Plot-- A slippery mastermind recruits a crew of failed bohemians from a beatnik coffee house. The target is an armored car with a million dollar cargo, and an escape aboard a train. It's all planned out with split-second precision.
Another mediocre heist film trying to emulate the start-up success of Kubrick's The Killing (1956). This one's undone on a number of levels, including spotty acting (a weak Palmer in a central role), slack direction (fails to heighten plot high points), and a leaky script (a number of plot holes). Plus, that opening beatnik scene is more like a spoof than a mood-setting suspenser. At least there's the notorious Vicki Dougan as the waitress. Her way of getting Hollywood attention was to show cleavage from the backside instead of the more usual front. Judging from her credits, it didn't work.
On the other hand, the climax is action-filled with a good look at LA's elaborate train yards. However, I'm still wondering why men crawl under freight cars when they might start up any moment. Too bad that the characterizations never get enough chance to gel. As a result, there's not much sense of irony or loss at movie's end. Instead the story simply plays out in impersonally remote fashion. And that's a problem with the movie as a whole, which I guess is a good reason why the 72-minutes has remained buried in 1950's vaults.
(In passing—the "beatnik" fad was brief, mainly 1958 & '59 on the west coast, and mainly a bohemian reaction to suburban conformity of the Eisenhower years. My guess is the stylistic change of the 1960 Kennedy election undercut the novelty appeal.)
Another mediocre heist film trying to emulate the start-up success of Kubrick's The Killing (1956). This one's undone on a number of levels, including spotty acting (a weak Palmer in a central role), slack direction (fails to heighten plot high points), and a leaky script (a number of plot holes). Plus, that opening beatnik scene is more like a spoof than a mood-setting suspenser. At least there's the notorious Vicki Dougan as the waitress. Her way of getting Hollywood attention was to show cleavage from the backside instead of the more usual front. Judging from her credits, it didn't work.
On the other hand, the climax is action-filled with a good look at LA's elaborate train yards. However, I'm still wondering why men crawl under freight cars when they might start up any moment. Too bad that the characterizations never get enough chance to gel. As a result, there's not much sense of irony or loss at movie's end. Instead the story simply plays out in impersonally remote fashion. And that's a problem with the movie as a whole, which I guess is a good reason why the 72-minutes has remained buried in 1950's vaults.
(In passing—the "beatnik" fad was brief, mainly 1958 & '59 on the west coast, and mainly a bohemian reaction to suburban conformity of the Eisenhower years. My guess is the stylistic change of the 1960 Kennedy election undercut the novelty appeal.)