The Noirs of Phil Karlson #2

Five Against the House (1955)

The movie begins with four GI-Bill students Al (Guy Madison), Brick (Brian Keith), Ronnie (Kerwin Matthews), and Roy (Alvy Ward) allowing themselves one hour of freedom in Reno during their autumn return to college. Why Reno? Because Reno beat Las Vegas in a bidding war to convince Columbia to set the picture there. Mid-fifties Reno is a character itself—we see it in all its always-the-bridesmaid charm. It's a goofy kind of western earnestness that manifests itself in the attractions the Reno tourism board chooses to highlight in this movie: a casino proudly advertising their display of historic firearms, and long, lingering shots of an automated parking garage. Danny Ocean's Vegas this is not.

The four friends quickly type themselves. Al is literally and figuratively behind the wheel. He was the group's commanding officer in Korea. Even without the uniform, he retains an unofficial authority over them. It's when the other three start scheming behind his back that things start to fall apart.

Brick is the brawny but affable goof.

But, we learn that he has a violent side as well.

Ronnie is the heir of a rich father and he's eager to prove himself as a capable man in his own right.

Roy is quickly recognizable as the low man on this totem pole. Let's face it, when it comes to screentime, he's no match for rugged (Brick), handsome (Ronnie), and rugged & handsome (Al). He spends his camera time spouting wisecracks and singing goofy songs.

The fifth titular protagonist is Kay (Kim Novak) a nightclub singer and Al's girlfriend. She gets a great intro in this picture: She begins her nightclub act in profile, lit from the back, her silhouette sings the first line of her song. She turns to the crowd, the spotlight turns on, and she sings the next line all in one fluid motion. For all the fisticuffs he shot, Karlson knew how to film a woman.

Later in the film, Al has a backstage rendezvous with Kay. He enters the dressing room and is immediately framed in the area between Kay bent leg and the ground. Director's would copy this low-angle frame-within-a-frame for years, most noticeably in The Graduate.

The first half is spent exploring the personalities and relationships of the four friends, particularly the complex bond between Al and Brick. Brick suffered a head wound in Korea while saving Al's life. This injury has left him vulnerable to violent rages—and leaves Al feeling responsible for Brick.  The plot speeds up when Ronnie makes it his goal to rob an "unrobbaable" casino in Reno. He has no desire for the money (in fact, in a dubious interpretation of the law, he thinks no "real crime" has been committed if he returns the loot). His motivation for the heist seems thin—he wants to do "something big." Brick agrees to the plot because he sees no future for himself. Roy follows along because he's a born follower. Al, the maturest of the group needs to be tricked into going along. The script does touch a bit on their greater dissaffection. As Korean War veterans, they are older, more mature, and most importantly, more cynical than the rest of the student body. Unfortunately, this deeper motive is never developed to a satisfying degree.

Ronnie, Brick and Roy manage to convince Al to take a trip to Reno. Al's main motivation is to get to Nevada, where he can marry Kay. Halfway there, Al stumbles onto the casino scheme and convinces Ronnie and Roy of its foolishness. Brick however, is harder to persuade. He sees no future for himself studying Law. He refuses to submit to himself to VA treatment again. He's damaged goods and has reached the point where robbing a casino actually seems like a reasonable life choice. Knowing he can't pull it off without the help of the others, Brick pulls out a gun and forces them to continue to Reno and the stick with the plan.

Once the gang gets to Reno (at night, of course) Karlson keeps the pacing quick and the tension tight. Composing a heist sequence is one of those tasks that forces a director to prove his mettle, and Karlson delivers. They actually manage to pull off the job, but pit boss William Conrad (the angriest fat man/fattest angry man) prevents a clean getaway. Karlson provides the denouement with a callback to the same parking garage the film began in. The Reno Chamber of Commerce seems awful proud of this car elevator/parking garage. Perhaps they hoped the audience would be so awed at this technological wonder they would choose Reno over Vegas for their next vacation.

The final 20 minutes of the film abandon some of the deeper motives that frankly, were weighing down plot: Reflecting on the structure and dynamics of male interpersonal bonding; the wooden courtship dance of Al and Kay; the struggles of soldiers returning home (This is not The Best Years of Our Lives, and Karlson is not William Wyler). Instead it returns to the director's strengths: quick action punctuated by drawn out tension; double crosses; gunplay; plots executed and foiled; chases down rain-soaked streets and shadowy alleys.

Personel Notes:

Screenplay by Stirling Siliphant:

Best known as the creator/writer of the TV series Route 66, he also wrote or consulted for 129 episodes of The Naked City and wrote 11 episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. In 1967, he won an Academy Award for his adaptation of In the Heat of the Night. His most infamous contribution to the screen, large or small may have been a work he did not produce. While scouting locations in Texas, he made a bet with insurance salesman Hal Warren over the possibility of making a low-budget feature. Warren took the challenge and created Manos: The Hands of Fate. So who won the bet? I don't know. I think we all lost.

Based on a story by Jack Finney, author of The Body Snatchers and Time and Again, a time-travel drama that has been stuck in development for decades.

Guy Madison:
Picked from the crowd of a radio show, Madison was the prototypical beefcake star—a clean-cut, All-American hero that stood in contrast to the post-war, rebellious, anti-heroes like Brando or Dean. His agent, Henry Wilson also discovered and promoted Rory Calhoun, Troy Donahue, Tab Hunter, John Saxon, Nick Adams, Robert Wagner, and most notably, Rock Hudson. Madison was married to Gail Russell, one of the saddest stories of all the reluctant starlets, she wound up drinking herself to death. Like many forgotten Western actors of the 50's, Madison's career found an unexpected second wind in European productions of the 60's.

Kim Novak:
This proved to be Novak's breakout role. After proving her box-office draw, roles in bigger productions, like Picnic, The Man with the Golden Arm, and Pal Joey quickly followed. Novak's "starhood" was developed under the heavy hand of Columbia studio boss Harry Cohn, whose public image management extended all the way to the color of her bathroom. Hollywood legend claims that the fatal heart attack struck Cohn down occurred after he read about Novak's affair with Sammy Davis Jr.

Brian Keith:
Perhaps born to be an actor, Keith's first role was at the age of two. He was no stranger to Hollywood tragedy either. His father was briefly married to Peg Enstwistle, the actress most well known for killing herself by diving from the "HOLLYWOOD" sign. After a successful film and TV career, Keith would wind up taking his own life at age 75. One of his daughters would do the same two months later.

John Gilbert

At his silent-era peak, John Gilbert rivaled the star power of even Valentino. By the time of his death in 1936, he was a has-been husk of an actor. Fallen victim of machinations both professional and personal, he is largely forgotten today.

Clean shaven with Fox...

As is the nature with any young and burgeoning industry, the motion-picture business in the teens was composing its customs and structures as it created itself. The now-well-worn paths that actors, directors, and writers take to succeed in Hollywood were still undeveloped. John Gilbert began his career as an extra, and made his way up through the industry by taking the unusual path of accepting writing and directing roles. His work got himself noticed by Fox Studios, who signed him to a three-year contract in 1921. In 1924, Gilbert moved to MGM, where he worked with esteemed directors such as Victor Sjöström, Erich von Stroheim, and King Vidor. 

and MGMustached.

It was also at MGM that Gilbert, began an on-again, off-again relationship with Greta Garbo (did she have any other kind?). They met while making Flesh and the Devil (1926). The studio capitalized on the relationship by casting them in two more silent features, Love (1927), and A Woman of Affairs (1928). In a story that has become mythologized as part of Hollywood legend, Garbo and Gilbert were to be married in a double ceremony along with friends King Vidor and Eleanor Boardman. Garbo never arrived at the ceremony. Wedding guest Louis B. Mayer reportedly told Gilbert, "What's the matter with you Gilbert? Don't marry her. Just fuck her and forget about her." Gilbert responded by flooring Mayer with one punch. The story makes great drama, but it was never confirmed. It packaged so many Hollywood archetypes—Garbo as the icy, callous, Scandinavian femme fatale who could never be tied to only one lover; Gilbert as the perfect fool who kept crawling back to her, mesmerized, for more punishment; Mayer as the boorish, vulgar ass everyone in Hollywood wanted to punch—perhaps the story was destined to become legend. Recently, writers have cast doubt on Garbo really jilting Gilbert at the altar, let alone the altercation afterward. Also, as in love with Garbo as he may have been, Gilbert was never the lonely, heartbroken sort. His first wife left him citing his compulsive philandering. Gilbert was also rumored to be a regular at Lee Francis' notorious Sunset Blvd brothel (Now the site of a restaurant co-owned by Ryan Seacrest and Tori Spelling. So marches progress). 

with Garbo

Regardless of the source of the friction, Mayer and Gilbert did not get along. Perhaps influenced by his background writing and directing, the artistically-minded Gilbert often clashed the bottom-line-conscious Mayer. Nevertheless, the two were yoked together in a six-picture-1.5 million dollar contract. Mayer may have purposely assigned Gilbert poor scripts and sub-par directors in an effort to get him to void the contract.

Gilbert's first speaking role was in the 1929 all-star variety act collection, The Hollywood Revue of 1929. He and Norma Shearer portrayed Romeo and Juliet's famous balcony scene, first traditionally, then in contemporary slang. Gilbert appeared to have crossed the talkie threshold with his career intact and audiences awaited to see his first feature-length sound picture. That film was the infamous His Glorious Night (1929). A weak script, filled with baroque dialogue more suited for a silent picture's interstitials, and an inexperienced director garnered only lukewarm reviews at best. Despite these faults, rumors perhaps started by Mayer, began to spread that the picture's greatest flaw was John Gilbert's voice. The charge has even been made that Mayer purposely had studio sound engineers manipulate Gilbert's pitch to make him sound comically shrill. 

Deserved or not, the blame stuck to Gilbert and marked the beginning of the end for his Hollywood career. Irving Thalberg managed to land Gilbert some choicer roles for his last few contractually-obligated films, but it was not enough to save his sinking reputation. 

In 1934, Gilbert was given one last break. MGM was negotiating with Garbo to star in Queen Christina. One of her conditions was the studio bring back Gilbert to play her lover. Was it a genuine attempt to help an old co-star? A calculated power-play in the game of contract negotiation? Or simply Garbo amusing herself by toying with the heart of an old flame? We may never know. The vagaries of Garbo's notorious romantic life were exceeded only by her inscrutable nature.

Nonetheless, it was not enough to save Gilbert's career, or the man himself. By 1934 his chronic drinking affected his health so severely he never made another film. Two years later, he died of a heart attack at age 38.