APPOINTMENT WITH DEATH. Cannon Group, 1986. Peter Ustinov (Hercule Poirot), Lauren Bacall, Carrie Fisher, John Gielgud, Piper Laurie, Hayley Mills, Jenny Seagrove, David Soul. Based on the novel by Agatha Christie. Director: Michael Winner.

   Appointment with Death begins with chicanery. Wealthy widow and domineering stepmother Emily Boynton (Piper Laurie) uses the threat of blackmail to persuade attorney Jefferson Cope (David Soul) to tear up the latest version of her late husband’s will; instead, he presents an earlier copy of the document which leaves the Boyton adult children largely out of the will. This infuriates the Boyntons, some of whom even ponder the notion of killing their stepmother.

   Despite these new family dynamics, Emily Boynton takes her brood on a cruise vacation to first England, then Italy, and then the Holy Land. While romance blooms between one of the Boyntons and Dr. Sally King (Jenny Seagrove), Lady Westholme (Lauren Bacall), one of the fellow cruise members and an American-born Member of Parliament, uses her time to work with the British authorities on a partition plan for Mandatory Palestine.

   When Emily Boyton is found murdered, there are innumerable suspects. She was not very well liked, even by her own family. Enter Hercule Poirot (Peter Ustinov), who is on hand in Jerusalem and ready to help the British authorities solve this crime.

   While I overall enjoyed watching Appointment with Death, I can’t really say that it’s a very good film. The pacing is off and, more significantly, the characters aren’t introduced properly. At times, it’s difficult to ascertain who is doing what with whom. That said, the on location setting works well, as does the score by Pino Donaggio. A mixed bag with a solid cast.

MARY ANN TAYLOR – Red Is for Shrouds. Raven House, paperback original, 1980.

   This second Raven House mystery is, if nothing else, a good sight better than the first, Crimes Past, by Mary Challis. (It was Jeff Meyerson, by the way, who was the first to suggest to me that “Mary Challis” is actually Sara Woods. The evidence is strongly convincing.)

   I haven’t heard of Mary Ann Taylor before now either — much of the Raven House line seems to consist of unknowns and/or writers hiding with obvious embarrassment under phony bylines.  In this particular case the author has a follow-up  out already (Return to Murder, Raven House #23). It also takes place in the small town of Bolton, exact location  unknown, but apparently somewhere in the western plains

   Police Chief Emil Martin puts his career on the line in this one. A series of murders has nearly wiped out the town’s population of red-haired women, and murder is a crime that Martin has hardly had much experience with. After a while the townspeople start getting antsy, and in a very real sense it is he who finds himself on trial.

   By category you’d have to call this a police procedural, but it’s a down-home folksy sort of one that big-city inhabitants aren’t going to enjoy and appreciate half as much as those with small-town roots. By nature, it’s also a puzzle story, and as such the surprise comes a bit at the expense of the characters as they’ve been constructed up to then — but only a bit.

   Good, wholesome mystery entertainment.

Rating: C plus.

CATHERINE AIRD – Passing Strange. Sloan & Crosby #9 [of 28]. Collins, UK, hardcover, 1980. Doubleday/Crime Club, US, hardcover, 1981. Bantam, US, paperback, 1982.

   In the same category as Mary Fitt of a generation earlier, Catherine Aird is another writer whose works others have been praising highly to me. If this latest book of hers is typical, however, once again I am dense, and I fail to see what the shouting’s all about.

   The detective in most of her books is Inspector Sloan, of the Criminal Investigation Department of the Berebury Division of the Calleshire Force. Here he investigates the death of the village nurse, by strangulation, at the annual Almstone Flower and Horticultural Show, a gala event in this section of Britain. At stake is the proper identification of a would-be heiress to a large estate, but what it is that provides Sloan with the key to the killer is a tray laden with food and the matter of the labels that were switched on the show’s prize-winning tomatoes.

   In terms of loving portrayals of rural English eccentricities, I was reminded at first of Edmund Crispin’s tales of the redoubtable and resourceful Gervase Fen, but Aird’s brand of wackiness soon turned significantly more cynical, and its charms were eventually lost in the clutter of tediously interchangeable village people.

   While the story is competently told, it simply lacks the appearance of striving for any particular heights. There are a few sparks of wit that are struck, but they never seem to catch fire. The whole affair is already fading badly from memory, and by the time another month rolls around, I suspect it will have been all but forgotten.

Rating: C plus.

THE TRIAL. Astor Pictures Corporation, France, 1962, as Le procès. Astor Pictures Corporation, US, 1963. Anthony Perkins, Jeanne Moreau, Romy Schneider, Akim Tamiroff, Orson Welles. Based on the novel by Franz Kafka. Written and directed by Orson Welles.

   Anthony Perkins (in a post-Psycho role) portrays Josef K. or just K. in Orson Welles’s cinematic adaptation of Frank Kafka’s novel, Der Prozess. K. is a mild mannered clerk. He is somewhat neurotic, but not overtly so. One day, out of the clear blue sky, two government agents – police – arrive in his apartment at dawn and notify him that he’s been arrested.

   His crime? They won’t say. In fact, throughout the running time of the entire film, neither K., nor the viewer, will learn what it is that K. has been accused of. As such, the movie becomes a parable about a singular man – an “everyman” – facing impossible odds in a cold, bureaucratic state that deems him as an enemy for reasons never revealed.

   Filmed in a stunning black & white that relies heavily on elements of both German Expressionism and film noir, this paranoid, nightmarish thriller is a Welles creation through and through. Not only did Welles write and direct the work, he also starred in it as Albert Hastler or The Advocate. An obese man with health issues, The Advocate is a womanizer and a scoundrel. He is supposed to be taking K.’s side in the proceedings, but seems little interested in justice and far more in power for power’s sake.

   During his nightmarish journey, K. encounters an array of oddball characters, including his nightclub-dancing neighbor (Jeanne Moreau) and The Advocate’s assistant/sometime lover, Leni (Romy Schneider).

   In many ways, however, the people he meets seem less important than the places where he meets them. The set design and on location settings are spectacularly haunting; there is simply no way to adequately verbally describe what must be seen. What must be felt. The German Expressionist influence here can’t be overstated.

   Despite its downbeat mood, I enjoyed watching The Trial immensely. Sometimes scenes don’t work at all. But that’s okay. It’s a bold work of film-making and deserves your attention. Perkins was perfectly cast here.

CELIA FREMLIN – The Hours Before Dawn. Lippincott, hardcover, 1958. Dell D-422, paperback, 1966. Academy Chicago Publishers, softcover, 2005. Dover Publications, paperback, 2017.

   Celia Fremlin has the unusual ability to take a perfectly normal, if not mundane, situation and create an atmosphere of sheer terror. The Hours Before Dawn, which won an Edgar for Best Novel of its year, introduces us to Louise Henderson, a sleep-starved young housewife with a fretful new infant that is causing complaints from both her family and neighbors.

   The only person who doesn’t complain is Miss Vera Brandon, the boarder the Hendersons have recently taken in. In fact, Miss Brandon is so self-effacing and quiet that at times the Hendersons don’t even know she is in the house.

   Soon the boarder’s actions begin to arouse Louise’s suspicions, and she finds herself doing all sorts of things she has never done before — attempting to search the woman’s room, contacting total strangers for information about her, and finally taking the baby for a nocturnal stroll in his pram, only to fall asleep and lose him in a park.

   The author skillfully weaves truly frightening events into Louise’s daily routine of meals, housecleaning, and childcare, and her superb characterization has the reader thoroughly on Louise’s side — and just as terrified as she is — by the time the story reaches its surprising conclusion.

   Other Fremlin titles of note: Uncle Paul (1960), Prisoner’s Base (1967), The Spider-Orchid (1978), With No Crying (1981).

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

NATIONAL TREASURE. Walt Disney Pictures, 2004. Nicolas Cage, Diane Kruger, Justin Bartha, Sean Bean, Jon Voight, Harvey Keitel, Christopher Plummer. Director: Jon Turteltaub.

   National Treasure was released about twenty years ago. I’d heard of it, of course. But never took the time to watch it as I always thought it was going to be merely a shallow imitation of the Indiana Jones franchise. I was wrong. Although the film has its myriad flaws and lacks grit, this Nicholas Cage vehicle is definitely its own thing.

   For those unfamiliar with the basic premise, Cage stars as Benjamin Franklin Gates, an early American historian and adventurer who decides to steal the Declaration of Independence from the National Archives. Why? Because he’s convinced it’s got an invisible treasure map on the back, one that would lead to the Templar Knights’s war spoils.

   Along for the ride are Gates’s sidekick, computer expert Riley Poole (Justin Bartha), and Dr. Abigail Chase (Diane Kruger), an archivist and Gates’s nascent love interest. Opposing the intrepid trio are Ian Howe (Sean Bean), a criminal who wants the treasure for himself and FBI Agent Sadusky (a somewhat miscast Harvey Keitel). Then there’s Gates’s father, Patrick Henry Gates (Jon Voight), a disillusioned old man who no longer believes there’s a national treasure to find. He’ll eventually change his mind.

   There’s something very childlike and innocent about National Treasure, which makes sense given that the movie was released by Walt Disney Pictures. But there’s plenty to admire about a film that tells a story, sticks to it, and never cheats the audience. Just because the critics didn’t particularly like this one doesn’t mean you can’t. Overall assessment: goofy, watchable fun with a cast committed to the bit. You don’t have to feel guilty if you like it.

R. AUSTIN FREEMAN – The Singing Bone. Hodder & Stoughton, UK, hardcover, 1912. Dodd Mead, US, hardcover, 1923. Popular Library, US, paperback, as The Adventures of Dr. Thorndyke. Reprinted many other times.

   The Singing Bone consists of five novelettes, averaging a bit over fifty pages each: “The Case of Oscar Brodski,” “A Case of Premeditation,” “The Echo of a Mutiny,” “A Wastrel’s Romance,” and “The Old Lag.” Though the final story is fairly routine, Freeman broke new ground with the first four and invented the “inverted” detective story.

   Each of the tales is told in two parts of about equal length. In part one, “The Mechanism of Crime,” as it is subtitled in the first story, we actually see the crime committed and are furnished with all the facts that could be used in solving it. In part two, “The Mechanism of Detection,” we follow Dr. Thorndyke as he investigates the crime, finds the clues, and finally solves it.

   Although the classic question ‘Whodunit?” is necessarily absent for the reader, there is a challenge of a sort to match wits with the detective and spot the clues in advance.

   The inverted form has never been popular in fiction, although Freeman used it in three more stories and two novels, and the popular television series “Columbo” did very well by it for several seasons. Perhaps the secret was that Peter Falk’s Sergeant Columbo was a far more interesting character than Dr. John Thorndyke. whose microscopic examinations lack the flair and showmanship of Sherlock Holmes. Still, the stories in The Singing Bone deserve rediscovery, especially “The Echo of a Mutiny,” which is probably the best of them, with its atmospheric setting in a lighthouse.

   Dr. Thorndyke was first introduced in the novel The Red Thumb Mark (1907), notable for its first use of fingerprint forgery in detective fiction. The collection John Thorndyke’s Cases (1909) features eight conventional detective stories and is especially noteworthy for “The Blue Sequin” and “The Aluminum Dagger.”

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   Reprinted with permission from 1001 Midnights, edited by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller and published by The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box, 2007.   Copyright © 1986, 2007 by the Pronzini-Muller Family Trust.

THE HUNTER. Paramount Pictures, 1980. Steve McQueen (Papa Thorson), Eli Wallach, Kathryn Harrold, LeVar Burton, Ben Johnson. Director: Buzz Kulik.

   Steve McQueen, in his final movie role, portrays bounty hunter Ralph “Papa” Thorson, a towering real life figure whose unorthodox career choice was the source material for The Hunter. The movie is very much a mix of action, drama, and romance, with plenty of time devoted to Thorson’s relationship with his pregnant girlfriend, Dotty (Kathryn Harrold).

   As far as the aforementioned action sequences, they are probably the best part of the film. We get to see McQueen drive a combine harvester while chasing outlaws; fight bare-fisted with a sheriff’s nephew who skipped bail; and chase a vicious killer through Chicago, with a particularly breathtaking scene taking place on a train. Literally.

   The glaring problem that The Hunter has is similar to the flaw found in many biopics. The writers simply don’t choose a good entry point into the story. Here, it takes nearly thirty minutes for the movie to find its legs. There’s a lot of effort devoted to showcasing Thorson’s eccentricities, such as his love of classical music and old vintage toys.

   Which is fine. But not as the expense of introducing a primary antagonist early on in the running. (Eventually, there is a primary villain: an ex-con who blames Thorson for being sent away to prison.)

   Overall assessment: in many ways, the movie feels more like a TV pilot tasked with introducing a character than a comprehensive feature film with a solid plot. But there’s plenty of good stuff in here too. Eli Wallach being one of them.
   

ROSS MACDONALD – Sleeping Beauty. Lew Archer #17 (of 18). Alfred A. Knopf, hardcover, March 1973. Bantam, paperback; 1st printing thus, May 1974. Reprinted many times since.

   One of the later books in the series, and to my mind, not one of the better ones. Archer meets a young woman against a backdrop of a huge oil slick off the southern California coast. She is married but distraught, not only because of the disaster, but the oil company responsible for the damage is owned by her parents and other members of her family.

   After he takes her home with him, she leaves with a massive amount of sleeping pills along with her. And then disappears completely. Archer is hired by her husband to help find her, but matters are complicated by a ransom note received by her family. Is it real, or is it a fake? A scheme designed for revenge. For the money? Is she part of her disappearance herself?

   This is something that has happened in the past, several years earlier. It is part of her makeup. Part of her history.

   The opening is fine. It’s the investigation Archer undertakes that follows this that struggles to match it. The woman has a large, complicated family, and there is a lot of baggage that has accumulated over the years. Archer’s job: to make his way through all the physical and mental debris that has piled up, including murder, questioning everyone as he goes, driving from family member to family member to near exhaustion.

   There is not much action. This is adult stuff. It is also a book I had not read until now, but I’m sure if I had read it earlier, a lot of what Archer brings out into the light of day would have been over my head, in terms of having experienced anything similar. I would have been too young. And then there’s this. The back story, as revealed, is not as interesting even now as it should have been. A list of characters and who they are would have helped.

   But, and I am still trying to work out how this is true, the story is compelling. There’s plenty of guilt to spread around, and that includes that caused directly by the killer. My greatest wish is that I’d rather have had the killer’s identity come out as something other than an anti-climax.

SHOPWORN. Columbia, 1932. Barbara Stanwyck, Regis Toomey, Zasu Pitts. Director: Nick Grinde.

   In this Columbia pre-Code romantic drama, Barbara Stanwyck portrays Kitty Lane, a waitress who falls in love with David Livingston, an upper crust university student (Regis Toomey). The latter’s overbearing mother disapproves, to put it mildly. To separate the lovebirds, her friend, a prominent judge, creates a bogus charge against Kitty, alleging a public morals violation.

   That gets Kitty  sent to a women’s reformatory. After she gets out, however, she doesn’t return to her humble job at the diner. Instead, she becomes a world famous showgirl. Years later, David (Toomey) shows up at her doorstep. He’s still madly in love with her. But his mother, who now owns a gun, is still adamantly opposed to having Kitty as her daughter-in-law.

   Truth be told, there’s not a whole lot to recommend about Shopworn. It’s not that the movie is completely abysmal or anything like that; it’s just rather tedious with a color by numbers type of script that gives the viewer the bare minimum of drama and conflict but nothing more. It’s anemic.

   Overall assessment: Stanwyck takes her role seriously, but the overall product remains something of a dud.