What a cast. Gene Nelson is an ex con trying to go straight in LA. His wife if Phyllis Kirk. And then, out of the blue, Nelson answers the door and a fellow inmate (Nedrick Young) from San Quention walks in and drops dead of a gunshot wound. The visitor is one of a trio of goons who have broken out of Question and are making their way down to the Mexican border, pulling small hold ups along the way just for eating money. Young is followed in short order by the other two -- Ted DeCorsia and Charles Bronson. Nelson and Kirk are held hostage and Nelson is forced to take part in a bank robbery, leaving Kirk back in the apartment as insurance, guarded lovingly by the tender Timothy Carey.
All this time, of course, the cops haven't been sitting around playing switch. Oh, no. They can connect the dots and Lieutenant Sims (Sterling Hayden) is hot on their trail.
Farther down the list of cast credits we see other familiar names -- Dub Taylor, Fritz Feld, Jay Novello, Hank Warden. Some day I may rest satisfied if someone will explain to me how Hank Warden ever managed to carve out a twenty-year career in the movie industry in the absence of any thespian talent whatever. I mean, seriously, what does success require -- a bald head? I'm working on that myself.
There is occasionally some evocative location shooting in L.A. The final scene takes place on a rainy street under a nice gray overcast. I wish the dialog or the story or the direction had had something to recommend it. But the lines are hard-boiled and flat, without any color. The story is pulp. The direction (Andre de Toth) is routine. A suspenseful car chase puts the actors in mock-up cars, sitting behind steering wheels attached to nothing, with rear projection shivering on the other side of the windows. The performers can do nothing but sit and stare blankly into the camera and the most exciting thing about the scene is the occasional bump in the road. Compare these in-car scenes with Nicholas Ray's in "They Live By Night." The award for best actor in this routine drama goes to -- envelope, please. Yes! TIMOTHY CAREY. As O'Keefe, the grinning, retarded avatar who is left in charge of the fragile Phyllis Kirk while the bank heist is going on! Unfortunately, Timothy is not only no longer with us but wouldn't have been able to speak anyway, his jaw having been wired so that he wears the most fulsome, the most baleful, the toothiest grin known to man or beast -- especially beast. We can all be glad that Carey was disabled before he was able to do serious damage to Phyllis Kirk's hair do. She went on to do considerable charity later in her life.
All this time, of course, the cops haven't been sitting around playing switch. Oh, no. They can connect the dots and Lieutenant Sims (Sterling Hayden) is hot on their trail.
Farther down the list of cast credits we see other familiar names -- Dub Taylor, Fritz Feld, Jay Novello, Hank Warden. Some day I may rest satisfied if someone will explain to me how Hank Warden ever managed to carve out a twenty-year career in the movie industry in the absence of any thespian talent whatever. I mean, seriously, what does success require -- a bald head? I'm working on that myself.
There is occasionally some evocative location shooting in L.A. The final scene takes place on a rainy street under a nice gray overcast. I wish the dialog or the story or the direction had had something to recommend it. But the lines are hard-boiled and flat, without any color. The story is pulp. The direction (Andre de Toth) is routine. A suspenseful car chase puts the actors in mock-up cars, sitting behind steering wheels attached to nothing, with rear projection shivering on the other side of the windows. The performers can do nothing but sit and stare blankly into the camera and the most exciting thing about the scene is the occasional bump in the road. Compare these in-car scenes with Nicholas Ray's in "They Live By Night." The award for best actor in this routine drama goes to -- envelope, please. Yes! TIMOTHY CAREY. As O'Keefe, the grinning, retarded avatar who is left in charge of the fragile Phyllis Kirk while the bank heist is going on! Unfortunately, Timothy is not only no longer with us but wouldn't have been able to speak anyway, his jaw having been wired so that he wears the most fulsome, the most baleful, the toothiest grin known to man or beast -- especially beast. We can all be glad that Carey was disabled before he was able to do serious damage to Phyllis Kirk's hair do. She went on to do considerable charity later in her life.