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.

Linda Darnell

A pretty and pleasant midwestern American girl. A mother consumed with the desire to push her daughter to attain all the fame and glamour she never found. If there's one common taproot among all the burned-out starlets, it's the obsessive, vicarious stage-mother. Linda Darnell was no exception. The young Linda (Monetta as she was known then) probably enjoyed the spotlight of department store modeling, small-market stage acting and beauty pageants—but, she probably also would have enjoyed a childhood of gradual personal development; of learning how to form healthy relationships with her peers; of moderated exposure to the world of adults. She probably would have enjoyed any childhood, period. But that's not the life Linda's mother Pearl made for her. At barely 14 years-old, her mother sent her to meet one of the Hollywood talent scouts who prospected middle America, looking for the next bit of coal who might stand up to the pressures of the star machine and come out a gem. She made enough of an impression on the scout to earn a screen test, but in a rare moment of moral rectitude, the studio, 20th Century Fox, sent her home for being too young. But alas, only a year later Fox felt no sting of compunction when they signed Darnell to a contract when rival RKO expressed interest in her.

15-years-old and sent to Hollywood. Alone. Darnell posed as 17. Fox billed her as 19. Not that the ruse lasted long, and not that anyone really cared. Her true age of 16 was revealed in 1939, the same year a Life magazine article (bookended by whiskey ads) declared her "the most physically perfect girl in Hollywood".

Mommy Dearest

1940 began with a string of successes for Darnell, beginning with Star Dust, the tale of a beautiful young girl discovered by a talent scout but rejected for being too young—at 17 she was already parodying herself. Audiences and critics both approved of her performances, particularly when teamed up with Tyrone Power. Her mother, however, was harder to please. By now, Pearl had followed her daughter west and was starting to make a name for herself as well with her overbearing on-set behavior. She made news by claiming her husband was having an incestuous relationship with another daughter, a charge Linda disbelieved. After the ensuing private fallout, Pearl turned against her in the press.

By 1941, the fickle tastes of movie audiences began to change. Perhaps in an era when a studio could put out scores features annually, the public felt oversaturated with her. Or maybe by turning 18, the novelty of a child leading lady disappeared. When coupled with her refusal of studio head Darryl F. Zanuck's lecherous advances, the result was the abrupt cool-down of her career. Darnell only made one picture in 1942. That same year she began receiving anonymous letters demanding money under threat of physical harm. The would-be extortionist turned out to be a 17-year-old high school student. Zanuck loaned her out to Columbia for a forgettable B-movie and put her on formal suspension in 1943 when she eloped in Vegas with cameraman J. Peverell Marley.

But professionally, Darnell endured. Still in the prime years of a young actress, she took supporting roles in low-budget productions, and eventually her talent as well as her beauty were recognized and the studio brought her back to A-pictures. In 1945, Zanuck had her added to the cast of the Otto Preminger noir Fallen Angel. Zanuck's pressure to cut star Alice Faye's screentime in favor of Darnell eventually prompted Faye to drive off the studio lot and leave the movies entirely for 17 years. Darnell, who no co-worker ever spoke poorly of, reportedly had a difficult time working with the notoriously severe Preminger.

In private, Linda's life would reach Douglas Sirk levels of melodrama. Marley introduced her to his good friend, alcohol, who would also serve as her companion for years to come. Another baleful bedfellow Darnell would make around this time was Howard Hughes. Falling for him, Linda separated from Marley and convinced herself Hughes would marry her. When Hughes made clear he had no intentions of doing so, Darnell canceled the divorce proceedings.

Linda preferred RC Cola...

In 1947, Darnell was cast in the highly-anticipated Forever Amber, a $6 million picture likened to the production of Gone with the Wind, again, helmed by Preminger. Though not eager to work with him again, she took the coveted role, and paid for it physically. The director's overbearing manner, the long hours, studio-required weight losses, and increased drinking led to multiple collapses. Despite prosperity at the box-office, Forever Amber was not the one thing Linda wanted most of all, a critical success.

1949's A Letter to Three Wives was yet another double-edged sword Darnell managed to fall upon. A commercial and critical success, the film brought her capital when bargaining with the studio over roles. It also introduced her to writer/director Joseph L. Mankiewicz. Linda would carry on an affair with Mankiewicz for six years and would again separate and return to her husband after her paramour refused to marry her. Drinking, depression, a suicide attempt, and the stifled hostility she felt since childhood led to psychotherapy. All of this coincided with a lawsuit against a former manager who stole thousands from her.

Back at Fox, for her next role, Darnell chose the lead in the controversial Pinky, a film about a light-skinned black southerner who passes for white in the North. Zanuck quashed this possibility and cast Linda's Three Wives co-star Jeanne Crain instead. Crain's performance would be nominated for an Academy Award, a recognition Darnell would never see.

...and Tab.

The 50's were not kind to actors without the protection of a long-term contract. Competition from TV was the main impetus for studios to cut back, and expendable actors were the first to go. Darnell maintained employed, but the roles she had to choose from thinned. Despite a horse allergy, she made westerns. Despite her desire to be commended for her acting, she took glamour roles. And despite him, she even agreed to work with the dreaded Preminger again. With a new contract in 1951, she gained the option to freelance. Thinking freedom from the studio system would offer new opportunities, she found being released from premiere productions also meant leaving behind premiere salaries. These lower-budget studios were also far from the tight ship ran by the big producers only a decade prior and would often fall behind schedule. Her drinking, illnesses and weight gains also made her less employable.

Returning to the US after several pictures made abroad (including a Howard Hughes-produced 3-D film shot in Mexico) and divorced from Marley, Darnell believed she has secured the lead in The Barefoot Contessa, a dramatic vehicle that would return her career to its heights and reunite her with Mankiewicz. She was wrong on both accounts: Ava Gardner would take the role and the affair ended. Darnell would marry three more times, including a brief and loveless marriage-in-name-only with a brewery heir.

After 1955, Darnell returned to Fox, which had started producing television. There she averaged about three "Television Playhouse"-style productions per year as well as the sporadic B-picture. By 1965, the pace of Linda's career had slowed to only one TV credit and one film credit in the last six years. Was she "taking a break"? Or did Hollywood stop calling? The answer, as usual, probably lied somewhere in between.

1965 also found Linda in Skokie, Ill, visiting a former personal assistant while preparing for a regional stage production. In a callback finale only Hollywood could provide, she spent the night of April 9th watching her 1940 film Star Dust on TV. The vultures would later claim she fell asleep, drunk, despondent, and dreaming of days gone by while an unwatched cigarette smoldered. There's no proof her carelessness led to the blaze that night, but the rags couldn't resist such pathos. Darnell was burned over 90% of her body and the next day, all of 41 years old, succumbed to her injuries.