One of the must-sees out of the films produced by Robert Lippert in partnership with UK's Hammer studios. Taking advantage of arrangements favoured by the UK's Eady levy (a state film subsidy established after the war) in 1950, the producer formed a business alliance under which he would provide American acting talent - frequently shop-worn stars or just supporting actors who fancied a profitable trip out of the country - while Hammer would supply the rest of the cast and the production facilities. Together they would split the profits. Famous for his concern with the bottom line, Lippert produced over 140 films between 1946 and 1955, characteristically genre pieces such as I Shot Jesse James or Rocketship XM. For the British deal, most of the films were noir-ish thrillers. None were entirely of the first rank, but they remain never less than entertaining.
Noir narratives set in and around carnivals have a small but proud heritage, stretching back to Nightmare Alley and beyond. They frequently juxtapose deformed outcasts of the sideshow with the twisted psychology on show elsewhere. The Glass Tomb concerns Pal Pelham (John Ireland), and his forthcoming attraction Sapolio 'The Starving Man', whose act is to go foodless for 70 days whilst locked, Blaine-like, in a glass booth. "I like being my own boss. I like freaks," says Pal at one point, clearly preferring the company of his performers to some others around him. When big-hearted bookie Tony Lewis (Sidney James, a characteristic performance) asks Pal to speak to a woman who has been blackmailing him, she shortly ends up dead, and the killer thinks Sapolio can identify him. Pal, who previously knew the victim, needs to solve the case. Geoffrey Keen, much more familiar to British cinema-goers from numerous stolid establishment roles, gets to play an unsympathetic role as Stanton the murderer.
What's interesting about The Glass Tomb is that it is built almost entirely around recurring displays of appetite and denial. Whether it's Sapolio, greedy at home, and finally poisoned by strychnine-covered ham, or the fridge raid of Pelham's young son, the ticket-booth man secretly coveting his bottle of booze, then those who eat so unconcernedly in front of the incarcerated Starving Man, it's a world clearly defined. At a necessarily less explicit level there's also the carnal desire of Stanton and Lewis for the girl - Stanton's two hours alone with her corpse, for instance, is never explained. Tully manages some striking scenes on a budget, notably the performer's party, held while the body of the freshly killed girl lays undiscovered upstairs in her squalid room. The Glass Tomb has its weaknesses - it could have done with a few more freaks - but is baroque and perverse enough to be better known. Ireland gives an adequate performance, and Honor Blackman, in a demure role, plays his wife. Some will also notice Arthur Howard, the brother of Leslie, later to appear in the minor British nudie cult item Paradisio (1961) in a small part. Part of the Hammer Noir box set series where it enjoys audio commentary.
Noir narratives set in and around carnivals have a small but proud heritage, stretching back to Nightmare Alley and beyond. They frequently juxtapose deformed outcasts of the sideshow with the twisted psychology on show elsewhere. The Glass Tomb concerns Pal Pelham (John Ireland), and his forthcoming attraction Sapolio 'The Starving Man', whose act is to go foodless for 70 days whilst locked, Blaine-like, in a glass booth. "I like being my own boss. I like freaks," says Pal at one point, clearly preferring the company of his performers to some others around him. When big-hearted bookie Tony Lewis (Sidney James, a characteristic performance) asks Pal to speak to a woman who has been blackmailing him, she shortly ends up dead, and the killer thinks Sapolio can identify him. Pal, who previously knew the victim, needs to solve the case. Geoffrey Keen, much more familiar to British cinema-goers from numerous stolid establishment roles, gets to play an unsympathetic role as Stanton the murderer.
What's interesting about The Glass Tomb is that it is built almost entirely around recurring displays of appetite and denial. Whether it's Sapolio, greedy at home, and finally poisoned by strychnine-covered ham, or the fridge raid of Pelham's young son, the ticket-booth man secretly coveting his bottle of booze, then those who eat so unconcernedly in front of the incarcerated Starving Man, it's a world clearly defined. At a necessarily less explicit level there's also the carnal desire of Stanton and Lewis for the girl - Stanton's two hours alone with her corpse, for instance, is never explained. Tully manages some striking scenes on a budget, notably the performer's party, held while the body of the freshly killed girl lays undiscovered upstairs in her squalid room. The Glass Tomb has its weaknesses - it could have done with a few more freaks - but is baroque and perverse enough to be better known. Ireland gives an adequate performance, and Honor Blackman, in a demure role, plays his wife. Some will also notice Arthur Howard, the brother of Leslie, later to appear in the minor British nudie cult item Paradisio (1961) in a small part. Part of the Hammer Noir box set series where it enjoys audio commentary.