As others have observed, Paul Wendkos' "The Burglar" owes something to "The Asphalt Jungle" (the armature of the plot), "The Lady From Shanghai" (the Fun House sequence), and Alfred Hitchcock (the use of landmark locations in Philadelphia and Atlantic City).
It has many extraordinarily arty shots and edits, from between somebody's legs, sometimes a POV of someone getting punched in the face, close ups galore, strange camera angles, stark lighting, and all the rest of it.
And none of it hangs together. Three hoodlums and a dame burgle the mansion of a phony swami in Philadelphia and steal an emerald necklace. Before pulling off the heist they sit around in this shabby flat, sweating and arguing. After they have the fortune in their hands, they sit around the same flat, sweating and arguing. There's not a smile in a cartload, and little enthusiasm. Peter Capell, as Baylock, is the jewelry expert. He's been hijacked by his adrenal medullas. He sweats a bath tub. And he overacts to the point at which, had he gestured, shouted, and rolled his eyes more often, I'd have joined him in his irretrievable insanity.
The young Jayne Mansfield is attractive enough in a flashy way and is as generously proportioned as ever. Wendkos has shot her silhouette in profile once or twice and she's unmistakable. Her bosom precedes her by a quarter of a mile. But she can't act, and when she's being pursued by a murderer in a shadowy House of Horrors she minces hurriedly and her high heels clack a tattoo along the floor that sounds like some kind of monstrous Japanese getas gone berserk.
I appreciate the effort that went into the production, and some of the location shooting was agreeable, but overall it was dull and depressing.
It has many extraordinarily arty shots and edits, from between somebody's legs, sometimes a POV of someone getting punched in the face, close ups galore, strange camera angles, stark lighting, and all the rest of it.
And none of it hangs together. Three hoodlums and a dame burgle the mansion of a phony swami in Philadelphia and steal an emerald necklace. Before pulling off the heist they sit around in this shabby flat, sweating and arguing. After they have the fortune in their hands, they sit around the same flat, sweating and arguing. There's not a smile in a cartload, and little enthusiasm. Peter Capell, as Baylock, is the jewelry expert. He's been hijacked by his adrenal medullas. He sweats a bath tub. And he overacts to the point at which, had he gestured, shouted, and rolled his eyes more often, I'd have joined him in his irretrievable insanity.
The young Jayne Mansfield is attractive enough in a flashy way and is as generously proportioned as ever. Wendkos has shot her silhouette in profile once or twice and she's unmistakable. Her bosom precedes her by a quarter of a mile. But she can't act, and when she's being pursued by a murderer in a shadowy House of Horrors she minces hurriedly and her high heels clack a tattoo along the floor that sounds like some kind of monstrous Japanese getas gone berserk.
I appreciate the effort that went into the production, and some of the location shooting was agreeable, but overall it was dull and depressing.