An Offer You Can Refuse #10: Gambling House (dir by Ted Tetzlaff)

Posted on June 12, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The 1950 film noir, Gambling House, begins with the aftermath of a murder.

A man’s been gunned down in an illegal gambling house. The murderer is gangster named Joe Farrow (William Bendix) but Farrow has no intention of going to prison. Fortunately, another gambler was wounded during the shoot out. Marc Fury (Victor Mature) will survive his injury but he might not survive being a witness. However, Farrow sends his gunmen to make Fury an offer. If Fury agrees to take the rap for the shooting, he’ll not only live but Farrow will pay him a good deal of money. Fury agrees because …. well, what else is he going to do?

Fury is arrested for the murder. He pleads self-defense and he’s acquitted at the trial. So far, so good, right? However, there’s always a complication. First off, there’s the fact that Farrow wasn’t exactly being honest when he promised to pay Fury. Farrow has no intention of giving Fury any money. In fact, now that Fury has been acquitted and the case is officially closed, it might be more convenient just to have Fury killed.

The other problem is that Fury’s trial brings him to the attention of the Immigration and Naturalization Service. The INS takes a look at Fury’s record and they discover that he’s not Marc Fury at all! (I know, it’s a shock. Who would think that a name like Marc Fury would be fake?) It turns out that his original name was Marc Furiotta and he was born in Italy. His family came to the U.S. when Marc was a child. Marc always assumed that he was a citizen but it turns out that his parents were never naturalized and therefore, Marc is in the country illegally! INS wants to deport him. Marc wants to stay in the United States.

Fortunately, Marc will have a chance to try to convince a judge to let him stay in the United States, despite his lengthy criminal record. Until his hearing (or until he makes bail), he’ll be detained at Ellis Island. Marc soon finds himself stuck on Ellis Island, presumably right underneath the base of the Statue of Liberty. (I know the Statue of Liberty isn’t actually on Ellis Island but the imagery just got stuck in my head while I was writing this review and I’ll be damned if I’m going to take it out.) He’s surrounded by earnest immigrants who can’t wait to become American citizens and that awakens his own patriotic feelings. He also meets a social worker named Lynn (Terry Moore) and he falls in love with her. When he appears before the judge, he explains that he can’t put into words why he wants to stay in America. He just know that he does. Awwww, what a wonderful story …. oh wait. He’s still got Joe Farrow trying to kill him, doesn’t he?

Gambling House is an odd film. Actually, it’s something like three different films at once. On the one hand, it’s a low-budget film noir, with menacing tough guys and a morally ambiguous hero and an outwardly respectable villain who is actually a member of the mob. On the other hand, it’s an earnest legal drama about an immigrant who comes to love his adoptive country. And then, on the other hand (that’s right, this movie has three hands), it’s a romcom where cynical Marc ends up falling for idealistic Lynn.

That’s a lot for one, low-budget 90-minute film to carry on its shoulder and sadly, Gambling House struggles to balance all of its different elements. It gets off to a good start, with Victor Mature delivering all of his lines with a scornful disdainful for anyone who looks at him. And the scenes with William Bendix as the mob boss are effective. But none of those scenes seem to belong in the same movie with Marc waiting on Ellis Island and Lynn explaining why she wants to help people become citizens. In the end, this is a film about many things but none of those things are really explored in that much depth.

Though this is a adequately directed and acted film and this is one scene, in which Marc looks at the New York skyline from the holding cell in Ellis Island, that achieves a certain visual poetry, this is still an offer that you can refuse.

Previous Offers You Can’t (or Can) Refuse:

All That Glitters Is Not Gold: Jane Russell in THE LAS VEGAS STORY (RKO 1952)

Posted on December 6, 2016 by gary loggins

cracked rear viewer

Jane Russell’s sexy as always, but THE LAS VEGAS STORY falls flatter than the proverbial pancake. This dull little crime drama boasts a good cast and some good moments, but on the whole doesn’t satisfy. One of the problems is Jane’s co-star Victor Mature, who tries but can’t match the cynicism frequent Russell co-star Robert Mitchum would’ve brought to the role of Jane’s jilted ex-lover, now a cop in the City of Sin. The most interesting thing about THE LAS VEGAS STORY is it’s screenplay credits, which we’ll get to later.

When ex-lounge singer Linda Rollins (Russell) returns to Vegas with husband Lloyd (a subdued but still sarcastic Vincent Price ), she visits her old stomping ground the Last Chance, where she’s greeted by piano player Happy (Hoagy Carmichael) and former boss Mike Fogarty (Will Wright), who’s been bought out by new owner Clayton (Robert J. Wilke). Police lieutenant Dave Andrews (Mature)…

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What Lisa Marie Watched Last Night: Head (dir. by Bob Rafelson)

Posted on June 29, 2012 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Last night, I turned over to TCM and I watched the 1968 film Head.

Why Was I Watching It?

Though Head was a notorious box office bomb when it was released in 1968, it has since become notorious as one of the most incomprehensible movies ever made. Every book that I’ve ever read about film or pop culture in the 1960s makes mention of Head. Not only was the film written by a pre-Easy Rider Jack Nicholson, but the film also featured The Monkees literally acting out against their stardom by committing career suicide by appearing the film that was apparently conceived while Nicholson and director Bob Rafelson were tripping on LSD. I’ve read about Head in dozens of books and I’ve seen it described as being “a surreal masterpieces,” “an incomprehensible, pretentious mess,” and “a total head trip of a film.” Having now seen the film, I can say that’s all true.

I do have to admit that before I saw Head, I didn’t know who the Monkees were. Don’t get me wrong — I knew that there was a band in the 60s called The Monkees and I knew that they had their own TV show. Thanks to the fact that The Brady Bunch Movie played on cable for like two months straight earlier this year, I knew which one was Davey Jones. But, that was about it. Even after seeing Head, I’m still not really sure I could tell you which was one was Mickey Dolenz and which one was Peter Tork. I also have to admit that I spent the first half of the film referring to Michael Nesmith as the “Texan with the sideburns.”

Fortunately, I watched Head with two wonderful groups of people on twitter — the TCM Party and the Drive-In Mob. They came together last night and provided a very entertaining live tweet session devoted to the film. Unlike me, they actually knew one Monkee from another and following their tweets helped me survive the film’s rough first half. To all of them, I say “Thank you for the education.”

What’s It About?

That’s not an easy question to answer but I’ll try.

The Monkees jump off a bridge and plunge into the psychedelic waters below but they’re saved from drowning by a bunch of mermaids. This, of course, leads to the four members of the groups finding themselves in scenes from a war film, a boxing film, a western film, and eventually they discover that they’re actually dandruff on the head of actor Victor Mature. Ultimately, they end up wandering around on a studio backlot where they’re menaced by veteran scary actor Timothy Carey and an ominous black box that seems to intent on trapping them. The Monkees react to this by running for their lives, complaining to Jack Nicholson and Bob Rafelson about the script, and telling everyone that they meet that they’re just actors in a film. Eventually, it appears that the Monkees don’t have any options left beyond committing public suicide but Rafelson has other ideas…

What Worked?

If you’re as obsessed with pop cultural history as I am, Head is one of those films that simply you have to see. Even if you find the film to be totally incomprehensible and just a tad bit pretentious, Head is a valuable artifact of its time. Head is a film that could have only been made in the late 60s and it epitomizes everything about the age that produced it. It’s like a cinematic Pompeii.

Now, I have to admit that most of the enjoyment I got out of the first half of the film came more from my own curiosity as a secret history nerd than from the film itself. However, the second half of the film is often times genuinely entertaining. The satire is a bit sharper and the overall theme (i.e., the struggle to maintain your own unique individuality in a world that demands conformity) starts emerge from the film’s mix of surreal images.

For me, the film really picked up with Davy Jones’ performance of Daddy’s Song:

The woman dancing with Davy Jones was Toni Basil, who choreographed all the dance numbers in this film.

Here’s another sequence that I particularly enjoyed. This came towards the end of the film and, as I said on twitter, who doesn’t enjoy a little psychedelic dancing?

What Did Not Work?

While Head had all the virtues of its time, it also had all the flaws. It’s a definite hit-and-miss affair, with the stronger (and occasionally insightful) moments uneasily balanced with plenty of sequences that dragged. As you may have guessed, Head is the type of film that’s brilliant if you’re in the mood for it but it’s rather annoying if you’re not.

“Oh my God! Just like me!” Moments

I would have loved to have been Toni Basil, dancing with Davy Jones in the Daddy’s Song number.

Lessons Learned

Watching Head, I realized that I had discovered this year’s perfect Christmas present. I’m going to get a 100 copies of Head on DVD and give them out to everyone I know. That way, I’ll have an excuse to call everyone up in November and tell them, “Don’t worry, I’m giving you Head for Christmas.” I think, if nothing else, that’ll make me a very popular girl come December.

A Quickie With Lisa Marie: The Robe (dir. by Henry Koster)

Posted on March 2, 2011 by Lisa Marie Bowman

As part of my mission to view every film — good or bad — ever nominated for best picture, I spent last night watching 1953’s The Robe (which was nominated for best picture but lost to From Here To Eternity.) The Robe is an old school biblical epic, the type of film that used to regularly get nominated for best picture but which you don’t see much of anymore. If you’re wondering why that genre hasn’t stood the test of time, I’d suggest watching The Robe.

Richard Burton stars as Marcellus, a womanizing Roman centurion who falls in love with young, pure noblewoman Diana (Jean Simmons). Unfortunately, Diana is set to marry the decadent Caligula (Jay Robinson). (Yes, that Caligula…) Burton’s rivalry with Caligula leads to him being reassigned to Jerusalem where he not only witnesses the crucifixion but also wins Jesus’ robe in a dice game. However, Marcellus soon finds himself being haunted by nightmares of the crucifixion and he discovers that he can’t even wear the robe without having a seizure. His slave, Demetrius (played by musclebound Victor Mature) has secretly become a Christian and steals The Robe before disappearing into the Holy Land. As Marcellus, who believes that only by destroying the robe can he free himself from his guilt, searches for Demetrius, he is reunited with Diana and, since this is an old school biblical epic, he also ends up converting as well. Unfortunately, he does all this around the same time that Caligula becomes Emperor and (in this film if not in actual history) begins to persecute the early Christians.

The Robe was the first film to made in “Cinemascope” and, while that may have been an amazing development back in 1953, when watched today, it’s obvious how much of the film is really just made up of filler designed to show off the new process. Again, it may have been amazing at the time but today, it just seems like a slow movie. Even more importantly, The Robe itself is so reverent and respectful of its subject that it’s just not that interesting. Speaking as a nonbeliever, I’ve still sometimes feel that a lot of contemporary films make it a point to ridicule Christians because they’re an easy target. Unlike a certain other world-wide religion, most Christians aren’t going to blow you up just because you featured an image of Jesus in your movie. However, movies like The Robe were not only extremely reverent and respectful but they went out their way to let you know how reverent and respectful they were being. The result is a film that lack any hint of nuance or anything that might actually challenge the audience. It’s like Avatar with Jesus.

Since he’s best known for being an alcoholic and marrying Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton might seem like an odd choice to play an idealistic Christian martyr. And, quite frankly, he is. Throughout the film, he’s visibly uncomfortable and, quite frankly, he didn’t have the legs necessary to pull off the ancient Roman look either. Jean Simmons is also stuck playing a stock character — the virtuous maiden. As with a lot of the old school biblical epics, the lead characters are so boring that you can’t help but feel they had more fun as pagans. Meanwhile, poor Victor Mature wanders through the film struggling to show anything resembling emotion. I mean, he tries so hard that its impossible not to like him. At the very least, The Robe proves that any film featuring Victor Mature will have some sort of camp value.

(As I watched The Robe, I kept thinking about a comment that Groucho Marx supposedly made. Apparently, he said he wouldn’t watch any movie starring Victor Mature because “I won’t watch any movie where the guy’s tits are bigger than the girl’s.”)

The Robe does feature some interesting supporting performances from several wonderful B-movie character actors. Jay Robinson is obviously having the time of his life playing the Emperor Caligula. Robinson’s version isn’t quite as effective as Malcolm McDowell’s but Robinson is a lot more fun to watch. Richard Boone is effectively slovenly in the role of Pilate and there’s a nice little throw-away scene where Pilate absent-mindedly washes his hands twice. Meanwhile Ernest Thesiger (who played Dr. Pretorious in the Bride of Frankenstein) is an oddly benevolent Emperor Tiberius while Michael Rennie, the alien from the original The Day the Earth Stood Still, plays none other than St. Peter. Even Jeff Morrow (from This Island Earth) has a small role.

Like most of the old school Hollywood biblical epics, The Robe seems pretty hokey when viewed today and I get the feeling it probably seemed hokey when it was first released back in 1953. Still, I remember that my Grandma Meehan used to love to watch these movies whenever they would show up on television. She would have deep theological debates with the images that flickered across the screen. I can still remember spending multiple Easters listening to her argue with The Ten Commandments. I don’t know if Grandma ever saw The Robe but I do know that she believed that the Holy Tunic was presently located in France and not at the Cathedral of Trier in Germany. Seriously, you did not want to question her on this point.

To be honest, watching this type of film is always an odd experience for me. Up until recently, I described myself as a “fallen Catholic” and I always felt so proud of myself afterward. I could spend hours telling you why I no longer believed in the faith of my childhood and I could get quite smug about it. I guess I still can but, as of late, I’ve discovered that humility goes well with a lack of faith. I’ve also been forced to admit that when you’re raised Catholic, you’re a Catholic for life regardless of whether you believe in the Holy Trinity or not. If pressed, I guess I’d call myself “an agnostic Catholic.” I’m the type of nonbeliever who still feels the need to go to confession after a long weekend. It’s not so much that I doubt my doubt as much as I wish that I could still go back to a time in my life when I actually could have faith without feeling like I was in denial. So, even as I openly scoff at these films, there’s always that small part of my heart that wants to embrace the film in all of its simplistic and hokey glory.

That said, it’s also true that The Robe is a lot easier to resist than a film like Pasolini’s The Gospel According to Saint Matthew or, for that matter, The Exorcist.