BY NICHOLAS ANEZ

The 1970 film Darker Than Amber should have been a huge commercial success. It should have been the start of a major film franchise. It should have elevated Rod Taylor to the ranks of the era’s top action stars. None of these expectations were realized despite the fact that the movie expertly combines mystery, action, drama and romance with a unique protagonist.

The movie is based on the seventh in a series of 21 novels written by John D. MacDonald between 1964 and 1985 featuring Travis McGee, a self-described beach bum who lives on a houseboat called The Busted Flush in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. When not enjoying his sporadic retirement, he works as a “salvage consultant” in return for half of the value of whatever he retrieves for clients. Though he is not an official detective, he possesses intrinsic investigative skills and is an enemy to evildoers. On occasion, he may offer his services pro bono because he is also a knight-errant, though one with sullied armor. His best friend is Meyer Meyer, an economist who lives in a nearby cabin cruiser and who provides him with periodic philosophical advice.

Darker Than Amber was the first and last appearance of Travis McGee on cinema screens. The film’s box office failure may have been due in part to the inexperience of the relatively new studios that produced and distributed it. National General Pictures began distributing films in 1967, including their own productions as well as movies from Cinema Center Films, the recently-formed subsidiary of the CBS Television Network. NGP released McGee’s film debut, which was produced by CCF, with meagre publicity and it disappeared quickly from theaters. (CCF ceased production in 1972 and NGP stopped distributing films in 1973; Warner Bros. subsequently acquired the rights to all of NGP’s movies.)

As Darker Than Amber begins, McGee and Meyer are fishing in a skiff underneath a bridge when his line gets snagged by a woman who has been thrown over with weights tied to her feet. Travis saves her life and brings her back to his houseboat. Her name is Evangeline Bellemer and she is consumed with shame and guilt due to a shady past. Her despair combined with her stoic acceptance of pain intrigues McGee who becomes romantically involved with her. Unwisely, she makes the fatal mistake of leaving the houseboat to retrieve money from her apartment. McGee is infuriated by her fate as well as that of his friend, Burk, from whom he rented the skiff. His ensuing investigation leads him to Terry, Griff and Adele, a trio of crooks who used Vangie in a scam that victimized men on cruise ships. McGee hatches a plan of revenge with the help of Meyer and Merrimay, an actress who resembles Vangie. The plan will take him to Miami, to Nassau and back to Florida. But he underestimates his adversaries who will kill anyone that stands in their way. After Griff outfoxes him, he is only saved from a shallow grave by the appearance of a stray pup. And when his plan to manipulate Adele fails, he finds that he is no match for the ferociously demented Terry who proceeds to beat the living daylights out of him.

This was the first movie that Robert Clouse directed and it is an auspicious debut. Unlike many films in which the location photography serves as a travelogue, Clouse and cinematographer Frank Phillips authentically capture Florida’s leisurely sleaze along with its stunning splendor. He also utilizes peripheral characters to good effect, a good example being the diner scene with the maid Nicole. However, Clouse excels with the action sequences which are further enhanced by the credible exposition of the principle characters. Not only are McGee and Vangie well-defined but Terry and Griff also emerge as atypical villains courtesy of brief vignettes. Because of this, the inevitable clashes are not just exercises in wanton violence. While McGee’s bout with Griff is exciting, it is only a prelude to his eagerly-anticipated fracas with Terry. This bareknuckle brutal fight, which begins on the cruise ship and ends on the pier, is a thrillingly staged, bone-breaking, blood-splattering, vessel-bursting battle between two equally-pitiless antagonists whose only desire is to pummel the life out of one another.

In the screenplay credited to Ed Waters, the novel’s title loses its source. In the novel, Vangie is Eurasian and has dark hair and dark eyes with “irises a strange yellow-brown, just a little darker than amber.” In the movie, Vangie is blonde and no mention is made of her eyes. Then again, the title could pertain to the movie if it refers to something that is quite prominent in the fight sequence: blood. (According to the biography of John D. MacDonald, The Red Hot Typewriter, MacDonald disliked the script and contributed to major uncredited revisions with executive producer Jack Reeves.) Basically, the script follows the novel’s plotline fairly closely, one exception being McGee’s affair with Vangie, who elicits more sympathy than the novel’s callous prostitute. The ending of the film is also more poignant than that of the novel in which McGee is relatively unchanged by his experiences. In the film, the bruised and battered McGee looks sadly out to the sea, unable to forget the woman whose life he saved but whose death he was unable to prevent.

To commemorate the birthday of Sir David Lean on this date, writer JOE ELLIOTT examines his last feature film, "A Passage to India"

“Excuse my mistakes, realize my limitations. Life is not easy as we know it on the earth.” ― E.M. Forster, A Passage to India

Revisiting A Passage to India (1984) on Turner Classics the other night, I was struck in a way that I had never been before by how incredibly beautiful and powerful Judy Davis’s performance is in this movie. The plot of the film, based loosely on a 1924 novel by English writer E.M. Forster, revolves around the adventures of two Victorian English women in early 20th century India. The younger woman, Adela Quested, played by Davis, has come to that country with the likely intention of marrying a local British magistrate named Ronny Heaslop (Nigel Havers). She is accompanied on her sea voyage by Heaslop’s mother, known in the film simply as Mrs. Moore, played exquisitely by Peggy Ashcroft. The two women become good friends during the trip and share a disdain for the kind of English class snobbery they encounter upon their arrival. One hot afternoon they decide to take a day trip from the city, known as Chandrapore in the novel, where they have lodgings to visit the fictional Marabar Caves, a site reportedly based on the Barabar Caves in the Makhdumpur region of Jehanabad district, Bihar. Note: David Lean, the film’s director and writer, decided against shooting these scenes at Barabar because he felt the location lacked the scenic grandeur he so loved to showcase in his pictures.

During the outing, Mrs. Moore has an attack of severe claustrophobia while visiting the first cave -- a foreshadowing of her own death within a few short days. She insists that Adela and Dr. Aziz (Victor Banerjee), a young Indian physician whose idea it was to visit the caverns, continue their sightseeing without her. Shortly after this an incident occurs (or does it?) involving the couple. We see a frantic Adela running down a steep ravine in a state of great agitation, as if being chased by someone. (In an important earlier linking scene we saw her riding her bicycle alone on the outskirts of town where she encountered a number of highly erotic Indian statues abandoned in the tall grass; an experience which clearly left her emotionally shaken.) Upon returning to Chandrapore, Aziz is shocked to find himself accused of attempted rape. He is immediately arrested and jailed to await trial. All this is prelude to the moment when Adela takes the witness stand for the prosecution

Among my favorite classic American film is Alice Adams (1935), the early Katherine Hepburn vehicle. There is a moment in that movie when director George Stevens puts the young actress’s face fully in frame (just as David Lean does in Passage with Davis, but with less tenderness) holding it there as she muses on small-town social snobbery. “People do talk about you, oh yes they do…,” Alice says in her silly, heartbreaking manner. There is something of this same unsparing, introspective quality in the climatic courtroom scene with Adela: there is much more, too. Two lives hang in the balance here, the life of the accused and that of his accuser. What Adela says or doesn’t say at that moment will forever determine not only Aziz’s fate, but hers as well. She can either choose to save face by remaining silent on the matter, or risk destroying everything by speaking up. Everything hinges on her decision. I am reminded of those famous lines from T.S. Eliot: Do I dare/ Disturb the universe? / In a minute there is time / For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse… So how should I presume?

In 2013, writer Noel Murray presented a fine article in the AV/TV Club web site that examined the origins and enduring appeal of the classic 1960s spy series "The Avengers", which was actually inspired by a previous TV series, "Police Surgeon". Murray tracked the sensational reaction to the show in the UK and its subsequent appearance on American television. He also outlined the interesting casting with star Patrick Macnee benefiting from two strong female leads- Honor Blackman and her successor Diana Rigg. Most intriguingly, Murray pointed out that the overall quirky appeal of the show is best illustrated by the 1965 episode "Death at Bargain Prices" (telecast in 1966 in the USA). Click here to read.

(Thanks to Nick Sheffo or Fulvuedrivein.com for the heads up on this article.)

BY LEE PFEIFFER

Chances are you never heard of Oscar Micheaux. However, if you read about his remarkable life, you'll be impressed- especially if you are a retro movie lover. Micheaux was a pioneer in African-American cinema. Like most black people, he was appalled by the content of D.W. Griffith's 1915 cinematic sensation "Birth of a Nation". While the film was a landmark in terms of its technical achievements, it was also one of the most racist films the industry would ever produce, extolling the Ku Klux Klan as heroes while vilifying black men as dangers to civilized society. Micheaux, an industrious young man, had already found success writing and publishing novels. In 1918, he decided to also try his hand at making movies. In those days many theaters were still segregated and Micheaux made intelligent, adult films for black audiences. They became sensations with grateful viewers who were sickened by seeing members of their race depicted in degrading manners in mainstream Hollywood production.s. Micheaux would go on to make 44 films and had just started to bridge the gap into desegregated cinema when he passed away. Writing in The Daily Beast, Gil Troy looks back on the life and career of this under-appreciated filmmaker. Click here to read. 

Joe Dante's addictive "Trailers from Hell" web site presents the original trailer for Jerry Lewis's 1964 madcap comedy "The Disorderly Orderly", one of his best solo efforts. The trailer has a commentary track by John Landis, who provides a lot of fun facts in the brief running time. For instance, he informs us that the film was shot at the famed Greystone Mansion, which was also where key scenes from the film "Westworld" were shot. On top of that, there are snippets of Sammy Davis Jr. singing the title song...

For hundreds of other trailers with commentary tracks, visit www.trailersfromhell.com