More Schlock than ‘Shock Treatment’ 1964

 

Stuart Whitman stars in 1964's "Shock Treatment." Whitman reminds me of a young
 Colin Farrell here, in this tawdry thriller set in a sanitarium.  

Shock Treatment is one of those “all-star cast in cinema confinement” flicks! Usually presented as pulling back the curtain on what really goes on behind prison/sanitarium bars, movies like this were really an excuse to depict lurid sex and violence. There's often someone in the clink or cuckoo’s nest that isn't really guilty or crazy. The roll call of stereotypes goes something like this: the lead who’s either been framed or has ulterior motives to get inside; the gorgeous young woman who's either frigid or a nympho; the child-like lunatic; the Blanche DuBois type, living in delusions of grandeur; the seemingly normal patient who turns on a dime; and the tough female in charge. This one lacks the idealistic young man or woman who tries to change things, since Shock Treatment is more of a suspense movie than an expose of the system. 

***Spoiler alert of this film's plot cliches ahead!***

Roddy McDowall played the boyishly sensitive pyscho as many times as Anthony Perkins. Roddy is Martin, the gaga gardener who knows where the money's hidden!

Roddy McDowall is Martin, the maniac man-child. Roddy always seemed in a contest with Anthony Perkins to see who could play the most quirky neurotics. It’s amusing that Martin was let out of the asylum, where he uses one of his gardening tools on his witchy employer, and when he’s sent back for decapitating her, guess his therapy of choice—gardening!

Stuart Whitman plays a thea-tah actor hired to act crazy and get sent to a sanitarium. 
Why? To find out where a real crazy hid a million dollars, in "Shock Treatment."

Stuart Whitman is the hotshot actor, Dale Nelson, who breaks into the sanitarium, pretends he's crazy, and then can't get out! Nelson is hired by the decapitated dowager’s estate lawyer to find out where Martin hid her money. Whitman’s antics to convince as crazy would suggest that his character studied acting at the William Shatner School of Dramatic Arts.

Whitman's actor pretends to be a flower expert to get on McDowall's
insane gardener's good side, in 1964's "Shock Treatment."

Whitman looks a lot older than 36, especially opposite china doll Carol Lynley, 22 at the time. Roddy McDowall was the same age as Whitman, but he still looked quite boyish. Stuart Whitman also reminded me a lot of Colin Farrell. Roddy and Stuart’s characters bond at the sanitarium over flowers, after an initial war of the roses. Carol Lynley is her usual wan, doll-like self as Cynthia, the neurotic/nympho. Of course, despite being a man with a mission in a nuthouse, Whitman’s character still finds time to pursue Lynley’s hot and cold miss.

Though Carol Lynley's Cynthia is diagnosed as bi-polar, Whitman's Dale pursues her.
 Perhaps the challenge of romancing a woman who's both frigid AND a nympho?

Lauren Bacall is the Nurse Ratched type, Dr. Edwina Beighley, who goes from coolly efficient to cuckoo. The doctor takes Martin back not because she cares about his well-being, but because she wants to know where’s the money. Yes, Bacall’s Edwina goes off her nut when she finds out her financial scheme about Martin was all for naught. Let’s just say that the doctor’s dreams for research big bucks ends up as burnt offerings!

Guess who's running this joint? Lauren Bacall as brisk Dr. Beighley
in 1964's "Shock Treatment." 

Bacalls’s Edwina gets led away from the scene of the crime like Kate Hepburn’s Violet Venable in Suddenly, Last Summer. The same courtroom staff has to endure another nut who wants to plead their own case. Bacall’s delusional doc defends herself ala Bogie’s Captain Queeg, ranting and slapping desktops!

Lauren Bacall's doctor's dreams of financial security have literally gone up in smoke,
in 1964's "Shock Treatment."

The final scene is a hoot, with Betty bitching to herself about the billing hours, while the other patients look on, and stars Whitman and Lynley leaving the cuckoo’s nest, viewed on the other side of the fence. I love Bacall’s constant billing bitch:  “Thirty one separate hours!”

Love the side-eye that Olive Deering gives Lauren Bacall, as her now-demented
doctor rehashes her neuroses ad nauseum! Note Carol Lynley & Stuart Whitman
getting the hell out of this nuthouse & nutty movie! And what sanitarium movie
would be complete without a patient pretending a doll is her baby?

 Betty was not enough of an actress to go beyond her pragmatic, snarky persona, though it's amusing to watch her try. Let’s just say this wasn’t the “High Point” of Bacall’s career. Shock Treatment is very cartoonish, yet watchable, but most definitely a decaffeinated thriller!

Were Stuart Whitman, Roddy McDowall, & Ossie Davis trying to look optimistic about the box office chances of 1964's "Shock Treatment?"

The photography by Sam Leavitt is excellent, almost noir-like. His work ran from I Love Lucy to Anatomy of a Murder, and he won three Oscar nominations. And Jerry Goldsmith’s score adds to the scariness.

At least over-acting Stuart Whitman looks better with his shirt off than
William Shatner, in 1964's "Shock Treatment."

The resulting quality of Shock Treatment is not the fault of the cast, as they are given clichés to play but do their best. The film’s script is horrible, a glorified “B” movie, bolstered by the stars and production values.

Check out Lauren Bacall in another sanitarium cinema effort, where she’s an art therapist in 1955’s The Cobweb here:  https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2019/01/its-curtains-for-cobweb-1955.html

That's much stronger stuff than "High Point" in Dr. Lauren Bacall's hypodermic,
in 1964's "Shock Treatment."

 

 

 

'Bunny Lake is Missing' 1965

"Bunny Lake is Missing" is an atmospheric, but ultimately unsatisfying suspense thriller.

Bunny Lake is Missing is one of those flawed or fake—depending on your point of view—cinematic gems from the ‘60s, such as Marnie or Reflections in a Golden Eye. Or a rediscovered treasure, if you’re a revisionist. For me, while there’s much to recommend about Bunny Lake, the 1965 suspense film misses the mark.

Director Otto Preminger was a master of creating cinematic mood, his strong suit here. Bunny Lake begins with Saul Bass’ strikingly simple titles, over Paul Glass’ melancholy score. The set-up is powerfully simple: an American mother in London drops her four-year-old daughter at school; upon her return, nobody there has actually seen Bunny. The big question becomes: Has Bunny gone bye-bye or is this woman cray-cray?

Carol Lynley as the distraught mother and Keir Dullea is her supportive brother.

The leads are played by two perennial ingénues from the ‘60s. Carol Lynley, famed for lip-synching “The Morning After” in hot pants in The Poseidon Adventure, is Ann Lake. Keir Dullea, famous for dueling wits with Hal in 2001: A Space Odyssey is her brother Steven. Two of England’s most revered theatrical greats support the brother-sister act: Laurence Olivier is the detective determined to get at the truth and Noel Coward plays Ann Lake’s nutty new landlord.

Latter day Laurence Olivier seems uncharacteristically subdued in 'Bunny Lake,' but who wouldn't compared to flamboyant Noel Coward?

Once the cops are called and the investigation begins, Bunny Lake deflates instead of escalates. Preminger, who had a tendency toward the over-the-top showmanship, like stunt casting and titillating stories, uses diversionary tactics here. Since the villain is obvious and revealed early, there’s nowhere for the story to go. So, Preminger takes Lynley’s character and audiences on a joy ride via several set pieces that, while eerily effective, are a smokescreen for the lack of actual plot. Supporting characters, who range from quirky to bizarre, offer atmosphere but are really just red herrings.

Noel Coward is Lynley's nutty landlord and alleged ladies man!

First, Ann Lake and her brother Steven find the founder of the school stashed away, living on the third floor. She is played by Martita Hunt, memorable as Miss Havisham in David Lean’s Great Expectations. Apparently, Otto thought it would be an homage hoot to cast her as the dotty ex-school teacher, rattling on about recording children’s dreams and nightmares.

Back at home, Ann’s scenes with the lecherous landlord, an elderly poet crassly putting the make on the distressed mother, feels like a badly told dirty joke.

Lynley as Ann Lake, looking for her daughter, and here, her doll.

Bunny’s belongings seem to have gone missing, too. To prove that Bunny is real, Ann impulsively goes into downtown London on a busy night to retrieve a doll that’s under repair. Her visit to the “doll hospital” is eerie—of course! The owner appears to be out of his mind, and also electricity, since Ann is forced to look for her doll with a kerosene lamp. How dramatic for the distraught mother, to look for her doll among hundreds of others, by lamp light.

China doll Lynley’s character ends up in a hospital herself and her escape is almost as creepy as the doll’s rest home. These scenes all feel like detours, a delay to an absurd showdown.

Saul Bass created many memorable opening credits, several for  Otto Preminger films.

What makes Bunny Lake worth watching despite its shortcomings is the talent involved. Husband and wife screenwriting team John and Penelope Mortimer try hard to create suspense in a story where even the source material was stumped for a plausible resolution. Aside from Saul Bass’ brilliant titles and Paul Glass’ score, Denys N. Coop’s cinematography captures not only the mood, but 1960s London beautifully. One of Otto Preminger’s strengths as a director was his later preference for shooting entirely on location, with as few sets as possible. I wonder what Alfred Hitchcock’s more stylized storytelling, with his in-studio visual effects, would have made of this story. Interestingly, Preminger moved ‘65’s Bunny Lake’s story from New York City to London and Hitchcock transplanted ‘64’s Marnie from England to East Coast America.

MAD magazine's parody of 'Bunny Lake is Missing' nails all of its nagging flaws.

Bunny Lake is Missing is another of those films that was a failure upon its release, but now has revisionist fans and critics who claim it is an unappreciated masterpiece, much like Marnie. True, many films are underappreciated in their time and just as many hit films of their era now seem overrated. Movie-watching is a personal experience, but I read over-the-top accolades for famously uneven films or infamously lackluster actors with amused disbelief. I wonder if film historians/writers have been mining the same celluloid territory for so long that there’s nothing new to write about. Watching with rose-colored glasses, they try to convince everyone—and themselves—that a movie lemon is actually a cool cinematic drink of lemonade.

The Lake siblings seem very close, even at bath time!

Now, I can appreciate a film’s virtues, even if the parts do not add up to a satisfying whole. Despite being in perverse awe of its stupefying flaws, I am intrigued by Hitchcock’s Marnie. John Huston’s Reflections in a Golden Eye and Joseph Losey’s Secret Ceremony are two other ‘60s psychological dramas that while uneven, offer stunning visuals, strong performances, and a fine sense of dread. However, I don’t mistake them for unsung classics, but think that film “failures” can be just as fascinating as cinema classics.

Carol Lynley and Keir Dullea: Lovely to look at, listless to watch.

While researching this film, I noticed that today’s champions of Bunny Lake is Missing are noticeably silent about the stars’ performances. Though bolstered by an excellent cast of British character actors, the lead performances in Bunny Lake range from bland to bananas. Carol and Keir, as sister and brother, with their huge blue eyes and angelic features, are lovely to look at. But their acting is wan, shallow, and a bit precious, which may be why neither starlet sustained a noteworthy film career. Latter day Laurence Olivier is usually pure ham, but here, Larry walks through this like a sleepwalker instead of a sleuth. Noel Coward makes up for that, as the landlord, Wilson. Coward is so flamboyant that he should be hitting on Keir, not Carol. Still, Noel hit on Dullea in his own way, with his renowned wit. When asked about the actor in an interview, Coward famously replied: “Keir Dullea, gone tomorrow!”

The biggest mystery of this movie is why British pop group The Zombies got co-starring billing when they only appear as themselves—on a pub television set.

Bunny Lake is Missing has atmosphere and A-team talent to spare—the only real thing missing is a story.

Headscratcher: The Zombies get co-star credit for this appearance in 'Bunny Lake!'