“House Guest.” An episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (Season 1, Episode 8). First air date: 8 November 1962. MacDonald Carey, Robert Sterling, Karl Swenson, Peggy McCay, Adele Mara, Robert Armstrong, Billy Mumy. Writers: Marc Brandell and Henry Slesar. Based on the novel The Golden Deed (1960) by Andrew Garve. Director: Alan Crosland, Jr.

   Sally Mitchell (Peggy McCay) and her son Tony (Billy Mumy) are at the beach; for some reason Tony insists on swimming far offshore (it’s only much later that we find out why), where he nearly drowns. Only the intervention of Ray Roscoe (Robert Sterling) keeps him from going under.

   Sally, needless to say, is profusely grateful to Ray and tells her husband John (MacDonald Carey), who offers Ray a temporary place to stay until he can get on his feet, financially speaking. According to Ray, he’s just out of the Air Force and looking for an orange grove to invest in.

   Soon, however, Ray shows his true colors, making barely concealed passes at Sally and neglecting to find work. He even tries to coerce John into paying him to leave.

   Ray’s behavior deteriorates even further when, while driving John’s car, he gets into a fender bender with George Sherston (Karl Swenson) and his wife Eve (Adele Mara). Sally can’t help but notice Ray now making passes at Eve, just like he did with her.

   But George isn’t blind, either. After Ray reportedly gets too physical with Eve and she scratches his face, an enraged George confronts him just outside John’s house. The two are in a slugfest when John intervenes, trying to stop it. Then a terrible accident occurs: When John pushes him a little too hard, Ray falls against a car bumper. George checks the body for life signs.

   The thing to do now would be to call the police, but George argues that it would be nearly impossible to prove it wasn’t premeditated murder, considering Ray’s sexual advances and attempts at blackmail. They all agree the best action would be to bury their “accident victim” and pretend he’s moved on.

   Funny thing about Ray’s accident, though — it’s exactly according to plan ….

   Karl Swenson was all over television for three decades; he usually played in Westerns (e.g., Little House on the Prairie, Bonanza, Cimarron Strip, Gunsmoke), but not always (The Mod Squad, Barnaby Jones, Hawaii Five-O, Mission: Impossible).

   Robert Sterling had a few criminous credits: Johnny Eager (1941), The Get-Away (1941), and Bunco Squad (1950) — but he usually played lightweight comedy roles or good guys: the Topper TV series (1953-55), Ichabod and Me (series, 1961-62), and the first captain of the U.S.O.S Seaview in Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (1961).

   As for MacDonald Carey: Shadow of a Doubt (1943), the TV series Lock Up (1959-61), four appearances on Burke’s Law, and two on Murder, She Wrote — including what some regard as the smartest and trickiest episode of that series, “Trial by Error” (1986).

Hulu: http://www.imdb.com/video/hulu/vi886571033/

Editorial Comment:   According to IMDB, Andrew Garve’s The Golden Deed was also the basis for the first episode of a summer replacement series on NBC called Moment of Fear (1 July 1960; Season 1, Episode 1). Starring in the program were Macdonald Carey, in apparently the same role, Nina Foch, and Robert Redford.

SEVEN DAYS TO NOON. British Lion Films, 1950. Barry Jones, Olive Sloane, André Morell, Sheila Manahan, Hugh Cross, Joan Hickson, Geoffrey Keen, Victor Maddern. Screenplay: Roy Boulting and Frank Harvey. Original Screen Story by Paul Dehn and James Bernard. Directors: John and Roy Boulting.

   This taut little suspense film is one of the best of its kind ever made. With an Oscar-winning original story by Paul Dehn and James Bernard (best known for composing many of the scores for the Hammer horror films) and a screenplay by co-director Roy Boulting and novelist Frank Harvey (White Mercenaries), the film is an achingly suspenseful exercise in nuclear extortion as a soft-spoken scientist holds London hostage amidst a nationwide manhunt, done in a variation of the docu-noir style of many American films of the period.

   The film also won the British Oscar, the BAFTA, for best picture and John and Roy Boulting received best directing nominations from the Venice Film Festival.

   Barry Jones (Brigadoon, Demetrius and the Gladiator, War and Peace) is the scientist, Professor Willington, who disappears from his job at a nuclear research facility and leaves a letter to the Prime Minister (Ronald Adam) stating he will destroy London in seven days at noon on the seventh day unless his demands for nuclear disarmament are met.

   The world was made in seven days, and London will be destroyed in seven days unless mankind stops the madness of nuclear research is the disturbed professor’s demand.

   Superintendent Folland (Morell) of the Yard and Stephen Lane (Hugh Cross), the professor’s research assistant and future son-in-law, head the nationwide manhunt once it is discovered that along with the professor a suitcase nuclear device is missing. (They didn’t exist then and still don’t now, but where would these films be without them?)

   The film focuses less on the hunt itself than on Willington as he flees to London and interacts with a handful of people including a somewhat flowsy Cockney woman (Olive Sloane) and his landlady (Joan Hickson — Miss Marple). The professor’s ideals are contrasted with the ordinary real people they threaten in a small Cockney neighborhood — not saints or even the salt of the earth, but human beings unaware their very existence is threatened.

   As the pressure intensifies and the noon deadline approaches, London is evacuated and the shots of the empty streets are both haunting and striking. Meanwhile the authorities close in and the professor’s mental state deteriorates more rapidly. The final confrontation in a church is both evocative and tense.

   Solid as this is as a suspense film, there is more to it, which perhaps explains why it has a resonance still today. Jones is neither an egotist nor a monster, but a kindly and gentle man driven to the ultimate act of terror by the daily horror of the work he pursues. Morell is presented as a human and understanding policeman, and everyone involved seems weighted down by the horror of both the potential destruction and the morality involved.

   Willington is a madman and a terrorist, but a real effort is made to understand his mental breakdown and stop him without killing him; something it becomes increasingly obvious they may not be able to accomplish.

   Seven Days to Noon is something more than a suspense film, an early example of the anti-nuclear movement, then in its infancy, and also a meditation on the beginnings of the arms race that would reach its high (or low) point with the Cuban Missile Crisis. The film bothers to ask important questions, and to force viewers to ask who the real madman is — the professor unbalanced by the horror of his work, or the society blithely ignoring the apocalypse under its nose.

   There are no easy answers here. Horrible as the Professor’s threat is it may be less horrible than the future he wants to prevent. The film never suggests such terrorism is justified, only that to an unhinged mind it may seem so.

   This story has been done countless times since, but seldom this well. There is an interesting contrast with a 1953 American film from Fred Sears and Ivan Tors, The 49th Man, an altogether pulpier (but entertaining) version of the A-bomb in the city story with a few nice paranoid twists and a good performance by John Ireland as an undercover operative.

   But this film is neither shrill nor melodramatic; it is quiet and powerful, and it may be more relevant today than it was when it was made sixty years ago. It also offers a fascinating look at a London still marked by the bomb craters from WW II, at a time when you could actually conceive an orderly evacuation of a city the size of London.

Note: If you go to IMDb you will discover this is the first original film score by noted British film composer John Addison.

  CLAUDE IZNER –
    ● Murder on the Eiffel Tower. St. Martin’s Press, hardcover, September 2008; trade paperback, September 2009.
    ● The Marais Assassin. Gallic Books, UK, 2009. No current US edition.

   I’d earlier read The Pere Lachaise Mystery, the second in the series, and The Montmartre Investigation, the third. Murder on the Eiffel Tower is in fact the first, while The Marais Assassin is the fourth.

   The amateur sleuth in the series is Victor Legris, a Parisian bookseller, who operates a shop with a partner, Kenji Mori, and a young shop assistant, Joseph Pignot (“Jojo”), a bright and ambitious lad who’s also a budding serial novelist and a fan of detective fiction.

   The first novel is set in May 1889, at the time of the Paris Exposition, whose centerpiece attraction is the recently constructed Eiffel Tower, while the fourth takes place in 1892.

   The series was an automatic choice for me since its setting in Belle Epoque Paris presents the French capital at its most captivating, a bustling international center of the arts, and, in Izner’s fervid imagination, the setting for a series of ingenious, bizarre murders.

   In Eiffel, a series of apparently random deaths apparently caused by bee stings is seen by Victor as something more insidious, and in Marais the killing field stretches from rural England to Paris, with the spree occasioned by the theft of a goblet of apparently little value.

   Victor is a relentless pursuer of the cunning murderers, but his heart often overrules his head, and his romantic entanglements are fortified by a strong vein of jealousy that any reader of Proust will appreciate.

   Still, the virtues outweigh Victor’s weaknesses, which haven’t significantly reduced my enjoyment of the novels.

Bibliography:

    * Mystere rue des Saints-Pères, 2003. (Murder on the Eiffel Tower)
    * La disparue du Père-Lachaise, 2003. (The Pere-Lachaise Mystery)

    * Le carrefour des Écrases, 2003. (The Montmartre Investigation)

    * Le secret des Enfants-Rouges, 2004. (The Marais Assassin)
    * Le léopard des Batignolles, 2005.
    * Le talisman de la Villette, 2006.
    * Rendez-vous passage d’Enfer, 2008.

From the Gallic Books website:   “Claude Izner is the pen-name of two sisters, Liliane Korb and Laurence Lefèvre. Both booksellers on the banks of the Seine, they are experts on nineteenth-century Paris.”

RICHARD MATHESON – Someone Is Bleeding. Lion #137, paperback original, 1953. Reprinted in Noir – Three Novels of Suspense: Someone Is Bleeding; Fury on Sunday; Ride the Nightmare: Forge, hardcover & trade ppbk, 2005. (Previous limited edition: G & G Books, hc, 1997.)   Film: Fox-Lira, France, 1974, as Les Seins de Glace (Icy Breasts).

   It’s pleasantly perverse and quickly readable, this thing, Richard Matheson’s first novel — a couple hours of passion, mystery and intrigue; no great shakes in the plotting department, but quirky enough that I found myself wishing Hitchcock had turned this into Vertigo instead of the Boileau-Narcejac book, reviewed here not too long ago.

   And there are some interesting similarities: David, a callow young writer, meets cute and vulnerable Peggy, a withdrawn but passionate woman whose past seems to be riddled with blank spots and contradictions. Peggy quickly gets him reacquainted with Jerry, an old college buddy turned successful bent lawyer, and with Jerry’s murderous henchman, his neurotic brother, alcoholic wife and other sundry and colorful characters.

   With a cast like this you can’t go far wrong, but you can go some-wrong. The problem is that David never seems to do very much; he spends the novel reacting or over-reacting to the other characters, easily swayed by whatever version of the truth he hears last, and generally getting in the way of whatever may be going on —

   Which may actually be more realistic in terms of character, but hardly makes for compelling reading. What keeps the pages turning here are the lively characters, a great chase scene that seems to prefigure North by Northwest, and an ending I found really really chilling.

Editorial Comment:   On the primary Mystery*File website is an interview that Ed Gorman did with Richard Matheson back in 2004. Ed introduces the interview with an overview of Richard’s career that’s as long as the interview. It’s worth the trip. (Follow the link.)

ROBERT J. COURTINE – Madame Maigret’s Recipes. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, hardcover, 1975; trade paperback, 1987.

   I cannot explain the long life of Georges Simenon’s Inspector Jules Maigret, who has been around for almost sixty years. He spends much of his time on “stake outs,” standing around in the cold. To warm up, he drinks more brandy than is good for him or his liver.

   And what happens when he comes home? Well, according to Madame Maigret’s Recipes, compiled by Robert J. Courtine, he is served all the wrong foods. Still, I once said the same about Nero Wolfe, and he survived many years even though he also had to contend with obesity and a sedentary life style.

   Seriously, Courtine’s book is a delight for all who love good food, presenting recipes which range from soups like vichyssoise to deserts, e.g., profiteroles, an obscenely delicious concoction of eggs, butter, cream, chocolate, and ice cream.

   In between are more than a hundred dishes of meat, seafood, and chicken. Vegetables and salads are few and tend to be prepared with such cholesterol no-nos as butter, cream, and eggs. Still, everything sounds mouth-watering, and the mystery fan will have the added pleasure of being reminded of the book and circumstances under which Maigret ate each dish.

   My favorite cook says most of these dishes are relatively difficult to prepare, despite the contention that Louise Maigret prepared only “good, honest” food, because sophisticated fare had no appeal for her husband.

   However, when the detective comes home to lunch (!) in Maigret and the Loner (1975) she prepares coq au vin and must have spent the entire morning at the stove.

   She proves she loves the detective as much as do his readers. Perhaps it is that the French have a different viewpoint regarding food and, as has been said in a different context, vive le difference.

    The inquiry below arrived in today’s email from John Herrington:

    “I am trying to find some information on a Giovanna Francesca Tassinari. Her connection with crime is rather minor as in 1926 she wrote a story ‘The judgment of Solomon’ with Edgar Jepson. She has turned up in the 1960s writing pseudonymous romances; and according to earlier records described herself as an author so I assume there may be other, probably pseudonymous, works in the 1930s to 1950s. Probably romance, but possibly in other genres.

    “She was born 1897, probably in Italy, and died in London in 1978. She was probably the daughter of Signora Danyell Tassinari who died in Florence in 1950 and whose obituary says was one of the oldest surviving English-born residents of Florence of the time.

    “Could you give her a mention in case the name means something to someone?”

THE KEYHOLE. Warner Brothers, 1933. Kay Francis, George Brent, Glenda Farrell, Allen Jenkins, Henry Kolker, Monroe Owsley, Helen Ware. Screenplay by Robert Presnell Sr., based on the story “Adventuress” by Alice D. G. Miller. Director: Michael Curtiz.

   Even though George Brent plays at being a private detective in this one, the society kind, with Allen Jenkins as his dopey partner, I’ve categorized this movie as a comedy/romance all the way. While there is a crime involved (blackmail), any detection is minimal (that is to say, none).

   It’s not even Brent’s job to nab the blackmailer, though in the end he does, in a way. He’s hired instead to keep an eye on the blackmailee (Kay Francis) on behalf of her husband (Henry Kolker), who does not know about the blackmail but thinks funny business is going on when Kay Francis (a) begins to act strangely, and (b) heads for Cuba alone, and under her maiden name.

   It’s all part of a plot on her part to rid herself of the blackmailer (Monroe Owsley) to whom she was once married and who has since reneged on following through with a divorce.

   Brent’s usual game is getting the goods on married women who want to stray (I did mention he was the society kind of PI), so he’s a little confused, but naturally, as the cruise goes on, he begins to, well, you know, fall in love with her?

   Unfortunately, as an actor, George Brent has always seemed too bland for me, so it was up to Kay Francis to make this picture work for me, and she was never lovelier.

   She has a huge wardrobe along with her aboard ship, and each is what you might call spectacular, with many of them backless (this was a pre-Code movie) and cut low in front as well, but not nearly as far as in the back.

   She makes the romance between George Brent and herself believable, and even sizzle here and there, in totally entertaining fashion.

   But Allen Jenkins I could easily have done without altogether. He plays dopey to the hilt in this movie, and does a bang up job of it. A subplot involving him in a romance with con woman Glenda Farrell doesn’t go very far (both of them believe the other to be rich), but at least Glenda Farrell is easy on the eyes. She always was.

WARREN ADLER – Trans-Siberian Express. G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1977. Paperback reprint: Pocket, 1978. Stonehouse Press, hc, May 2001; trade ppbk, July 2004.

   One of crime fiction’s most popular subgenres is the tale of mystery and intrigue set on board a fast-moving train.

   For more than a century, authors from Poe to Christie to Warren Adler have perpetrated all sorts of mayhem on the world’s railways — highballing freights and crack passenger specials in this country, the fabled Orient Express, and now the Trans-Siberian Express that spans two continents on its 6000-mile route across Russia to the Sea of Japan.

   Dr. Alex Cousins, a Russian-speaking American cancer specialist, has been sent to Moscow on a secret mission by the president of the United States. The mission: to prolong for seven weeks (for unspecified reasons) the life of Viktor Dimitrov, secretary-general of the politburo, who is dying of leukemia.

   Cousins has done his duty, and now that he is ready to leave Russia, Dimitrov urges him to take the Trans-Siberian Express instead of flying — a “gift,” Dimitrov says, the train being one of legendary Victorian grandeur and the scenery being magnificent.

   Cousins agrees, but with reservations that turn out to be more than warranted. First he meets and becomes romantically involved with Russian beauty Anna Petrovna; then he finds himself enmeshed in a politically motivated conspiracy, trapped on board the train with KGB agents watching his every move.

   His only chance for escape is to seek help from his fellow passengers, but at least some of them are not who they seem to be….

   This is a rousing novel of international intrigue and adventure, populated by sharply drawn characters; the Trans-Siberian Express, in fact, is so realistically depicted that it becomes a character in its own right. Adler’s prose tends toward the undistinguished, but his evocation of the Russian scene and the scope and drama of his story more than make up for any deficiencies.

   Warren Adler is the author of a number of other contemporary thrillers, among them The Casanova Embrace (1978) and Natural Enemies (1979).

         ———
   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.

HERBERT ADAMS – Victory Song. Collins Crime Club, UK, 1943. Paperback reprint: Collins White Circle Services Edition, UK, 1946. No US edition.

   In his efforts to mobilize the power of prayer to make England victorious over the Germans and Japanese, the Reverend Gordon Arnold, the Mad Padre, has enlisted the aid of Edward Dalton, an American with a fine voice and the ability to write stirring hymns. One night Dalton disappears, leaving behind him without a word of explanation his sixteen-year-old daughter.

   Because Roger Bennion’s chief in the Secret Service is the Mad Padre’s cousin, Bennion is asked to quietly investigate the disappearance. In doing so, Bennion discovers that a great deal more is going on in the Bristopool area than a mere missing religious figure.

   As Bennion’s information increases, the reader may tend to mutter about coincidence and unlikelihood and needless complexity. Still, one does want to finish the novel to see how Bennion sorts it all out, which should be any author’s goal.

   A “time passer” is how I would describe the book, with nothing invidious intended.

Editorial Comments:   This is a scarce book. There is one copy of the paperback edition offered for sale on abebooks.com, for example, and two of the hardcover, both in the $145-160 range. Some of Adams’ mysteries, just over fifty or so, were published in the US, but most were not.

   Roger Bennion was Adams’ most commonly used series character. For more about him, read Mary Reed’s review of Death of a Viewer, which appeared here earlier on this blog. Following the review is a complete list of all of the Bennion books. (Adams is perhaps most noted for his golfing mysteries, eight of them in all, with some overlap with the Bennion books.)

   Also of note, in case you missed it: thanks to Jamie Sturgeon, considerable information has been discovered about Beryl Whitaker, author of four detective novels published in the UK in the 1960s, one of which Bill Deeck reviewed here not too long ago. Three of the covers have been added to the review and bibliography, along with a series of updates about the author herself.

MAD ABOUT MEN. General Films, 1954. Glynnis Johns, Donald Sinden, Anne Crawford, Margaret Rutherford, Dora Bryan, Noah Purcell. Director: Ralph Thomas.

   That’s Miranda for you, all over. Miranda is Glynnis Johns, and just happens to be a mermaid, and the title of the film is a perfect description of her attitude in this fish-out-of-water comedic fantasy sequel to her debut as the mermaid in Miranda (1948).

   In this one Johns has a dual role as Miranda and Caroline her land-bound cousin (seems grandfather had a way with the ladies and the mermaids) who inherits a house in Cornwall and discovers Miranda.

   Miranda would rather like a holiday on solid land, and since Caroline is off for a two week holiday hiking tour, she arranges for Miranda to take her place pretending to have had a bad fall on the parallel bars (“I was going between two bars and took a fall.”) so she can explain the wheelchair with nurse Margaret Rutherford (who cared for her in the first film) helping.

   Miranda meanwhile doesn’t much care for the look of Caroline’s fiance, and she sets out to woo and win her another — no real effort for Miranda who finds men just lovely.

   Of course this is all pure froth, but done in lovely color and with a sprightly sense of humor and double — even triple — entendre. One of her beaus is a retired soldier Berkley and the other a handsome and rich fisherman Jeff (Sinden), and Miranda’s less than innocent ways soon have both men in over their heads.

   Complicating things for Miranda is her life long companion, Berengaria (Dora Bryan) whose mother was “frightened by an octopus,” and has a penchant for kleptomania and off-key singing.

   Rutherford is delightful as the nurse (watch for the scene where she sings “Maria the Matador’s Mother”) who takes great pride in her sexy patient, and Johns is a revelation: long platinum hair, Khirghiz eyes, and that breathless voice, perfect for this sexy romp.

   Those who only know her as Mother in Mary Poppins may be in for something of a shock.

   When Berkley’s fiance Barbara finds out Miranda’s secret, she sets a trap to reveal her before the world.

   The only depths to this one are in the ocean, but that hardly matters. This is a visual delight and a showcase for Johns who gets to perform not only a sexy song but a pretty hot rumba, and do much of the film dressed in little more than her long hair and pasties. If you can, catch it with the first film, Miranda, which is even more of a delight, and teams Johns with David Tomlinson, who would play her husband in Mary Poppins.

   Both films are funny, sexy, and fine examples of the kind of thing Thorne Smith used to do it print in a more (and less) innocent age. Both films compare well with the William Powell comedy Mr. Peabody and the Mermaid, where he catches mermaid Ann Blyth on a fishing trip in Florida, much to the bemusement of wife Irene Hervey.