“Annabel.” An episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (Season 1, Episode 7). First air date: 1 November 1962. Dean Stockwell, Susan Oliver, Kathleen Nolan, Bert Remsen. Teleplay: Robert Bloch, based on the novel This Sweet Sickness (1960) by Patricia Highsmith. Director: Paul Henreid.

   David Kelsey (Dean Stockwell), outwardly a fairly normal if brilliant individual, is leading a double life, assuming two different identities.

   He also has a case of unrequited love for Annabel Delaney (Susan Oliver), who is already married to a man who’s getting angrier and angrier; while David, in turn, hardly notices Linda Brennan (Kathleen Nolan), herself another case of unfulfilled desire. Ultimately, something’s got to give — and it does, violently ….

   Stockwell’s character is very much in Patricia Highsmith’s Talented Mr. Ripley mold: insensitive, narcissistic, warped, and capable of almost anything.

   Dean Stockwell’s huge list of screen credits includes Home, Sweet Homicide (1946), Song of the Thin Man (1947), Compulsion (1959), two episodes of Columbo, one Ellery Queen (1975), 97 episodes of Quantum Leap (1989-1993), and 15 appearances on the Battlestar Galactica reboot (2006-09).

   Susan Oliver did a lot of TV starting in the ’50s; sci-fi enthusiasts remember her from the Star Trek pilot film. She had a long run on the Peyton Place soaper, two appearances each on The Name of the Game and Murder, She Wrote — and she was also a superiior pilot.

   As for Robert Bloch: Psycho — ’nuff said.

Hulu:   http://www.imdb.com/video/hulu/vi1071120409/

“Don’t Look Behind You.” An episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (Season 1, Episode 2). First air date: 27 September 1962. Jeffrey Hunter, Vera Miles, Abraham Sofaer, Dick Sargent, Alf Kjellin, Ralph Roberts, Mary Scott, Madge Kennedy. Teleplay:
Barré Lyndon, based on a novel by Samuel Rogers. Director: John Brahm.

   Daphne (Vera Miles) is late for a dinner date and, like Little Red Riding Hood, decides to take a shortcut through the woods, which almost proves fatal because a serial killer is stalking her.

   She does make it unmolested, however. Within the next few minutes after her arrival, no fewer than four men show up at the party. She doesn’t know it at the time, but one of the four has already committed murder and another one will soon be making an attempt on her life…

   Maybe it’s just me, but this one doesn’t quite gel. True, the characters’ intentions are adequately foreshadowed, but the whole thing seems wonky and unconvincing.

   Vera Miles’ criminous credits include 23 Paces to Baker Street (1956), The Wrong Man (1956), Psycho (1960), three appearances on The Name of the Game, one on the Jim Hutton Ellery Queen, and three episodes of Murder, She Wrote.

   Jeffrey Hunter appeared in Fourteen Hours (1951), A Kiss Before Dying (1956), Key Witness (1960), Man-Trap (1960), and 26 episodes of the Temple Houston TV series (1963-64).

Hulu: http://www.imdb.com/video/hulu/vi685244441/

Editorial Comment: The pilot for the Temple Houston TV was titled The Man from Galveston (1963) and was considered so well done that it was released theatrically. David Vineyard reviewed it here on the blog last July.

“That Time in Havana.”   An episode of Kraft Suspense Theatre (Season 2, Episode 14). First air date: 11 February 1965. Steve Forrest, Dana Wynter, Victor Jory, Frank Silvera, Val Avery. Teleplay: William Wood. Story: Irving Gaynor Neiman. Director: Alex March.

   It’s been six years since Castro’s revolution took over Cuba. An American woman, Anne Palmer (Dana Wynter), has come to Havana to plead for her husband, who has been imprisoned for being a spy against Fidel. But El Jefe won’t see her, and she’s forced to deal with a lower-level functionary, Colonel Velasquez (Val Avery), who seems only to want to molest her. She gets nowhere.

   Until she meets Mike Taggart (Steve Forrest), a journalist; with him she’s able to turn up some unpleasant facts about her husband, including that million dollars her husband was trying to retrieve for the Mob when he was arrested. It seems Anne didn’t know the man she married as well as she thought she did…

   Despite the title, “That Time in Havana” isn’t a light-hearted caper film, although it could have been played that way, from which it would have greatly benefited. It mostly reminds me of two Humphrey Bogart films: Casablanca (1942) and To Have and Have Not (1944).

   In both of those, Bogie spends a lot of time being — or pretending to be — uninvolved with the political turmoil swirling around him; similarly, Dana Wynter’s character cares only about her husband’s plight and is indifferent to politics until she has to make a decision near the end of the story that has political ramifications.

   He-man actor Steve Forrest has had a long career. Criminous credits include: Phantom of the Rue Morgue (1954), Rogue Cop (1954), three episodes of The Name of the Game (1969-70), four episodes of Gunsmoke, 36 episodes of S.W.A.T. (1975-76), 15 episodes of Dallas (1986), five appearances on Murder, She Wrote, and 3 on Team Knight Rider (1997-98).

   Dana Wynter has the distinction of appearing in one episode of the Colonel March of Scotland Yard TV series (1956, under her German birth name, Dagmar Wynter), the sci-fi thriller Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956), The List of Adrian Messenger (1963), one episode of The Wild Wild West (1966), a regular role in the nearly-forgotten spy series The Man Who Never Was (18 episodes, 1966-67), five episodes of The F.B.I., three appearances on Cannon (1973-75), and as Mrs. Ironside in the TV movie The Return of Ironside(1993).

“One Tiger to a Hill.” An episode of Kraft Suspense Theatre (Season 2, Episode 8). First air date: 3 December 1964. Barry Nelson, James Gregory, Diane McBain, Peter Brown, Warren Stevens. Writer: Robert Hamner. Story consultant: Anthony Boucher. Director: Jack Arnold.

   When $400,000 worth of valuable jewels are stolen, Lieutenant Wade (James Gregory) is certain who did it, his constant adversary cat burglar Colin Neal (Barry Nelson). But at the same time the theft occurs, Wade is enjoying some fine wine with Neal and his girlfriend Diana (Diane McBain) in a swanky restaurant, giving Neal an ironclad alibi.

   Lieutenant Wade knows Neal must be behind this somehow; what he doesn’t know is that Neal, well aware of the close police scrutiny he is under, has been training an apprentice, Chris (Peter Brown), to steal for him.

   But what even Neal doesn’t know is that his girlfriend has been seeing Chris on the side — and that Chris has plans for the loot that don’t include Neal. When Neal does become aware of these developments, however, he is moved to take action. How does the old saying go? You must set a thief …

   … To Catch a Thief, Hitchcock’s 1955 thriller, was undoubtedly the inspiration for this one. (And any instances of ingenuity you may detect in the storyline are most probably due to story editor Anthony Boucher, who excelled at this sort of thing.) The police lieutenant and the master thief are the best of enemies, each one having grudging respect for the other.

   Barry Nelson’s criminous credits include Eyes in the Night (1942), Casino Royale (1954, as the very first screen James Bond), The Borgia Stick (1967), and appearances on Nero Wolfe (1981) and Murder, She Wrote (1988).

   James Gregory appeared in nearly 200 TV shows and movies, including Naked City (1948), The Lawless Years TV series (1959-60), The Manchurian Candidate (1962), the lousy Dean Martin “Matt Helm” film series (1966-67), Columbo (1972), Police Story (1974-75), Detective School (1979), and a long run on the Barney Miller series (1975-82).

   Unlike Nelson and Gregory, Peter Brown is still with us. His longest-running involvement with TV has been in Western series: as a deputy marshal on the serious Lawman (1958-62) and the humorous Laredo (1965-67).

“The Jack is High.” An episode of Kraft Suspense Theatre (Season 2, Episode 6). First air date: 19 November 1964. Edd Byrnes, Pat O’Brien, Henry Jones, Larry Storch, Harry Bellaver, William Bramley, Michael Macready, William Boyett. Writer: William Wood. Director: Ralph Senensky.

    “What we have here,” says Inspector Dan Zarilla (Pat O’Brien), “is an alliance of losers wanting to get into the Win column.” He’s referring to a band of misfits who have successfully pulled off an armored car robbery in Nevada, netting $3 million.

    The heist was masterminded by a man who prefers to be called The Professor (Henry Jones), with the help of a dishonorably-discharged ex-Marine (Edd Byrnes), a not-so-funny standup comic (Larry Storch), a technician (Harry Bellaver), and the only professional criminal in the bunch (William Bramley).

    The Professor has purchased a gasoline tanker truck to use in the getaway; it will act as something of a Trojan Horse as they make their way west towards Los Angeles. To complete the illusion, The Professor has had the technician weld a false bottom in the tank, leaving enough space for 2,000 gallons up top to act as ballast and to fool the cops in case they’re stopped.

    But this “alliance of losers” simply can’t get along, especially the ex-Marine and the professional criminal; plus, the technician has a heart problem he’s told no one else about; some of the welds inside the tank are not exactly tight; not to mention the dogged pursuit by Inspector Zarilla; so that ultimately The Professor’s beautifully-planned caper begins to unravel ….

    I saw this one just the other evening for the first time in nearly half a century — and in color. I didn’t remember all the story developments, but I had never forgotten the final scene after all this time, a finale that’s even more effective here than it was in black and white.

    The hollowed-out tanker truck is a direct lift from James Cagney’s White Heat (1949). At one point, during a roadblock stop, Storch, in order to divert a highway patrolman’s attention, launches into several fairly bad imitations of Hollywood stars, including Cagney — which may have beeen intended as a double inside joke because of White Heat and the fact that Pat O’Brien was often teamed with Cagney in Warner Brothers ’30s gangster films.

    In this one, however, O’Brien comes across less as a high-octane minion of the law and more like Inspector Maigret, laid-back but persistent.

    Edd Burns will always be remembered as Kookie in the 77 Sunset Strip TV series (1958-63). Pat O’Brien had a huge career, including Angels with Dirty Faces (1938), Having Wonderful Crime (1945, as Michael J. Malone), Crack-Up (1946), Riffraff (1947), the failed pilot for The Adventures of Nick Carter (1972), and many others, including Ragtime (1981, with Cagney).

    Henry Jones was all over films and TV: 3:10 to Yuma (1957), Vertigo (1958, as the coroner), five appearances on Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and a continuing role on Mrs. Columbo (1979-80). You might remember Larry Storch as Corporal Agarn in F Troop (1965-67).

“Leviathan Five.” An episode of Kraft Suspense Theatre (Season 1, Episode 14). First air date: 30 January 1964. Arthur Kennedy, Andrew Duggan, John Van Dreelen, Harold J. Stone, Frank Maxwell, Robert Webber (prosecutor), Frank Overton (the defense), Judson Laire. Teleplay: Berne Giler, David Giler, and William P. McGivern. Story: Berne & David Giler. Director: David Lowell Rich.

   Four men are standing trial for murdering another man. All five had been working in a high-security installation 1,500 feet underground when an earth displacement blocked the elevator and airshafts to the surface. Being scientists, they start calculating how long they have to live before help arrives.

   No matter how they figure it, unless one of them dies they’ll all suffocate. When it is suggested that someone could sacrifice himself (they have a gun) if he draws the short stick, one man refuses on moral grounds to be part of any plan involving suicide.

   The group then devises another approach — whoever is selected won’t kill himself but instead will wait until everybody has retired from the main area (to conserve air), fetch the revolver, and go to another man’s cubicle (chosen at random), where he will shoot that person, return to the common area, wipe the gun clean of prints, go back to his own cubicle, and pretend innocence.

   And so it comes to pass — except, as we learn later, the man who dies was not chosen at random ….

   This description makes the play sound like a whodunit, which it is — but, at the same time, it isn’t. The main thrust of the story is to explore such heavyweight ideas as: What is the difference between murder and execution? Can five men behave as a sovereign nation, making their own laws and deciding who lives and who dies?

   If a man consents to sacrifice himself, can his death at someone else’s hand be deemed a murder? If one man commits murder, can three other men who never wielded the weapon be held equally responsible? Isn’t this a nation “under God” and His laws?

   As I say, ponderous matter for a one-hour TV drama; yet the script smoothly proposes them all without bogging down in pointless moralizing.

   Although it’s never mentioned in the play, the term “leviathan” in the title must be a reference to English political philosopher Thomas Hobbes’ dubious conception of government: “For by Art is created that great Leviathan called a Commonwealth or State (in latine Civitas) which is but an Artificial Man; though of greater stature and strength than the Natural, for whose protection and defence it was intended; and in which, the Sovereignty is an Artificial Soul, as giving life and motion to the whole body ….”

WILDE ALLIANCE. Yorkshire TV, ITV1, UK; 13 x 60m episodes, 17 January 1978 to 11 April 1978. John Stride (Rupert Wilde), Julia Foster (Amy Wilde). Producer: Ian Mackintosh.

   Tise Vahimagi happened to mention this series in a post he did on this blog almost three years ago, one in which he was discussing the various TV series that crime fiction writer Ian Mackintosh was involved in, one way or another.

   At the time I’d never heard of Wilde Alliance (and in fact back then I was more or less a complete novice when it came to old British TV series), and his description of the show was definitely tantalizing:

   Said he: “… [a] comedy-thriller featuring the amateur sleuthing adventures of a thriller novelist and his busybody wife (the latter in the Pamela North, Jennifer Hart vein).” Tantalizing, I said, because, I thought, what are the chances that anyone would dig this probably all-but-forgotten series out of whatever archive it might be in, if it existed at all.

   So what a fluke of luck it was to discover that, at the same time I purchased my first multi-region DVD player, that the series did exist, all 13 episodes, and that in fact it had just come out on DVD. It was promptly in my Amazon-UK shopping cart and speeding across the Atlantic on its way to me.

      As Tise said, Rupert Wilde is a thriller mystery writer. As played by John Stride, he’s a chunky fellow, with grayish white hair that’s just a little too long to be called kempt, but was probably in fashion then, back in the late 70s. His wife Amy is pert, saucy and slight and a perfect helpmate, very much her own woman, but cheerfully praising, pleasing and prodding Rupert on.

   They’re a happily married couple and normal in all regards except for their penchant to get mixed up in small scrapes and escapades, some of which involve crimes and some don’t. They aren’t as rich as the Harts (Hart to Hart), since Rupert is always pressed on deadlines for his next book in order to pay the bills, but they certainly are far from poor.

   Of the five episodes I’ve watched so far, I’ve enjoyed the fifth the most: “The Private Army of Colonel Stone,” in which the son of one of Rupert’s honorary aunts has mysterious died in Africa while on a diamond-hunting expedition. No body has been found, but the three men who’d been with him have taken over the isolated cottage that the dead man had used to finance his share of the venture. Plenty of twists and turns in the plot before it’s done.

   Other episodes, so far:

   Very minor plot material, when it comes down to it, nor are either of the stars big names, then or now (I will gladly stand corrected on that), but the interplay between the two leading actors is as charming (if I may use such a word in describing a TV series purportedly a detective show) as that between Steed and Mrs. Peel in a series in which, however, the stories were larger than life.

   Not quite so with Wilde Alliance. Their adventures are ordinary, or almost so. (None of the above ever happened to Judy and I.)

[UPDATE.]  Later the same morning.   Scouting on the Internet for more information about the series, I found a webpage containing a lengthy overview of it. Quoting briefly, which I assume I may:

WALLENDER. TV4, Sweden. Season 1 (13 episodes), 2005-2006. Krister Henriksson (Kurt Wallander), Fredrik Gunnarsson, Mats Bergman, Stina Ekblad, Marianne Mörck, Douglas Johansson, Johanna Sällström (Linda Wallander). Based on the characters created by Henning Mankell. (Shown with subtitles on BBC4.)

   The most enjoyable programme of the last few months, imho, has been Wallender, not the waffly Kenneth Branagh version but the Swedish version with Krister Henriksson in the title role.

   As I understand it the first in this series was originally made for cinemas, based on Hanning Mankell’s book about Kurt Wallender’s daughter Linda, Before the Frost (Innan frosten), in which the Inspector had only a secondary role. The rest of the 13 part series were made between 2005-2006 and based on plots provided by Mankell but turned into film by other scriptwriters.

   The BBC in their wisdom showed numbers 1 and 6 at the time of the Branagh adaptations and only later started to show the rest of the series. They are a refreshing change with excellent actors who manage to portray their characters as colleagues who go about their work in a natural way.

   The stories are strong and the programmes have been excellent. There has been much praise for the series in the press here, but for some reason the BBC temporarily stopped at number 10, with the final three shown later on.

Editorial Comment: Reports are that Season Two of the Swedish version will be broadcast on BBC4 sometime this coming spring, but without the late Johanna Sällström as Wallender’s daughter Linda.

“Crimson Witness.” An episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (Season 3, Episode 12). First air date: 4 January 1965. Peter Lawford, Martha Hyer, Roger C. Carmel, Julie London, Joanna Moore, Alan Baxter, Paul Comi, Larry Thor. Teleplay: Morton S. Fine and David Friedkin. Story: Nigel Elliston. Director: David Friedkin.

   If anybody ever had a strong motivation to commit murder, it’s Ernie Mullett (Peter Lawford), the plant manager of a large firm.

   Ernie’s brother Farnum (Roger C. Carmel) has practically replaced him in everyone’s estimation. His boss (Alan Baxter) has demoted Ernie from manager, putting Farnum in his stead. Ernie’s wife Judith (or Judy — note that name, it’ll prove to be important — played by Martha Hyer) has fallen for Farnum. Even Ernie’s gorgeous secretary and mistress Barbara (Julie London) finds Farnum irresistible. It’s enough to drive a body mad with jealousy, and that’s just what it does.

   Exactly how Ernie deals with this intolerable situation constitutes the remaining three fourths of the play — but I would urge you to pay close attention to the flowers that thread in and out of the story because ultimately they will prove fateful ….

   And you can see Ernie exact revenge on Hulu.

   Even more so than “See the Monkey Dance” (reviewed here ) this episode features a script that sparkles with wit, and all the performers seem to work to achieve it. Morton Fine wrote many episodes for I Spy, The Most Deadly Game, Kojak, The Streets of San Francisco, and one for Banacek (“The Vanishing Chalice”). He often teamed with David Friedkin on their TV projects.

   Peter Lawford has the distinction of playing Ellery Queen in the ’70s pilot for a new series (Ellery Queen: Don’t Look Behind You); he also featured in the original Ocean’s Eleven (1960), as well as playing Nick Charles in 72 episodes of The Thin Man TV series (1957-59).

   Roger C. Carmel was good at playing scoundrels; he was “that insufferable, unprincipled kulak” Harry Mudd in three Star Trek episodes. Beautiful Julie London was in The Fat Man (1951) and Crime Against Joe (1956, and reviewed here ), as well as enjoying a long run on the Emergency TV series.

   And we previously talked about Joanna Moore’s appearance in The Alfred Hitchcock Hour episode “Who Needs an Enemy?”

HELEN WEST. British TV mini-series: 3 x 90m, ITV1. Episode One: “Deep Sleep” 6 May 2002. Amanda Burton (Helen West), Conor Mullen (Chief Supt. Bailey); with Annabelle Apsion, Dermot Crowley, Harry Eden, Ian Puleston-Davies. Based on the novel by Frances Fyfield.

   In Frances Fyfields’s mystery novels — there are six of them in which Superintendent Bailey teams up with prosecuting attorney Helen West as a top notch crime solving team — his first name is Geoffrey, but I’m not sure whether came up in the TV show or not.

   The three episodes are available in the US as a boxed set entitled The Helen West Casebook. The other two in the set are also based on Ms. Fyfield’s novels:

       1. 06 May 2002. Deep Sleep
       2. 13 May 2002. Shadow Play.
       3. 20 May 2003. A Clear Conscience

   An earlier book was also adapted for television: Trial by Fire (1999); in this one Juliet Stevenson and Jim Carter played the two leading roles. This unaccountably leaves the first book in the series (A Question of Guilt) and the last (Without Consent) as never having been filmed.

   What all this means is that in “Deep Sleep,” based on the third of the novels, we (the viewers) are plunged straight into the series without much introduction, with Helen West undergoing and recovering from surgery and straight into the arms of her lover, Superintendent Bailey. (As a side comment, I cannot see any conflict of interest there, but their public smooching sometimes borders on the unprofessional.)

   I was going to say that maybe they do things differently in England, but I can’t, since maybe they do in this country also, and I just haven’t been paying attention. Dead in this one, though, is the wife of a well-loved pharmacist. Her passing is all but considered to be of natural causes, but a noticeable amount of chloroform in her blood keeps Helen from closing the case.

   Making the story a little more complicated is the fact that the pharmacist’s assistant, whom he seems to have eyes for, is the former wife of one of the officers under Bailey’s command == and the officer in question is not reconciled with the separation, not at all.

   There is also the matter of a kidnapped child, the suspicious death of a neighborhood junkie, and an unexploded bomb discovered while tearing down a row of worn-out tenement buildings.

   It all adds up to a lot of story, as perhaps you can tell. While Helen West takes a rather small role, surprisingly enough, when all is said and done, all of the activity in it certainly revolves about her. Even though this particular episode is far more a crime thriller than it is a work of detective fiction, I enjoyed it anyway. I’ve not watched the other two films in this set, but I shall, and quickly too.