous Hollywood leading lady. Should we care? No. She's an accomplished actress with a very attractive demeanor who brings to the screen believable, authentic personas. Fear No More is one such outing for Ms. Powers as Sharon Carlin a personal secretary who is traveling to San Francisco from Los Angeles to deliver important documents on behalf of her employer. No sooner has she entered her compartment on the train than the trip takes a bizarre and deadly twist which finds her escaping from a pursuer at a whistle-stop along the way and into the arms of handsome French motorist Paul (Jacques Bergerac). They return to Los Angeles only to realize the episode on the train was just the tip of a psychological and criminal iceberg which runs deep in the lives of both Sharon and her antagonists. Mid-century modern title design and animation augur well the interesting fare to come. Bernard Wiesen's direction is crisp and sharp adding to the film's psycho aura. You won't bail on this one.

Dementia 13 is Fancis Ford Coppola's first feature film for which he is credited as the sole director. His few prior directorial outings were in the vein of sexploitation as a team member. So this film offers a glimpse into the chrysalis of his career. It's centered around a rich dysfunctional family, a mother and her 3 grown sons, who gather yearly at their Irish castle in remembrance of a sister who drowned at an early age in a pond on the property. With a large inheritance on the line, rumors of ghosts, a domineering matriarch who doesn't care for her sons' choices in women, a conniving daughter-in-law, and people going missing there's got to be some dementia somewhere. But the 13 is something of a mystery. Despite a hodgepodge script Coppala's embryonic direction has alluring edge. The cast includes Patrick Magee (Clockwork Orange) and William Campbell (Star Trek). As in many a Roger Corman production creative graphic/animated titles elevate the artistic element.

Everyone knows Broadway's Anthony John played by Ronald Colman. And to make sure we know everyone knows him the movie opens with good old Ronald having a hard time navigating the sidewalks of New York City without bumping into someone he knows. And in these opening scenes Colman is every bit the Ronald Colman audiences have come to know and love: friendly, a bit melancholy, handsome, and engagingly confused. "So Double Life was to be just another Coleman outing to guarantee box office returns, huh?" Boy was I taken in and wonderfully so. Coleman's portrayal of an actor so always in character that fantasy and reality are indistinguishable is nothing short of brilliant. One wonders if anyone else could play the role. No less enigmatic is how his Oscar for best actor was one of only two garnered by the film for 1947, Miklos Rozsa's for Best Music being the other. A review of winners and losers that year is cringe-able. Best Original Screenplay went to Sidney Sheldon for "The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer?" If ever there was reason to question the Oscars as a contest of popularity and politics, 1947 stands out like a sore thumb. No politics here; "A Double Life" is a great movie.

If asked for a quintessential example of film noir I'd point to Detour. Everything in Al Roberts' life hinged on that fateful day he left his job as a cabaret piano player in New York and started thumbing rides to Los Angeles. The Big Apple just hadn't been the same since his girl Sue left for Los Angeles looking for a break in the movies. If you don't know where you're going any road will take you there, wisdom Al learned too late. Hitch-hiking is not a straight line, it's a circuitous route often with detours and not all detours are related to the road. Tom Neal is totally believable as sad sack Al and Ann Savage is perfect in the role of likeable antagonist Vera. Arguably director Edgar G. Ulmer's magnum opus among an interesting portfolio of  films. If you're a fan of film noir, make a beeline to see Detour.

A chance meeting just 4 weeks ago, a whirlwind romance, and an impetuous marriage find Ruth and John dockside a deluxe cruise ship preparing to board for a hastily arranged sea voyage honeymoon. Ruth is blown away. "It's so exciting! I just need a little time to get used to this. Everything's happened so fast!" John carries the lucky bride over the threshold of their well-appointed cabin and it's agreed the two will meet at the bar for a celebratory drink after he's finished depositing money with the purser for safe keeping. That's when Ruth discovers she's entered the Twilight Zone. Except for the ship's doctor (Michael Rennie) everyone thinks she's crazy and he's not 100% sure. Probably not the movie you'll be raving about a week later, but a smart cast, craftsman-like production, lush sets and length of 75 minutes make for a neat little mystery.

There are many reasons not to like Kiss Me Deadly. For starters, whether by happenstance or design, the film editing is jerky in spots; you find yourself thinking "What just happened?" More important, the plot is hard to follow with a jumble of overplayed characters popping in and out of the story line from beginning to end. Instead of logical progression from seminal event to theatrical coda, the movie comes off more as a series of vignettes. You can rewind and try to figure out exactly who and what they're talking about but it probably won't help. In the case of Kiss Me Deadly it doesn't matter. The movie is first and foremost about style, film noir style. Dialogue and continuity are secondary issues. Art direction, lighting and photography are paramount. What the actors say is not as important as how they say it and what they're wearing. The ending doesn't matter, it's the getting there that counts. So relax and enjoy the moment. It will all make sense in the end.

Pickpocket Skip takes advantage of a standing-room only New York subway train to jostle close to attractive female Candy and miraculously open her purse, feel around inside, retrieve her wallet and snap it shut unbeknownst to her. Just another day at the office for Skip who returns to his ramshackle, dock-side digs and surveys his booty of gold watches and ...  "What's this?" Tucked in Candy's wallet is a strip of film exposed with shots of printed formulas? Meantime Candy is being read the riot act by her ex-boyfriend for losing the film. Adding to the intrigue, neither Skip nor Candy know that their encounter on the train had been observed by undercover cops. And so the plot is set for a melange of interested parties out to secure that film, some at any cost. Skip and Candy's implausible but touching relationship and some sappy sentimentality from Thelma Ritter aside, it's a good movie with some great fight scenes. You'll be there at the end. 

Theories about whys and wherefores of an attractive young woman found murdered and dumped in a London park get turned upside down when the victim's brother arrives in town to be interviewed by police. The brother is black but the cops are investigating the murder of a white woman or so they thought. Race relations play a pivotal role in this saga but not gratuitously to the detriment of an excellent script, cast and production. Indeed the interactions between cops, blacks and whites provide a matter-of-fact look at attitudes and prejudices on the cusp of the 1960's in a rather mature manner. It's not a subject to dance around. Together with Nigel Patrick's portrayal of the consummate Chief Inspector, Sapphire makes for absorbing drama.

A breakdown on the London Underground provides the opportunity for Jack, a city bus conductor, to strike up a conversation with fellow passenger Anne. She's the young woman whom Jack had admired from afar riding daily on his route. ... that was until he got reassigned. He's smitten but she's trying to get to a date with Victor Colebrooke: dapper, aristocratic, refined, rich, eligible man-about-town Victor Colebrooke. An audiophile and collector of rare music albums, Victor met Anne at the record store where she works which provides a springboard for an interesting soundtrack. Yes, Victor is quite the catch. But what the bus conductor lacks in sophistication he makes up for in youthful charm and Victor is ... well older. And then, there is his temper. And his mother, whom he lives with, is concerned. Of course it's nothing, but Victor's ancestry is a bit dodgy.

I'd like to give The Fly 1958 the coveted green check mark if for no other reason it serves as a palate cleanser from reality based dramas. But it is so absurd in every respect and downright tedious it is only out of my sense of charity and deference to the morbidly curious (I guess you'd have to put me in that category) that it gets a three star rating. I suppose it's not that unusual for scientific geniuses to have an extensive home laboratory in the basement. And accidents do happen. But how many 10 year old boys make a game out of collecting flies anyway? And how much time was wasted desperately trying to find that one special fly outside in the garden? And yes it was circa 1958 but forensic pathologists must still have been able to distinguish a giant squished fly from a human body. Chalk this one up to kitsch and, as advertised, "for your own good don't see it alone."

It's my impression The Old Dark House by JB Priestley is considered an icon of classic filmdom. Thought lost for many years, the 1932 film was found in 1968 and has recently undergone a 4K restoration. The movie opens with a couple and their male friend driving on a rough country road in a horrific rainstorm. Fortunately they come upon a large, old house and seek refuge. The three are reluctantly admitted into the residence by a less than accommodating elderly couple and a frightening butler played by Boris Karloff. Shortly there after a second car arrives at the house with an odd young couple also seeking refuge. We find there are more people in the house than originally thought and what  transpires between the 5 travelers and the residents is ... well old and dark. Icon it may be and worth the watch, but not on my list of favorites.  Billed as both drama and comedy, it's rather goofy and mundane in terms of shock value.

There is nothing very smooth about Smooth as Silk, a story about an actress who uses men to get ahead in show business. Production-wise cast and crew play their parts reasonably well, nice sets, good lighting, professional performances. But the story is a flop. There is not one sympathetic central character in the film, just back-stabbing, social-climbing, win-at-all-cost crumbs. ... no mystery, no intrigue, no fidelity, nothing to tug at your heartstrings or evoke a tear, nothing to point to at final curtain and say, "I loved that!" In fact the movie ends so abruptly it's as if the producers were racing for the stage door to get out of there. The promotion says it all: "Dangerous Women ... His Game, Sudden Death ... His sport!" If you can tell me what that has to this movie, I'd like to know. Fortunately it's only 64 minutes, just over  SAG's 60 minute threshold for a feature.

If you're a fan of The Thin Man series of films starring William Powell, you'll find this an almost identical scenario with the notable exception of Myrna Loy. Based on the popular 1920 & 30s series of detective novels by S.S. Van Dine, The Kennel Murder Case is the last of four such movies starring Powell as Philo Vance. This final production is more modern and feels like a pilot episode for the Thin Man franchise launched just a year later. Philo Vance is a rich dog breeder/lover whose crime-solving prowess is regularly tapped by police for help with their most baffling cases. The kennel slant to the story is pretty lame in this adaptation, probably serving more as ploy than plot to test crowd reaction to man's best friend. Voila Asta? And the film is a tad hokey particularly in the manufacture of scale models which is reminiscent of Doc Brown in "Back to the Future." But it should serve well on a rainy weekend.

Dashing young doctor Jekyll is a raging success. He lectures at the medical college, lives in a mausoleum of a house with staff and plays a giant pipe organ proficiently. Add to this his betrothal to one of London's most eligible debutantes. Can it get any better? Well, yes. The fiance's father is resistant to give his permission and Jekyll is obsessed with experiments in the duality of human physiology, that of good and evil. But what could go wrong? Surely you know the story. I'm not that familiar with Frederic March's early filmography, but I'm inclined to believe this film is something of a cornerstone in his long career. He's good as Jekyll but he's superlative as Jekyll's alter ego Hyde. Some schmaltzy scenes and aged print detract, however the production is a tribute to the advancement of movies in 1931.

In World War II Great Britain a dedicated crew of operating room nurses and doctors continue to perform their vital tasks amid the stress of German bomb attacks. It's a close-knit ensemble whose lives intersect in a multiplicity of ways but take a dramatic turn on the operating table one fateful morning. Enter Alastair Sim in the person of a Scotland Yard detective with whimsical, unorthodox investigative methods. Much due to the performance of Sim it's a delightful romp of a mystery which falters a bit toward the end but nonetheless delivers solid entertainment.

Johnny Kelly (Gig Young) is a man in crisis. He's a second generation Chicago cop disillusioned with his job, his marriage and his prospects who seeks solace in a nightclub dancer and direction in a kingpin lawyer with underworld connections. It's a path to nowhere which on one Windy City night intersects with a convergence of disparate denizens no less in crisis and perhaps far less centered in their own realities. Mala Powers displays her versatility as the aging nightclub vamp. Edward Arnold, William Talman (Perry Mason) and Marie Windsor intrigue in a villainous tryst. Chill Wills serves as the conscience of a cop. And the man in the window is metaphor for the human experience.

Unsure of a man's guilt in the murder of a beloved small town minister, Prosecutor Dana Andrews is out to prove his innocence even if doing so means placing his chances for career promotion at risk. Fortunately he's got devoted wife Jane Wyatt by his side. But the cops are sure they have their man and the town is out for blood. The film has a cast of A-list Hollywood actors and director Kazan sports a distinguished portfolio. The story however is a bit stale. If you don't like surprises, this one's for you. Good for a rainy Sunday.

It is said, "absolute power corrupts absolutely." So when wannabe outsider Willie Stark decided to run for treasurer of a "typical backwoods county seat" in Louisiana the corrupt machine in charge wasn't amused. To make it worse, word around the state was that Willie was different; he was an honest man. That attracted an adoring press and a campaign of harassment from political foes which culminated in a loss at the polls for Stark. But the story doesn't end there, it's just the beginning chapter in a saga of wealth, greed, power, graft and -- you guessed it -- corruption. Somewhat maudlin and melodramatic, it stands as Broderick Crawford's magnum opus and captured the Oscar for Best Picture in 1949. Based on the life and times of Huey Long.

Nightmare is a tale of two movies. To the consternation of fellow boarding school students, a teenage girl is racked with nightmares of her insane-asylum-committed mother. She decides to leave school and return to the family home, a large estate with built-in housekeeper, cook and chauffeur. But matters only get worse and the tale changes from her issues to those of the people around her. It is my steadfast rule to never need spoiler alerts attached to a review. But I can tell you the second act of this two-act play is far more engaging than the first. I suppose that is as it should be except act one is so contrived it taints a compelling performance by Moira Redmond (Jigsaw) in slightly less-contrived act two.

Comedy, mystery, drama, crime? Take your pick in this introspective look at a cross-section of society. Gosford Park is a commingling of vulgar, rich, old-money British aristocracy with vulgar, penniless, old-money British aristocracy with vulgar nouveau riche Americans and a large staff of vulgar downstairs servants. They're all commingled for a weekend do at the landed estate of His Lordship Sir William McCordle in the mid 1930s. Somewhere in the mix there are some sympathetic characters but you'll have to look hard. Nevertheless there is no shortage of refined British protocol to serve as glue for the event. Director Robert Altman creates a seamless continuum from a-z with which film fans might indulge in rapt cinematic voyeurism.

I try hard not to read synopses or watch trailers prior to viewing a movie. So why was I experiencing deja vu in the first 15 minutes of Ninth Guest? A few minutes later the been-here-done-that feeling turned into a flat realization: “Oh! This is a rip-off of Agatha Christie’s 'And Then There Were None!'" But wait! Christie’s book came later. Huh? Draw your own conclusions. As far as the two films are concerned, they’re both entertaining but I prefer “Guest.” “None’s” Barry Fitzgerald is a tiresome, typecast leprechaun. “Guest’s” set design and wardrobe is a tribute to art deco of the period. Both casts hold up their end of the bargain but “Guest’s” dialogue is between party goers familiar with one another and its penthouse setting makes it the winner.

Perhaps the overarching question about this movie is, “Who’s the stranger?” A man appears in a small New England college town ostensibly to hunt for antiques but with ulterior motives. At the same time a shady character arrives in town and mixes it up with a relatively recent member of the college faculty who is preparing for his wedding to a local debutante, the daughter of a Supreme Court justice. As he does so often, Orwell directs and stars in the movie. But directorial talent cannot overcome a transparent plot and an ending you can see coming a mile away in yet another story built on the prospect of post war insinuations.

A May-September marriage, while the joy of elderly wife Freda's life, isn't viewed so favorably by her immediate family and attorney; indeed the young husband, Edward "Teddy" Bare (Dirk Bogarde) is an unctuous doter. The plot quickly thickens when Freda announces she's changing her will which Teddy takes to mean she's cutting him out. What we come to realize about dear Teddy is that in addition to being unctuous, he has other more complex personality issues.