Angel: "You weren't kidding me about that Florida deal? You aughta see me in one a those Riviera bathing suits with the middle missing, oh wow!"
When the estranged wife of an ex-cop turned juicer, shows up at his seedy flat with alarming news that their young son has been abducted in a criminal operation, dad must fight the delirium tremens, dig deep and resurrect well buried detective skills in hope he can catch some quick clues and the culprits. It's a well crafted mystery with a surprising twist late, adapted to the screen by Don Ettlinger from a Wade-Miller work, the prolific post-war pulp writing team (Touch-of-Evil). Zachary Scott made some memorable movies (Mildred-Pierce The-Southerner) but his Guilty guy should've garnered him some hardware, an early, convincing portrayal of police burnout. The ladies are complimentary, first in Faye Emerson as Georgia Thursday, wife who's lost nearly all belief in her troubled man, save one small memory on which her love still rests, knowing there's more to Max than hiccups and highballs; Kay Medford, best remembered as Lonesome Rhodes first wife is the gun moll who presses her luck and screen veteran Mary Boland (The-Women) in her final performance as Smitty, Thursday's benefactor and hint-dropper.
Watch when the drama dives into Dalio's Café. It's not the Stork Club, even as the "ice" glitters like the Hope diamond, but a joint where practically everyone is a celebrity (See; John 'horsehead' Marley & Jessie 'Maytag' White) and Mad Max takes a shot for the team. Also stars Sam Levene (The-Killers) as the top cop while Jed Prouty makes his own finale as the quack who gets a taste of his own medicine. To the ending, some will complain, but they've not yet learned this movie maxim: It is the light which makes the dark worth walking into. Besides, nobody wanted another Lindbergh tragedy (3/4).
When the estranged wife of an ex-cop turned juicer, shows up at his seedy flat with alarming news that their young son has been abducted in a criminal operation, dad must fight the delirium tremens, dig deep and resurrect well buried detective skills in hope he can catch some quick clues and the culprits. It's a well crafted mystery with a surprising twist late, adapted to the screen by Don Ettlinger from a Wade-Miller work, the prolific post-war pulp writing team (Touch-of-Evil). Zachary Scott made some memorable movies (Mildred-Pierce The-Southerner) but his Guilty guy should've garnered him some hardware, an early, convincing portrayal of police burnout. The ladies are complimentary, first in Faye Emerson as Georgia Thursday, wife who's lost nearly all belief in her troubled man, save one small memory on which her love still rests, knowing there's more to Max than hiccups and highballs; Kay Medford, best remembered as Lonesome Rhodes first wife is the gun moll who presses her luck and screen veteran Mary Boland (The-Women) in her final performance as Smitty, Thursday's benefactor and hint-dropper.
Watch when the drama dives into Dalio's Café. It's not the Stork Club, even as the "ice" glitters like the Hope diamond, but a joint where practically everyone is a celebrity (See; John 'horsehead' Marley & Jessie 'Maytag' White) and Mad Max takes a shot for the team. Also stars Sam Levene (The-Killers) as the top cop while Jed Prouty makes his own finale as the quack who gets a taste of his own medicine. To the ending, some will complain, but they've not yet learned this movie maxim: It is the light which makes the dark worth walking into. Besides, nobody wanted another Lindbergh tragedy (3/4).