Crime & Punishment, USA

To begin with, I almost did not acquire this when I chanced upon it, since the film does not have much of a reputation; even so, it has recently been released on DVD-R as part of Warners' "Archive Collection", running 96 minutes (like the version I watched) rather than 78 as listed on the IMDb! In any case, the result is undeniably gripping (given the source material) and decidedly accomplished (in spite of the obvious low budget) – with gleaming cinematography by Floyd Crosby and a jazzy score by Herschel Burke Gilbert.

Best of all, the performances (notably, as always, the arrogant protagonist and his wily nemesis) are reasonably impressive. George Hamilton (being nominated for a BAFTA award in his film debut) kind of channels Anthony Perkins here, and it is unfortunate that he would soon forsake such thoughtful roles for sophisticated (and, in the long run, superficial) ones. Frank Silvera plays his pivotal cop role as something of a buffoon; Mary Murphy's character, then, does not shy away from discussing her sordid 'profession'; while John Harding appears as the seducer of the hero's sister. Incidentally, Hamilton's scenes with the latter two are only slightly less compelling than his confrontations with Silvera (established in previous cinematic renditions as the novel's centerpiece).

As the title suggests, Dostoyevsky's morality tale has been updated to modern-day America: curiously, it eschews the pivotal figure of the pawnbroker entirely (though we are still told why the murder was committed) – indeed, the narrative here starts off with the arrest of the painter! Still, the victim's essentially disagreeable characteristics are transferred onto the afore-mentioned Harding – which seemed unnecessary at first, but this does generate an intriguing complicity between the two murderers…paid off, most effectively, in ironical fashion when the student ultimately confesses because he believes the other fellow killed himself out of remorse when it was over rejection!

In the end, the film is pretentious (boasting a powerful script by Walter Newman), with a tendency towards sleaze; that said, this mature approach is quite redolent of the transitional period in which it was made – being entrenched somewhere between studio-system Hollywood and the 'movie brats' generation. For the record, this was also director Sanders' first effort, of whose later work I have watched (and own) WAR HUNT (1962), ELVIS: THAT'S THE WAY IT IS (1970/2000) and INVASION OF THE BEE GIRLS (1973); besides, I have just acquired THE American WEST OF JOHN FORD (1971; TV) and am interested in ONE MAN'S WAY and SHOCK TREATMENT (both 1964).

This is the kind of film, which you wonder how it ever got made, but in a good way. It seems to be the result of either a very low budget or some real out of the box thinking to transfer Dostoyevsky's classic to contemporary Los Angeles. Yet somehow the cinematography showing the seedy underbelly of sunny Southern California is perfectly evocative of the kind of desperation, want and need in the original novel.

George Hamilton, never a very convincing dramatic actor, does well in his first starring role as the murderer who can't resist teasing the inspector who seems to know from the beginning that Hamilton is guilty, in a plot device with another reviewer compared to Colombo. The final dénouement will be well known to readers of the novel or viewers of prior versions of the film.

The supporting cast is uniformly good, especially Frank Silvera as the police inspector and John Harding who plays Hamilton's sister's seducer. The jazz soundtrack adds to the dissonance and confusion of the lead character as he tries to evade discovery, while flirting with it at the same time. The film has a vibe similar to "Odds Against Tomorrow."

Clearly, this film wouldn't be for everybody. But I think that followers of the novel, which is still a great read whether or not, you've read it once or four times, will appreciate that whatever led the producers to transfer the setting to Southern California, and budget considerations or not, did an immense service to the novel by putting it in the glare and scrutiny of a dry, parched, California summer, where, instead of beach and sand and surf, that usually accompanies such scenery, you see desolate parking lots, cheap motels, and urban squalor as background to the characters and their melodramatic conflicts.

I think if you view this movie with an open mind, you will find it as unusual and fascinating as I did. Adaptations like this are rare enough. Of course, we are used to such stories been told on PBS with English actors with British accents playing the lead roles. Here you see that in America, we can update a classic and still keep it fascinating and current.

This is a very good adaptation of Dostoevsky's novel. The actors all gave solid performances, and the script captures the essence of an investigation into a crime that will depend on not on physical evidence, or finding a witness, but on a psychological campaign by the police detective, as he seeks to get a crack his suspect. As George Hamilton's Robert fences with Frank Silvera's Inspector Porter, he tries to come to terms with his own guilt and fear. In the end, it resolves wonderfully, with Robert coming to terms with his actions and deciding how to live them.

The low budget for the film seems to have been a benefit in this case. The seedy Southern California landscapes give a feel of desperation that makes the initial crime believable, and makes Robert's desire to escape it understandable. And the 'cheapness' fits the small cast, and the film's concentration on a few characters, intensifying the psychological pressure Robert is feeling.

Really well done, and I highly recommend it.

I haven't seen this movie for more years than I care to remember. It was released accompanied by sensationalistic contemporary tag lines -- "Beatniks! Rebels!" -- partly because George Hamilton is seen playing the bongos once in a while. Yet, it has stuck in my memory. It really was an unusual film.

First of all, Dostoyevsky is rather awkwardly superimposed on a story involving residents of modern L.A. The novel doesn't quite fit on the setting. People have serious conversations about God and the afterlife. Okay for a 19th-cntury Rusian novel -- but sunny California? Home of the Fountain of the World Cult?

And it always bothered me about the novel that everyone in Petersberg seems to be acquainted with everyone else. It was a bit difficult to swallow that proposition in the novel; it is absolutely impossible for that to have been true in L.A. circa 1960, the most anomic community on the face of the planet. But instead of being an irritation, the lack of fit between the plot and its contemporary setting lends the film an unquiet, almost surreal quality. Something is off kilter and we don't know exactly what. We squirm with bemusement.

Two points ought to be made. The movie must have been shot on the cheap. In this case, it inadvertently helps. We are given a tour of the seedier sections of L.A. -- railroad tracks, refuse dumps, shabby housing -- that a better-funded film would probably have avoided. Instead of Echo Park we get a slum. This is commonplace now, but it wasn't at the time. It's too bad nobody in California seems to know what a genuine slum looks like. Here it's all a sun-drenched, palm-fronded, flower-strewn paradise, however desecrated. They should have set it in Newark. And they needn't have used high-key lighting so consistently. It looks like an early television sitcom.

Second, the acting is actually quite good. I am even willing to forgive George Hamilton's handsomeness. (He's always been willing to poke fun at himself anyway.) Mary Murphy is not the young naif she played in "The Wild One." She's not exactly a hooker either, as she was in the novel. In 1960 neither audiences nor agents of social control were prepared for that. But she is a serious kind of easy lay, which was still saying a lot. Best of all is Frank Silvera. The smooth admirable way in which he insinuates himself into Robert's life. The cat and mouse repartee. The wondering expression on his face, his amazement that Hamilton has not yet caught on, as he tells him who committed the murder -- "Why YOU did, Robert."

I don't know how I would respond to the movie now, lo, these many years later. But, crude as it is, it's not just a shoddy ripoff of a famous psychological drama. It would be a mistake to think so. If all the elements of the film are amateurish, as in a high school play, the people involved seem to be hitting the right notes by accident. This is worth catching, a real curiosity.

In California, Robert Cole (George Hamilton) collapses in front of the cops. He buries the evidence of his crime, but a dying man may have seen him. He takes the man back home to Sally. He had written an article stating that certain superior people can break the law which comes to the notice of the police. He is brought in for an interview.

This opens on Pacific Ocean Park in Santa Monica. The most fascinating part of this B-crime movie may be the locations. It's great to see the old California with all the oil rigs. It does have a young George Hamilton as the lead. He's fine, but he's never been a great actor. I wanted this to start as a darker noir crime thriller. Robert should leave the man to die on the side of the road. That's the darker start. It's interesting that Robert has his views. Otherwise, the plot drags and I don't really care about him. This is not as compelling as it should be.