The TV Show:

“There are eight million stories in the Naked City. This has been one of them.”

Naked City, based on the 1948 film noir staple and running on ABC in 1958-1963, is one vintage detective show that benefited greatly from being filmed on location throughout New York City. As with cinematic effort it’s based on, the setting is a much of a character in TV’s Naked City as the central group of NYPD detectives who spend each episode uncovering those “eight million stories.” There was another benefit to the series being an East coast-based production, as well. Having a New York-based police series shot right there in the neighborhoods where the stories took place was a nice enough advantage over their sterile, studio-bound counterparts in L.A. Naked City‘s producers, however, also made liberal use New York’s fertile pool of acting talent to play the various hoodlums, also-rans, shady ladies, crime victims and Joe Schmoes who flit in and out of these tales.

This is where Image Entertainment’s 5-DVD collection Naked City: 20 Star-Filled Episodes comes in. The episodes in this collection contain well-known actors in guest roles, smaller parts played by the soon-to-be-famous, or a combination of both. This allows for a good cross-section of stories from all four of the show’s seasons, although there are only two episodes from Naked City‘s earlier incarnation as a half-hour procedural. Beefed up to an hour and recast with new actors and characters, the show was substantiated into its most memorable form, led by tight-lipped actor Paul Burke as Detective Adam Flint. Solid support was lent by Harry Bellaver as Detective Frank Arcaro and Horace McMahon as Lieutenant Mike Parker. The series was something of a foreshadowing of the Law & Order franchise with its rich use of location footage and scripts that were influenced by the criminal activities of the day. The mutual respect between Flint and his co-workers played a big part in the series’ success, along with the mature relationship depicted between Flint and his girlfriend Libby, played by Nancy Malone.

Since my DVD Talk colleague Ian Jane already did a good job reviewing this set, I’m going to use the rest of this review to outline the contents of each disc, along with credits and screen grabs. The new-to-DVD episodes on this set are highlighted in orange.

Disc One

Sweet Prince of Delancey Street
Season 2, Episode 30; Original airdate: June 7, 1961
Directed by Alex March, written by Sy Salkowitz and Howard Rodman.

Robert Morse stars in this episode as a disturbed young man who is implicated in the murder of a security guard at the factory where his father had been callously laid off. A young Dustin Hoffman also appears as Morse’s weaselly friend.

Portrait of a Painter
Season 3, Episode 14; Original airdate: January 10, 1962
Directed by David Lowell Rich, written by Howard Rodman and Mel Goldberg.

This beatnik-influenced episode stars William Shatner as a mentally unstable artist who awakens in his locked studio with his wife’s bloody corpse nearby. Seeking asylum with his psychiatrist (Theodore Bikel), Shatner is sure of his own guilt, but the NYPD detectives believe there’s something else afoot.

The Night the Saints Lost Their Halos
Season 3, Episode 15; Original airdate: January 16, 1962
Directed by Elliot Silverstein, written by Abram S. Ginnes.

Jo Van Fleet and Peter Fonda contribute good performances to this story of a doctor (Van Fleet) who becomes concerned when the young man she’s been caring for like a son (Fonda) becomes attracted to the criminal life. A young Martin Sheen plays Fonda’s hoodlum buddy.

The One Marked Hot Gives Cold
Season 3, Episode 23; Original airdate: March 21, 1962
Directed by David Lowell Rich, written by Abram S. Ginnes.

Seeking information on his father, a volatile adoptee named Frank (Robert Duvall) steals information from the orphanage where he was dropped off at the age of six. After the Frank’s father is located, Frank arouses the concern of Flint and the NYPD over his relationship with a 12 year-old girl.

Disc Two

Down the Long Night
Season 2, Episode 4; Original airdate: November 2, 1960
Directed by Paul Wendkos, written by Charles Beaumont.

Lelie Nielsen guest stars in this episode as a man named Norm who approaches the NYPD to help with his harassing (and mentally unbalanced) former neighbor, Max (Nehemiah Persoff).

To Walk In Silence
Season 2, Episode 5; Original airdate: November 9, 1960
Directed by Roger Kay, written by Barry Trivers.

Beloved cinema icon Claude Rains headlines this nail-biter as a Wall Street investment manager who, out of fear of damaging his reputation, refuses to aid the NYPD investigation of a shooting he witnessed. Deborah Walley and Telly Savalas also appear in this episode.

Shoes for Vinnie Winford
Season 2, Episode 17; Original airdate: March 1, 1961
Directed by Elliot Silverstein, written by Ellis Kadison.

This installment revolves around Dennis Hopper’s character Vinnie Winford, a corporate tycoon/mama’s boy who secretly runs a burlesque house on the side. When a dancer goes missing, Flint and company’s investigation brings to light Vinnie’s abusive treatment of the women.

Tombstone for a Derelict
Season 2, Episode 21; Original airdate: April 5, 1961
Directed by Elliot Silverstein, written by Howard Rodman.

Four disturbed young men go on a killing rampage, striking homeless men in seemingly random fashion. The NYPD investigation reveals it as the work of a neo-Nazi group who commit the murders as a political statement. A young Robert Redford plays one of the hoodlums.

Disc Three

Alive and Still a Second Lieutenant
Season 4, Episode 24; Original airdate: March 6, 1963
Directed by Ralph Senensky, written by Shimon Whincelberg.

The detectives investigate a white-collar man found dead over a parking space altercation. Robert Sterling plays the guilty businessman eluding the cops, but the main reason for this episode’s inclusion here is a young John Voight, who appears in one scene.

A Hole in the City
Season 2, Episode 13; Original airdate: February 1, 1961
Directed by David Lowell Rich, written by Howard Rodman.

After machine gun-toting hoodlums stage a rampage in and around Yankee Stadium, they take refuge in the apartment of the group’s nutty ringleader. When the police arrive, it explodes into a tense hostage situation. Great vehicle for Sylvia Sidney as the aunt and a young Robert Duvall as criminal Lewis Nunda. Pre-Mary Tyler Moore Show Ed Asner also appears in this episode.

Bullets Cost Too Much
Season 2, Episode 10; Original airdate: January 4, 1961
Directed by Buzz Kulik, written by Samuel Marx and Lewis Meltzer.

In this eventful episode, the police force’s competency is called into question when the off-duty Burke must deal with the aftermath of being present at an armed robbery at a cocktail lounge. TV legend Dick York guests as a doctor treating one of the hold-up men. Jean Stapleton, Bruce Dern and James Caan (credited as “Jimmy”) also appear.

Prime of Life
Season 4, Episode 21; Original airdate: February 13, 1963
Directed by Walter Grauman, written by Stirling Siliphant.

Detective Flint is sent to the local prison to witness the execution of a murderer that he helped put away. Flashbacks tell the story of how the killer got to death row. A young Gene Hackman appears as one of the other execution witnesses.

Disc Four

Robin Hood and Clarence Darrow, They Went Out with the Bow and Arrow
Season 4, Episode 17; Original airdate: January 9, 1963
Directed by Stuart Rosenberg, written by Abram S. Ginnes.

In this tense hour, Eddie Albert plays a liquor store owner who becomes fed up with being the victim and arms himself after witnessing his friend getting gunned down in his own shop. A very young Christopher Walken (credited as Ronnie Walken) appears in a few scenes as Albert’s son.

Lady Bug, Lady Bug
Season 1, Episode 11; Original airdate: December 9, 1958
Directed by Stuart Rosenberg, written by Stirling Silliphant.

In one of the earlier episodes (before Naked City was retooled, recast and expanded to an hour-long format), a business tycoon (Leon B. Stevens) becomes the victim of an extortionist’s scheme an innocent young girl and the man’s apathetic son. A pre-stardom Peter Falk plays the extortionist.

One of the Most Important Men in the Whole World
Season 3, Episode 17; Original airdate: January 31, 1962
Directed by Paul Nickell, written by Eustace Cockrell and Howard Rodman.

Richard Conte headlines this flashback-heavy episode as a mobster who pressures a schoolteacher to give his troubled son straight As in his classes. A widower, Conte is using any means necessary to convince child protective services that he’s a fit father, a better guardian than the boy’s supportive aunt (Anne Seymour). I’m not sure if Conte was a big enough actor to merit being on this set, but the episode contains a bit from Doris Roberts as well.

Line of Duty
Season 1, Episode 3; Original airdate: October 14, 1958
Directed by Stuart Rosenberg, written by Stirling Siliphant.

Another early half-hour episode, this story revolves around series regular Detective Jimmy Halloran (James Franciscus) as he harbors lingering guilt over the shooting death of a fleeing criminal. A young Diane Ladd appears as one of the victim’s grieving relatives.

Disc Five

Spectre of the Rose Street Gang
Season 4, Episode 14; Original airdate: December 19, 1962
Directed by James Sheldon, written by Jerome Gruskin and Alvin Sargent.

When the long-decomposed skeleton of a teenage boy is discovered at a construction site, the now middle-aged men involved with the boy’s disappearance make arrangements to elude the police’s investigation. One participant is not so willing to hide, however. Jack Warden and Carroll O’Connor are among the guest stars.

The Multiplicity of Herbert Konish
Season 3, Episode 29; Original airdate: May 23, 1962
Directed by David Lowell Rich, written by Ernest Kinoy.

Detective Flint and team investigate a mild-mannered gentleman (David Wayne) who has created elaborate alternate personalities for himself to escape the mundanity of his daily life. Jean Stapleton and Nancy Marchand also appear in this episode.

The Pedigree Sheet
Season 2, Episode 2; Original airdate: October 19, 1960
Directed by John Brahm, written by Stirling Siliphant.

An investigation of a car accident that left two dead – one by a bullet wound – leads Flint and team to a beautiful young woman (Suzanne Pleshette) who is unwilling to cooperate with the detectives. Al “Grandpa” Lewis also appears in this compelling episode.

The Tragic Success of Alfred Tiloff
Season 3, Episode 6; Original airdate: November 8, 1961
Directed by Alex March, written by Howard Rodman and Leonard Bishop.

Jack Klugman and Jan Sterling contribute fine performances to this episode, as a pair of petty criminals who target a millionaire for ransom money after they kidnap a young girl.

The DVDs:

Video:

While it isn’t as consistent as it could be, many of the episodes on Naked City: 20 Star-Filled Episodes were taken from sharp-looking original film prints. The image occasionally show signs of dust and wear, but they generally look as nice as when they were first broadcast. With each disc holding four episodes (150-200 minutes running time total), the quality mastering job makes the series’ gritty photography look good.

Audio:

The music track on these mono soundtracks sometimes gets a bit shrill, but on the average the dialogue is clear and pleasant. There are no alternate soundtracks or subtitle options on these episodes.

Extras:

None.

Final Thoughts:

Naked City: 20 Star-Filled Episodes adds to the frustration that fans of the gritty ’60s detective series must be feeling, since complete season sets are still not forthcoming – and 11 of these episodes have already been released on disc. On its own terms, however, it’s a nice package that plays up this proto-Law & Order police procedural’s strengths. Recommended.

Matt Hinrichs is a designer, artist and sometime writer who lives in sunny (and usually too hot) Phoenix, Arizona. Among his loves are oranges, going barefoot and blonde 1930s movie comedienne Joyce Compton. Since 2000, he has been scribbling away at Pop Culture weblog Scrubbles.net. One can also follow him on Twitter @4colorcowboy.

Tasty collection of minor B-grade noirs. Sony’s Choice Collection vault of hard-to-find cult and library titles has released Film Noir Collection – Volume 1, a five-disc, five movie collection that includes Columbia B mellers 1958’s The Case Against Brooklyn, 1951’s Criminal Lawyer, 1955’s The Crooked Web, 1957’s Escape From San Quentin, and 1956’s The Shadow on the Window. Two original trailers are included as extras for these sharp transfers―all in their correct ratios. Let’s look very briefly at each movie.

THE CASE AGAINST BROOKLYN

Brooklyn. Kings County, New York State. District Attorney Michael W. Norris (Tol Avery) wants to know what Deputy Commissioner of Police Personnel Rogers (Dan Riss) is going to do about televised reports concerning collusion between corrupt cops and mob-owned bookie joints and horse rooms in Brooklyn. When Rogers suggests rotating everyone out of their assignments, Norris says that’s not enough: the cancer has to be cut out of the heart of the Brooklyn force. And to do that, Norris wants his own private police unit, culled from the not-yet-corrupted police academy recruits, to infiltrate the various aspects of the Brooklyn criminal underworld to root out the dirty cops. Enter Pete Harris (Darren McGavin, trying to break into leading man roles before going back to TV with Riverboat), a rookie cop who’s a bit older than his compatriots due to a 10-year stint in Marine Intelligence. Bummed about starting over at his age, Pete grabs at the chance to jumpstart his career, and soon he’s moving out of his apartment where his pretty wife (Peggy McCay) lives, and getting his own bachelor pad so he can score with Lil Polombo (Margaret Hayes). Lil, the widow of produce trucker Gus Polombo (Joe De Santis) who committed suicide when mob bookies threatened to kill him for unpaid gambling debts, is friends with mob runner/henchman Rudi Franklin (Warren Stevens), and Pete wants to nail him bad…when Pete’s wife winds up dead.

 Written by “Raymond T. Marcus” (blacklisted scripter Bernard Gordon: Hellcats of the Navy, Chicago Confidential, The Day of the Triffids) and fellow blacklistee, Julian Zimet (Psyche 59, Circus World, Crack in the World), based on a True Magazine article, I Broke the Brooklyn Graft Scandal by investigative reporter Ed Reid, The Case Against Brooklyn is a snappy, violent noir programmer benefiting from good performances, solid production values (Fred Jackman Jr.’s shadowy black and white cinematography is terrific), and a deft directorial touch from sophomore director Paul Wendkos (Gidget, The Mephisto Waltz, The Legend of Lizzie Borden). Opening with a intriguingly contradictory tone of realism (the credits are a case file taken out of a briefcase) and storybook telling (a title card reads, “Brooklyn…a very few years ago.”), Gordon’s and Zimet’s story jumps right in with its central theme: Brooklyn is “sewn up” between collaborating cops and the mob, and anyone who’s stupid enough to try and unravel that lucrative arrangement is going to die. Their Brooklyn is a deeply cynical, corrupt one where “the law belongs to the highest bidder,” with illicit money providing “the grease for the wheels of [perverted] justice.” Although The Case Against Brooklyn doesn’t show any high-level officials in on the graft (the notion that the D.A. didn’t already know about any of these shenanigans is of course, laughable), the storyline makes it clear that from lowly beat cop to precinct captain, and from numbers runner to mob chieftain, the two supposedly opposing forces are actually symbiotically linked.

 Darren McGavin’s abrasive, unsympathetic rookie cop is a recognizable noir type: fiercely obsessed with his own personal gain (“I gotta make it!” the older rookie insists to his wife), and completely dismissive of his friends’ and family’s feelings in favor of getting his job done―regardless of the moral cost. When pushed about how far he’ll go with Hayes to get information, the happily married cop preens for his “date” with Hayes and makes it clear to his buddy Jess (played by future Where Eagles Dare director Brian J. Hutton) he’ll go all the way. When experienced cop Hutton keeps warning McGavin that he Hutton has been “made” by mobster Finelli (Nestor Paiva), McGavin still pushes him to go back on stakeout…where Robert Osterloh’s crooked cop Bonney is waiting to plug him. Even when SPOILERS ALERT! McGavin’s wife is blown up, his pursuit of Stevens seems motivated out of personal affront, rather than from avenging his beloved wife (ironically, McGavin seems good with that tragic development rather quickly…). Director Wendkos, an underrated helmer who did fine work on both the big and small screen, brings some nice touches throughout the surprisingly detailed Charles H. Schneer production (the car horn blaring as hoods beat up De Santis, cutting back and forth between the cops and the hoods watching Reid’s televised expose), keeping The Case Against Brooklyn on zippy track as an entertaining noir programmer.

 CRIMINAL LAWYER

Fast-talkin’, hard-drinkin’ Irish lawyer James “Jimmy” Regan (Pat O’Brien) has the hottest law firm in the city: if you want to beat the rap, and you don’t mind a lawyer who’s willing to pull some iffy legal tricks, then Jimmy’s your man. Backed up by aide Maggie Powell (Jane Wyatt), lawyer partner/pedestrian schmoe Clark Sommers (Robert Shayne), and bodyguard “Moose” Hendricks (Mike Mazurki), Jimmy helps mobster Vincent Cheney (Mickey Knox) escape the chair with one of his patented gimmicks. Tired of such shenanigans, Jimmy makes an announcement: after hearing he may be up for a judgeship on the state supreme court, he’s retiring and turning the practice over to jealous Clark. When that proposed appointment doesn’t go through, because the bar association doesn’t want anything to do with a cheap hustler like Regan, Jimmy goes on the mother of all benders, before loving Maggie comes to the rescue. It seems that one of the bar’s stuffy members, Melville Webber, has a son, Bill (Darryl Hickman), who killed a guy drunk driving. Jimmy helps Clark with the case, but the grieving wife of the victim sets Jimmy off on yet another drunken spree, only to claw his way back again to sobriety when Moose is charged with murder.

 It’s acknowledged even among the experts in the genre that nobody knows what the hell really constitutes the parameters of the noir genre, so if Sony’s Choice Collection wants to call bland courtroom drama Criminal Lawyer a noir…so be it. Written by Harold R. Greene (Counterspy Meets Scotland Yard, Texas Across the River), and directed by Seymour Friedman (The Crime Doctor’s Diary, The Son of Dr. Jekyll, The Saint’s Girl Friday), Criminal Lawyer‘s thoroughly familiar stock situations shouldn’t surprise anyone who grew up on all those great Warner Bros., Columbia, and RKO, and Universal serial antecedents (especially with O’Brien in the cast, Criminal Lawyer has the feel of a long-lost 30s WB meller). Displaying that flat, over-lit look of cheap television, Criminal Lawyer‘s suspect noir visual schematic is just as elusive as any other tangible evidence that this one should be considered within the genre. Sure, O’Brien’s drunken lawyer has fits of melancholia and self-destructiveness when he surveys the moral quandary that is his profession…but Father Knows Best‘s chipper legal aide Wyatt neatly dusts those qualms aside (“You can’t pick and choose” who to defend, she calmly tells O’Brien), and that’s the end of it. Ethical quagmire drained. Pedestrian in the extreme (with a curiously weak, tired-acting O’Brien), Criminal Lawyer‘s structure is unexciting both in conception and execution, with this anonymous, bloodlessly efficient programmer playing more like a proposed TV pilot for one of those early syndicated strips, rather than as a nasty noir B (it’s not exactly surprising to see that the uninspired Friedman went on to a far more successful career as a production manager with Columbia’s Screen Gems television division). Certainly the weakest entry here in the Film Noir Collection – Volume 1.

 THE CROOKED WEB

Ex-G.I. Stan Fabian (Frank Lovejoy), owner of L.A.’s Stan’s drive-in, likes to play the ponies, but he has a sure thing in fast filly Joanie Daniel (Mari Blanchard), one of his chromium-plated blonde car hops. When Joanie’s creepy brother Frank (Richard Denning) comes by, though, the tension mounts for the threesome. You see, Frank has a scam going with partner Ray Torres (Steven Rich), where he needs some dough to get over to Europe and recover $200K worth of stolen WWII gold booty buried in a German chateau. Well, Stan can’t resist the odds, so he throws in with Frank, much to Joanie’s annoyance, until Stan agrees to marry her and make the trip a honeymoon―with Frank making room for Stan by zapping his partner, Ray. The only problem is, once the trio get to Germany, the U.S. army cordons off the chateau. And even more disturbing…everyone might not seem to be who they say they are here.

0 1Written by Lou Breslow (lots of fun titles like Murder, He Says, Bud Abbott and Lou Costello in Hollywood, Merton of the Movies, and Bedtime for Bonzo), and directed by exploitation standby Nathan Juran (The Deadly Mantis, 20 Million Miles to Earth, The 7th Voyage of Sinbad), The Crooked Web may falter once it goes overseas, when conventional plotting and the lack of a smasheroo finale belay the movie’s derivative nature. However, it’s a lot of fun before that vaguely unsatisfying quickie fade-out. Beginning with some terrific shots of late 1950s L.A., lensed in overbaked, hard-on-the-eyes black and white by whiz Henry Freulich (Blondie movies, Ambush at Tomahawk Gap, TV’s Dennis the Menace), The Crooked Web set me up but good with what I thought was going to be a standard but engaging noir, with better-than-B-programmer personnel in front of the camera. But as fellow DVDTalk reviewer Stuart Galbraith IV so correctly observed, The Crooked Web completely tricked me with a rather remarkable plot twist I didn’t see coming at all.

2 3MAJOR SPOILERS ALERT! Now…I did see the twist coming of Denning and Blanchard not being related―no brother is supposed to look at his sister that way. However, the revelation that “bad guys” Denning and Blanchard are really working undercover to bust “good guy” Lovejoy came right out of left field―and if you’ve seen as many movies as Stuart and I have, that’s saying something. Breslow and Juran set up our noir genre expectations beautifully, making Blanchard a brassy, drunken harpy, too-slick, smarmy Denning a “horn-happy creep,” and stolid, good-guy Lovejoy a “natural born umpire” willing to forgive and forget any slight. I was absolutely positive that I knew where The Crooked Web was going: Denning and Blanchard were setting up poor slob Lovejoy to take his money and his drive-in, driving him to homicidal fury when the scam sunk in. Wrong. Once we learn what Lovejoy did in the war―cold-bloodedly killed a kid M.P. while running his black market operations―Lovejoy’s regular guy persona takes on a decidedly weird, unsettling tone, and we start to watch his performance more closely for clues to see where his character is going. Unfortunately, Breslow and Juran stop there at that cool twist, with both failing to actually dramatize and expand on the thematic and visual possibilities (especially potent within the conflicted, twilight moral framework of noir conventions) inherent in these “dual” personalities. A sweet plot switcheroo, ultimately, is just that, and no more, when it could have informed The Crooked Web with a fascinating subtext. Instead, we go off to Germany (care of the studio mock-ups and stock footage), where everything eventually gets matter-of-fact and predictable. Too bad…but it’s still fun to watch.

4 5ESCAPE FROM SAN QUENTIN

Ex-Air Force flier and now dopey con Mike Gilbert (Johnny Desmond) only has two years left on his stint in San Quentin and he is out, you dig But cellmate Roy Gruber (Richard Devon) has other ideas; he’s been grooming Mike as a buddy for years just for this moment. Wheedling a transfer for the two of them to the California Board of Correction’s Camp #41 work farm, Roy plans on walking out of the medium-security camp and crossing the road to the nearby airfield, where Mike will hotwire a plane and they’ll both skedaddle for parts unknown. Not so fast, amigo. Mike wants nothing to do with the scheme, but when he learns that his wife is leaving him, he drunkenly agrees to go with Roy. Too bad laughing leech Hap Graham (Roy Engel) comes along for the ride; Roy is forced to kick him out of the plane as they take off. Hap survives, though, and back with his gang, he’s planning on tracking down Roy and Mike, looking to score all that money Roy promised him….

6 7Well…Escape From San Quentin’s Work Farm, you mean…. A typically speedy, bare-bones effort from producer Sam Katzman and director/human dynamo Fred F. Sears (he would die of a heart attack two months after Escape was released; he had six movies come out in 1957), Escape From San Quentin doesn’t pack quite the pulpy exploitation punch you’d expect from that production team. A gloppy, too-jumpy script from Bernard Gordon (under his blacklistee alias, “Raymond T. Marcus”) doesn’t help matters, taking the focus off the prison (we get some stock shots of the slammer, and one brief studio mock-up) and the prison farm, and settling instead for various hotel room mock-ups as the criminals try to double cross each other all over Mexico. A romantic subplot featuring Merry Anders as Desmond’s kid sister-in-law doesn’t work, either, within the supposed noir framework because her love is neither corruptive (she’s a “good girl”) nor redemptive (he’s not a hard case…no matter how much he postures). Familiar character actor Richard Devon (Magnum Force: “I mean their minds are dead!”) pretty much walks away with the acting honors, bringing a focused, sly calculation to his line readings that at least clues us in that he’s aware of the movie’s expected conventions. Popular singer Desmond (honest…I never heard of him before this), however, has a difficult time going the Presley route, with his limited acting skills leaving the movie seriously unbalanced against Devon. Neither a prison picture nor a memorable noir, Escape From San Quentin doesn’t live up to its exciting title, nor the promise implied by its more-than-capable production team.

8 9THE SHADOW ON THE WINDOW

Little Petey Atlas (Jerry Mathers), playing outside the farm house where his mother, Linda Atlas (Betty Garrett), is picking up work as a secretary, hears his mother screaming and runs to the farm house window. Inside, he sees punks Jess Reber (John Drew Barrymore), Gil Ramsey (Corey Allen), and Joey Gomez (Gerald Sarracini) menacing his mother and killing the old farmer. Traumatized into catatonia, Petey wanders down the road until a pair of kindly truckers pick him up. Eventually brought to the police station, the silent Petey is recognized, and his father, copper Tony Atlas (Philip Carey), who has been separated from Petey and Linda for six months, tries to communicate with the boy…and fails. Soon, it’s a race against time as Tony must frantically search for the whereabouts of Linda, before those thrill-kill punks finish off their only witness.

0 1The Desperate Hours Meet The Window. Is it possible for a director to get profoundly worse as is career takes off Written by David P. Harmon (lots of TV, like Man With a Camera and Gilligan’s Island) and Leo Townsend (Night and Day, Beach Blanket Bingo), The Shadow on the Window plot may remind us of better thrillers, but there’s no denying that its director, William Asher (Bewitched, all the Beach Party movies) puts over this familiar material with a clean, uncluttered hand. Now, I’m a huge fan of those silly, delightful goofs, but “clean” and “uncluttered” are adjectives that will never be used to describe those drive-in exploiters. Was The Shadow on the Window‘s efficient, suspenseful style due to Asher’s relatively novice hands…or did the movie come out so polished thanks to Columbia’s B-unit pros Hard to say…but it works, either way, playing the story straight with little pandering to the hysterical, particularly during the opening half of the movie, when marvelous child actor Jerry Mathers sets an unsettling tone with his noirish mute witness to the murder (he can qualify as both noir innocent victim, and noir “other,” if you will, with a physical limitation manifested due to the killers’ moral vacuum). The killers are well drawn noir villains―Allen the outwardly reasonable, rational killer; Sarracini the slow-witted, kindly protector of Linda who can also be uncontrollably violent; and Barrymore the stone-cold psychotic―while Garrett and Carey underplay their roles admirably. Undemanding, perhaps, but a satisfying, entertaining noir.

2 3The DVD:

The Video:
With the exception of Criminal Lawyer, which is properly 1.37:1, the rest of the movies here are anamorphically-enhanced, 1.85:1 widescreen black and white transfers, with unexpectedly sharp images, solid blacks, little if any grain or screen imperfects, and no compression issues. Quite, quite nice for these minor titles.

The Audio:
The Dolby Digital English split mono audio tracks are fine, with moderate to low hiss and fluctuation. No subtitles or closed-captions available.

The Extras:
Original trailers for Criminal Lawyer and The Shadow on the Window are included.

Final Thoughts:
With the exception of Criminal Lawyer, which just lays there, the rest of the titles included here in the Film Noir Collection – Volume 1 are quite entertaining. Anyone into the noir genre will want to see these minor outings to fill out their resumes. The excellent transfers are big, big plus. I’m highly recommending Film Noir Collection – Volume 1.

Paul Mavis is an internationally published movie and television historian, a member of the Online Film Critics Society, and the author of The Espionage Filmography.

4 5

THE PROGRAM

“Whatever Happened to Baby Jane” is no easy film to classify; without a doubt, the dual-lead performances by Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, the former of who secured an Academy Award nomination for, are worth the price of multiple admissions. The difficulty lies in whether “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane” is a legitimately classic psychological thriller or merely an exercise in campy acting and preposterous plotting that is irresistible to the human eye. Masterfully directed by Robert Aldrich, the 1962 film, based on a novel of the same title, tells the tale of sisters Blanche (Crawford) and “Baby Jane” Hudson (Davis), the latter a child star whose shine tarnished later in life as her sister’s foray into acting took off full steam. Things take an irrevocable turn at the end of the film’s prologue when one of the sisters (it’s clearly shown) causes a tragic accident that ends the career of Blanche by leaving her paralyzed from the waist down.

As the film’s opening titles come to a close, viewers are introduced to the now older sisters, holed-up tight in a mansion, with the psychotic in appearance and demeanor, “Baby Jane” caring (to use the term loosely) for his bed-ridden sister. The film starts of quite strongly, revealing Jane’s cruel treatment and psychological torture of her sister through verbal abuse and mockingly serving Blanche’s beloved parakeet on a platter for lunch. All the while, Jane cackles like a madwoman, eyes wide with lunacy and a face caked with horrific make-up, a constant reminder that Jane tragically clings to her career, decades long past. Davis’ performance is, to use a truly clichéd phrase, absolutely electric and eventually overshadows much of the film’s massive shortcomings and leaps in logic. The role is a marked departure from the actresses’ prior efforts in melodramas and there’s no doubt, Davis is having fun in the role. Subtler though, is Crawford’s performance as Blanche; Crawford perfectly captures the physically broken and emotionally unraveling hostage to Jane’s madness. In the hands of a lesser actress, Blanche would feel more like an object necessary to let Davis go wild, but Crawford brings dignity to the role and truly earns her double-billing.

Where “What Happened to Baby Jane” goes off the rails, ever so-slightly, but enough to deny it of masterpiece status, is its eventually meandering plot, revolving around Jane’s own manipulation by con-man Edwin Flagg (Victor Buono, in an Oscar nominated performance originally meant for Peter Lawford), as well as a bevy of supporting characters who may be the dumbest ever written and put on the screen in such a solidly produced and otherwise, well acted film. As Flagg’s fleecing of Jane increases, it serves as a catalyst for Jane to increase her horrific behavior and treatment of her sister to the point of criminality; the film teases possible discovery by outsiders, including the sisters’ long-suffering maid, but the story undermines the brilliant tension Aldrich creates by quickly and illogically resolving these teases. At 133 minutes, the film struggles to firmly cement true terror with all these false moments and the resolution, while shocking and memorable, feels morbidly comedic as a result.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t praise Ernest Haller’s exquisite cinematography, which next to the performances of Davis, Crawford, and Buono (who earns his nomination, but whose own over-the-top performance feels lacking alongside Davis’) is another necessary reason the film screams to be watched. While filmed and set in the 1960s, Haller manages to give the film the look of a late-40s to early-50s piece and the result is a sinister time capsule in which the Hudson sisters are locked. Frankly, “What Ever Happened to Baby Jane” is a very, very good film, but for more than a few unintentional reasons. On repeat viewings Davis’ performance is a guilty pleasure that one revels in, rather than fears and the stupidity of the supporting cast will always garner chuckles and eye-rolls. It’s the rare film that can truly horrify in certain instances, yet provide tremendous entertainment as pure camp; in other words, mandatory viewing.

THE DVD

The Video

The 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer is incredibly crisp and vibrant, capturing the look of a bygone era, despite being produced in the early 60s; knowing this fact makes one appreciate the quality of the transfer all the more. Contrast levels are spot-on, key to building suspense without losing detail in any number of the film’s dark, brooding scenes. Detail is well above average with no signs of digital tinkering or compression artifacts.

The Audio

The Dolby Digital English mono soundtrack is a very clear, clean mix. At times it could easily be mistaken for a stereo track with its perfect balance between music, dialogue and effects, with no single element feeling lost in the shuffle.

The Extras

Disc one contains a feature-length commentary by Charles Busch and John Epperson; while not film scholars, the duo is a solid choice to discuss the film’s high camp factor. Disc two contains three full documentaries including “Bette and Joan: Blind Ambition,” “All About Bette,” and “Film Profile: Joan Crawford.” Rounding out these features are a brief making-of featurette titled “Behind the Scenes with Baby Jane” and an excerpt from “The Andy Williams Show” featuring Bette Davis.

Final Thoughts

While just a tad bloated and populated by poorly written supporting characters, “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane” isn’t a film you’ll watch nor revisit for any reason but to watch Davis and Crawford work their magic. The performances from both women show that camp is just as much an art form as serious drama and the result, especially in Davis’ case, is a career highlight performance. Add to that, a solid technical offering from Warner and this is a disc waiting to find a home on your shelf. “Highly Recommended.”

Whooooooaaaaa! Cartoon Network and Warner Bros. have released Regular Show: Party Pack 3 (although it doesn’t say “3” anywhere on the packaging), a single-disc, 16-episode collection of Cartoon Network’s hit cartoon (and my current favorite toon on television). A fairly good cross section of episodes from the series, most of Regular Show: Party Pack 3‘s toons will amuse…and the sight of Pops singing Footloose alone may be worth the price of admission here. No extras for these digitally perfect anamorphic transfers.

The show’s set-up is simple. 23-year-old, six-foot tall blue jay Mordecai (voice talent of J.G. Quintel), a former art school student, now works as a groundskeeper at a city park. His best friend, 23-year-old raccoon, Rigby (voice talent of William Salyers), a high school drop-out, works alongside him…although “work” is a relative term for the two slackers. Constantly harangued to finish their assignments by their rage-filled boss, park manager and living gumball machine Benson (voice talent of Sam Marin), Mordecai and Rigby look for any excuse to ditch their meaningless, menial labor chores in the search for distraction, which usually comes at the end of a pair of video game controllers. Also working at the park are Skips (voice talent of Mark Hamill), an immortal yeti who can fix anything, Muscle Man (voice talent of Sam Marin), a little green gnome with a pudgy physique in direct inverse proportion to his macho, insulting self-image, High Five Ghost (voice talent of J.G. Quintel), a body-less ghost with a hand sticking out of his head, and Pops (voice talent of Sam Marin), a quavery-voiced older man with a head the size of a giant lolly, and the son of the park’s owner, who naively lives in his own quaint, antiquated world. Mordecai is more responsible than Rigby (only just), and he has a crush on Margaret (voice talent of Janie Haddad)), a five-foot tall red-breasted robin who works at the nearby coffee shop with her friend, Eileen (voice talent of Minty Lewis), a mole. But that matters little since impulsive, violent Rigby often predicates a cosmic disaster in each episode, frequently involving bizarre, strange beings from other worlds unwittingly unleashed by the boys, ready to destroy the unlikely duo, the park, and Earth.

 Last November, I wrote a review for Regular Show: The Best DVD in the World* (*at this moment in time), which pretty much summed up my thoughts about the show’s aesthetics and goals, so I won’t rehash all that that same material here (you can read that review here). Suffice it to say (as I wrote before), Regular Show consistently delivers those deceptively calm-then-frenzied storylines that never stop being simple, basic goofs at their core…but that then somehow explode into hilarious parodies and epic-sized riffs on, and permutations of, clichéd 80s action/sci-fi/fantasy/horror movies, workplace sitcom television, and 80s techno/hip hop/rock anthem/funk music―all filtered through a modern slacker/gamer mentality that is able to elicit a simple catchall “whoa!” for situations as diverse as a big pile of leaves to rake up…and the sight of giant baby Guardians of Eternal Youth floating in space. And while Regular Show: Party Pack 3 doesn’t feature episodes as weirdly hilarious as Best‘s Fists of Justice or Cool Bikes or More Smarter, there are still a lot of laughs in this go-around.

 First up is Stick Hockey, written by Sean Szeles and Kat Morris, a funny if familiar example of Regular Show‘s obsession with parodying 80s action/martial arts flicks, with this Bloodsport Meets Over the Top smash-up. The parade of incongruous people who’ve bought and resold the “miniature man hockey dome” game is probably the episode’s best joke (the Mob, an anthropology professor, a guy in a packing crate, and underground sewer dwellers among others), while the visual of Benson’s protégé getting his bubble head neatly sliced off is pretty funny (the episode’s unsentimental ending is perfect, too―Benson sincerely, and rather pathetically, admits to wasting his life…and Rigby callously agrees: “Yeah, right.”). My Mom seems to veer dangerously towards sentimentality when Mordecai and Rigby discover that Muscle Man may actually be fairly cool, their original opinion of MM and High Five Ghost notwithstanding (“Those guys are turds!”). Just when you think the episode is going all Afterschool Special-y on you, Mordecai can’t take it anymore and informs MM he’s telling those “my mom” jokes all wrong, resulting in a funny set of humiliation pranks from the completely freaked out MM and his brother.

 Out of Commission, written by Calvin Wong and Toby Jones, is a funny sounding set-up―M & R’s beloved golf cart becomes sentient when it’s about to be scrapped―but it quickly peters out because the cart, once “alive,” isn’t very amusing or interesting (“I’ve only been alive 30 seconds and I already know life is cruel,” was the only joke that made me laugh). Sean Szeles’ High Score, however, is the kind of small-then-big episode Regular Show does so well. Humiliated because their paycheck comes in coins, M & R lose more face when two little skater punks wipe them out, first on the sidewalk and then on an arcade game, Broken Bonez. Determined to beat them, M & R soon master the game…only to face the wrath of GBF: Garrett Bobby Ferguson, a giant god-head who holds Bonez‘s Universe record. Cueing up the hilariously gawd-awful Hangin’ Tough from New Kids on the Block would have been enough to make High Score memorable, but the creation of Manson-like “Giant Beard Face” is a classic, sporting one of the greatest serial killer names of all time, a made-up wife (“You can’t tie GBF down!”), and a messianic desire to have his followers stroke his beard.

 Really Real Wrestling, again by Szeles, is a funny Pops outing (my favorite character on the show), with M & R desperate to go to the City Arena Center’s RRW’s Wrassle Frassle VII Live! event (“For tickets, call your mamma and cry about it because this event is sold out!”). When they accidentally hurt Pops, who reveals some serious wrestling skills from his “schooling” days, they all wind up at the event, with Pops inadvertently competing. Lizard wrestler Hissy Fit and multi-appendaged Four Armageddon should have had more gags, but the sight of Pops kicking ass is priceless (M & R’s slo-mo wrestling is pretty funny, too). But I Have a Receipt gives it to all those stupid, generic RPGs when M & R buy The Realm of Darthon…and it blows. Waging a war with the game store clerk who won’t refund their money, they soon find themselves in the game, battling the clerk…and it’s just as stupid as playing it on a board. Lots of clever gags (it’s all for seven measly bucks) and visuals here, including the Pixie Sorcerer knifed and the fireball of stuffed animals that “squeaks” when it hits the boys (slow down the DVD when Mordecai flips through the game’s instruction book, and check out the look-alike characters; it’s the episode’s funniest bit: Pixie Sorcerer, Goblin Warrior, She-Cop, Tank Tread Wizard, Vampire Archer, Goat-Legged Dude, Double Patch Pirate, Surfer with Gun…).

 0Skips Strikes, by Benton Connor and Calvin Wong, is a simple set-up―a bowling match between the boys and Death’s (voice talent of Julian Holloway) “Magical Elements” team (“undefeated for 1000s of years!”)―and it gets big laughs here. Pop screaming, “Yay, one ball, one ball!” while he wriggles on the alley like a worm is topped when Skips throws the final winning ball, as the soundtrack goes quiet and the orchestral music goes epic as the “Magical Elements” unleash apocalyptic destruction to stop the ball (too bad Skips’ secret isn’t all that funny…). Sugar Rush is a beautifully bizarre sci-fi outing from Benton Connor and Hilary Florido, where Pops’ insane consumption of over-glazed apple fritters sends him into an alternate, “higher sugar plane” of speed and time, where his rush makes everyone appear to be slower and slower. A tour de force for the animators (particularly that final nightmarish black and grey dimension right out of Washington Irving filtered through Munch), and a special treat for Pops fans who want to see him act like a speed freak.

1 2House Rules, by John Infantino and Andres Salaff, is another great example of Regular Show ability to go from the simplest set-up―Benson lays down a bunch of bogus rules the boys don’t like―to wonderfully surreal, outsized comedy. It may not read funny (“Rules are for fools! Save your stupid rulin’ for fools that need some schoolin’!”), but M & R’s raps are dependably terrible, while the No Rules Man who appears on roller skates with a cape to lead M & R to a cosmic dimension where no rules exists, is a dependably amusing Regular Show tempter/villain (“This guy don’t gotta do jack, amigo!” he snarls). Lots of laughs here, including the Punchie Parade, Kevin the Prank Phone Caller (he ends his calls with a screamed, “I hate you!”), and learning about the laws of gravity (they include a punch in the back of the head and your wallet stolen). Gut Model, from Sean Szeles and Kat Morris, is a sick little Muscle Man outing, when MM signs up with Mommy Monthly magazine as their all-purpose “gut model.” Good lines throughout (“There’s no disputing it…there’s nothing more beautiful than a pregnant woman’s stomach,”), and some funny bits (when a nervous MM starts to look like a deer in the headlights at his first photo shoot, the photographer cuts him off with a curt, “Shirt! Shirt!” while he impatiently snaps his fingers)…but that grease monster is pretty lame at the end (the Lesley Gore “It’s my party and I’ll fry if I want to!” reference is going to be lost on the kids…).

3 4Fuzzy Dice, by Andres Salaff & Madeline Queripel, is a pretty funny knock on Chuck E. Cheese’s, laid on a noir platform, as the gang tries to buy/win a pair of fuzzy dice at the Fun Fun Zone for Pops’ birthday. The image of Rigby as one of the typical snotty little kids that watch Regular Show is too funny to pass up, as is the sight of the animatronic figures trying to run away―very slowly―with their barely articulated legs (“Eat lead, sucka!” the Pam Grier-like robot cries, before the FBI orders, “Smoke ’em!” as they sink the robots’ getaway boat). And “Skeeze Ballz” is, unaccountably I might add, hilariously funny to me. Big Winner, from Benton Connor and Hilary Florido, is a straightforward Muscle Man outing, all predicated on the payoff of having MM freak out at the end, when he discovers M & R pranked him with a fake $1 million dollar lottery ticket (the action-packed finale is memorable, where MM battles a security force in “Lotto Plaza,” a la Conquest of the Planet of the Apes, kicking some soldier’s head clean off).

5 6Replaced, by J. G. Quintel, Mike Roth, and John Infantino, is an uncharacteristically thin effort, unfortunately, where M & R try to sabotage potential rivals, Chad and Jeremy, for their park jobs (again…who’s as old as I am on the writing staff). A paucity of gags and a finale that’s pretty sloppy and not at all explained: giant monsters come out of the lake (yawn). On the other hand, Free Cake, from Kat Morris & Paul Scarlata, is a winner: M & R, spastically jonesing for some cake, decide to throw unwilling Skips a surprise birthday party to get that cake…with cosmically disastrous results. Big, big laughs here, including M & R endlessly exchanging, “Free cake!” “No cake,” back and forth, Muscle Man’s in-the-dark enthusiasm for a surprise party (“Whoo! Skips is gonna be so surprised when he comes in and sees us totally naked!”), and of course, the Guardians of Youth, the surly cosmic babies who demand cake (the best joke is when they get it, they don’t eat it―they just smush it all over their faces).

7 8Party Pete, written by Benton Connor & Calvin Wong, certainly sounds promising―M & R keep party juicer Party Pete around with Benson’s stashed vintage cola―but it plays out fairly hum-drum, with few gags and an overly-familiar finale (Party Pete “transforms” into something otherworldly and finally blows up―seen it). Karaoke Video, by Sean Szeles and Dennis Messner, however, starts out slowly and builds into one of the more satisfying episodes here. After M & R blow it at the Carrey O’Key karaoke bar, knocking their friends inbetween off-key notes, they desperately try and get back a video tape of the performance before everyone sees it. Some agreeably weird moments throughout (I love the masochistic club owner having to get repeatedly slapped in the face to go on stage), and some good lines (“I can feel the excitement in my bladder!” Pops mewls) keeps it all humming, until we’re treated to the sound of unassuming, nonthreatening Pops, in a sickeningly hilarious whine, carefully enunciating Footloose, the single lamest teen rebellion song ever, while the club erupts into an all-out fight (Muscle Man gets his gravy bag clocked). That’s about as pure a moment of Regular Show humor as I can point to―mocking/congratulatory denunciation/celebration of useless pop culture reference points in the service of stupid/surreal comedy―and it wraps the disc up on a high note.

9 0The DVD:

The Video:
The anamorphically enhanced, 1.78:1 video transfer for Regular Show: Party Pack 3 looks digitally perfect: razor-sharp image, solid color values, no compression issues to speak of here.

The Audio:
The Dolby Digital English 2.0 stereo mix is heavy on the bass…which is perfect for all the funk jam/techno/rock ballad lines that are dropped throughout the episodes. English subtitles are available.

The Extras:
Some text biographies of some of the supporting characters are included here…including a few who don’t show up in these episodes….

Final Thoughts:
A mostly positive collection of episodes from the funniest toon on TV today (if you don’t count Archer, maybe…). I’m highly recommending Regular Show: Party Pack 3

Paul Mavis is an internationally published movie and television historian, a member of the Online Film Critics Society, and the author of The Espionage Filmography.

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In 10 Words or Less
Possibly the worst movie I’ve ever seen

Reviewer’s Bias*
Loves: Weird movies, Asian women
Likes: Odd foreign films, sexplotation films
Dislikes: Mahong
Hates: Bad acting, this movie

The Movie
To tell you how miserable my experience with this film was, you need to know that before experiencing this pointless Saw-wannabe, I had spent a lovely morning with my daughter watching Brave. Then, with the house to myself, I popped in this film, hoping for an explotative bit of trash that would distract my reptilian mind for a short while. To go from the heights of animated greatness to the depths of schlocky sex thrillers is a disorienting trip, but it’s even worse when your destination is not only bad, it’s also boring and rather dumb.

Part of the problem might be my fault. After all, I know basically nothing about mahjong. In my head, mahjong is that game on your computer where you match tiles until there are no free tiles left to play, and for some reason it’s wildly popular with older Asian women. Well, apparently mahjong has more in common with poker, or at least that’s what I learned from this film, as you can apparently bet on both, they involve a heirarchy of winning hands and both are deathly boring to watch being played. It’s been amazing to see, in my lifetime, the game of poker being played on ESPN alongside legitimate athletic competition, and heartwarming to see it fall from favor in recent years. Mahjong seems just as thrilling as poker, but somehow even more confusing. Yes, watching it with subtitled Japanese commentary couldn’t have helped my comprehension, but man, I just don’t get mahjong. Perhaps if I did, this movie would have been a bit better, but I very severely doubt it.

The story follows four woman abducted by McKato, a crazed game-show host assisted by his masked gimp sidekick and Ranran, a possibly mentally-ill woman wearing a maid outfit and a permanent smile. Together, they put these four women into a televised, high-pressure game of strip mahjong, where the winner gets $10 million, while the losers are killed. Along the way, secrets from the women’s lives are revealed…because. There’s some sort of Saw-like game of redemption that’s apparently intended, but if there’s a reason for this situation outside of getting these ladies naked, it’s the film’s true mystery.

Each time one of the girls is on the losing end of a hand, she has to lose a piece of clothing. Now, she could just take it off, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, McKato and his masked partner have a variety of bizarre methods for revealing captive flesh that are increasingly ridiculous, including a simple pencil used in a not-so-simple way. The whole things is presented like it’s one of those strange Japanese game-shows, complete with over-the-top on-screen graphics and anime-style bursts and freeze-frames, giving it the potential to be a really out-there parody (with Ranran set up as a breakout star of manic proportions.) But it is missing a few key elements, namely an engaging storyline, quality production and good performances.

Perhaps if you’re a mahjong fan, watching four women play a few rounds is entertaining, but this film managed to provide me with the unusual experience of being bored with a quartet of naked Japanese women. I can say, unequivocally, that this has never happened before and I truly thought it was impossible. It didn’t help that no one’s performance, with the possible exception of Ranran’s unique, yet one-note madness, was more skillful than Tommy Wiseau performing with Elizabeth Berkley in The Showgirls Room. Admittedly, I don’t understand Japanese, but that’s how bad these performances are, as they managed to cross oceans of language and comprehension to make me cringe at their unconvincing cries of pain and joy and awkward inner monologues. On top of that, the whole film, which takes place in approximately two and a half sets, looks like I shot it in my basement with the help of my daughter’s first-grade class serving as set designers.

The DVD
This one-disc release arrives in a standard keepcase. The disc has a static anamorphic widescreen main menu, with options to play the film, select scenes, adjust the set-up and check out some trailers. There are no audio options, though subtitles are available in English.

The Quality
This is a low-budget movie that’s mimicking TV and the anamorphic widescreen transfer looks it, with an image that’s a touch murky and soft, while the color is appropriate, though limited thanks to the minimal sets. It’s a very uneven look, as the mahjong table is brightly lit, sometimes washing out the players, while other scenes are dismally gray. Outside of the issues witht he source materials, the presentation seems fine, and is basically free of compression artifacts.

There’s not a lot to listen for in the Dolby Digital 2.0 track, as there’s not a lot to the film’s presentation, resulting in a mix that’s clean and clear, and center-balanced. Most people won’t be able to understand the dialogue anyway, but hey, it sounds good.

The Extras
The only extras are a handful of crazy Danger After Dark trailers.

The Bottom Line
Come on. You haven’t figured this out yet? This movie is historically bad, and there’s nothing about the OK quality, lack of extras or boring female Asian nudity that will redeem it. If it shows up on Netflix and you have NOTHING else to watch, sure, give it a spin to experience the insanity, but otherwise, steer clear.

Francis Rizzo III is a native Long Islander, where he works in academia. In his spare time, he enjoys watching hockey, writing and spending time with his wife, daughter and puppy.Check out 1106 – A Moment in Fictional Time or his convention blog called Conning Fellow

*The Reviewer’s Bias section is an attempt to help readers use the review to its best effect. By knowing where the reviewer’s biases lie on the film’s subject matter, one can read the review with the right mindset.