Tag Archives: Jean Peters

Vicki (1953, Harry Horner)

Vicki is an object lesson in why not to cast against type. Richard Boone plays an obsessive, highly decorated police veteran who is also supposed to be wimpy (except, literally, when beating up helpless people). About the only time Boone isn’t absurd is when he’s stalking his suspects, breaking into their apartments, assaulting them. Then he makes sense. When he’s a punching bag for successful promotional agent Elliot Reid? Not so much.

The film opens with a montage of model Jean Peters’s advertisements all over New York City. The montage ends with the coroner taking Peters’s body out of her apartment. The next morning, Boone checks into a weird New Jersey motel and for a couple minutes it seems like the movie is going to be peculiar enough to be a lot of fun. But then Boone sees the newspaper stories about Peters and calls his boss to demand the case. He’s a man obsessed. And, even though he’s on a mandatory leave for being too intense, the boss lets him take the case.

Now it’s time for the flashbacks. At the police station, the cops are already sweating Reid, who’s one of the three suspects. It’s a really bad interrogation scene and doesn’t get much better when Boone arrives. It gets differently bad, which is sort of an improvement. All the actors playing the cops abusing Reid give lousy performances. Boone shows up—having already decided Reid is guilty—and wants to hear the whole story again.

While Reid kicks off one information dump, Peters’s sister, Jeanne Crain, comes into the station and gives her statement to the captain. Occasionally the movie will switch between flashbacks, Reid’s or Crain’s, but they never contradict. They’re the story of Peters getting famous because Reid and society columnist Max Showalter see her one night working in a cafeteria and decide she’s pretty enough to be famous. Reid’s actual intentions are anyone’s guess. He’s the prime suspect, Crain’s got a tragic crush on him (and no chemistry with him at all), while everyone thinks he’s in love with Peters, who he’s also got zero chemistry opposite. Reid’s not bad either. He’s fine doing the falsely accused man who might turn out to be the murderer still, he’s just not fine when he’s got to be a romantic lead.

For a while it seems like Showalter will be showing up to do a flashback, then maybe Alexander D’Arcy (as Reid’s talentless but beloved client and another Peters suitor). Only they don’t. Even though neither of them have alibis it turns out later.

Instead the movie stops with flashbacks—sending Peters off rather ingloriously given she’s ostensibly the point of the movie—and is instead just Boone trying to railroad Reid while Crain has to figure out if she’s going to help Reid or not. Because even though she’s supposed to be madly in love with him, she can’t even muster enough energy to be anything but indifferent to him.

Director Horner is not good with the actors. But given how completely off Boone is in the film, it also doesn’t seem like the actors having better direction would help anything. Especially since the mystery’s pretty dumb and a complete con job to manipulate the audience. Better script, better direction, better cast, maybe the film could get away with it. But not with what they’ve got.

Once Boone goes full crazy and physically assaults both Crain and Reid—he’s still justified as far as the department’s concerned here—Reid realizes he’s got to solve the murder himself, which leads to a one-off late second act flashback to remind when the movie was at least amusing. Showalter and Peters, in the flashbacks, appear to be having fun. No one has any fun in the present. They all seem miserable, which is appropriate for the story, sure… only Peters’s death doesn’t really seem to affect anyone. Other than presenting them with logistical problems.

Crain’s top-billed in the film, implying she’s going to have a lot to do. She doesn’t. She gets to moon over Reid, who’s the real lead. Then it’s Boone; Crain is a dragging third. Second-billed Peters has sort of a nice girl to femme fatale arc only she’s not really a femme fatale, she’s just opportunistic, which is the point. Crain’s first half of the picture, when she’s supposed to be mourning, scared of cops, scared of Reid, isn’t very good. Peters walks all over her in the flashback scenes, which feels like a strange balance (not just because Crain’s top-billed). It’s probably Horner’s fault, though Dwight Taylor’s script doesn’t do Crain or Peters any favors.

Vicki proudly gets an F on Bechdel.

Crain gets a lot better in the second half when she gets less to do, because having more to do in Vicki just hurts your performance. Reid’s uneven but compared to Boone’s crash-and-burn performance, almost anything would be fine. Not sure Reid’s ever believable as a successful promotion agent given he’s seemingly got no connections other than Showalter. But he’s more believable than Boone’s ostensibly nebbish copper. Peters’s arc is incomplete too.

But, hey, it ends better than expected.

1/4

CREDITS

Directed by Harry Horner; screenplay by Dwight Taylor, based on a novel by Steve Fisher; director of photography, Milton R. Krasner; edited by Dorothy Spencer; music by Leigh Harline; produced by Leonard Goldstein; released by 20th Century Fox.

Starring Elliott Reid (Steve Christopher), Jeanne Crain (Jill Lynn), Richard Boone (Lt. Ed Cornell), Max Showalter (Larry Evans), Alexander D’Arcy (Robin Ray), Aaron Spelling (Harry Williams), Carl Betz (Detective McDonald), and Jean Peters (Vicki Lynn).


This post is part of the Jeanne Crain Blogathon hosted by Christine Of Overture Books And Film.

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It Happens Every Spring (1949, Lloyd Bacon)

I know nothing about baseball, but I’m pretty sure it’s against the rules to doctor the ball to guarantee no one can hit it….

The discussion of that dishonesty never comes up in It Happens Every Spring. Otherwise, it’s a nice little late 1940s Fox feature with the cast to match–Paul Douglas, Jean Peters, and Ray Collins. Douglas and Peters are particularly good, with Peters in the thankless girlfriend role that I don’t think she played often or at least, I’ve never seen her in it before. She and Douglas only have a scene together, but it makes you wish they’d done a movie together. Douglas is, of course, great.

It’s Ray Milland, as the forty-seven-year old “kid,” who comes off worst. He’s not particularly charming and the film’s incredibly dull when he’s moving the story along. It’s not even his obvious maturity that makes him so boring, it’s his distance from the whole thing. Spring doesn’t have much of a story (it fails to be either an American baseball film or a character piece), but it’s got a cast. Milland seems to have no interest in it. He’s not putting anything into the picture.

The writing is all right in spots–I particularly love how Douglas can get any piece of dialogue out and make it sound good–and it’s by Valentine Davies, who worked on The Bridges at Toko-Ri, which is great. Still, he couldn’t make this film move. It’s less than ninety minutes and it drags.

It occurs to me that I’ve only ever seen two other Milland pictures: Dial M for Murder and The Big Clock, both years ago. I don’t remember him ever impressing me. Spring does nothing to contribute. He’s just so ineffective, kind of like they wanted Cary Grant and couldn’t get him.

But Paul Douglas is great.

1.5/4★½

CREDITS

Directed by Lloyd Bacon; screenplay by Valentine Davies, based on a story by Davies and Shirley W. Smith; director of photography, Joseph MacDonald; edited by Bruce B. Pierce and Dorothy Spencer; music by Leigh Harline; produced by William Perlberg; released by 20th Century Fox.

Starring Ray Milland (Prof. Vernon K. Simpson), Jean Peters (Deborah Greenleaf), Paul Douglas (Monk Lanigan), Ed Begley (Edgar Stone), Ted de Corsia (Manager Jimmy Dolan), Ray Collins (Prof. Alfred Greenleaf), Jessie Royce Landis (Mrs. Greenleaf), Alan Hale Jr. (Schmidt) and William Murphy (Tommy Isabell).