"My Blood Runs Cold" (1965) on Warner Archive Instant

"That's right, Julien. We're all descended from a bastard."

     William Conrad made the same amount of films in one year as Terrence Malick did in twenty-five. As mentioned in our review of "Two On A Guillotine", the entirety of Conrad's cinematic directorial career was contained within the year of 1965. Today, we look at his second picture, the love through the ages psychological suspense story, "My Blood Runs Cold"

     We open with a Byron quote read by an uncredited narrator (does anybody know if it's Conrad doing the voice-over?) A woman stands before her home above the sea, a gauzy optical effect overlaying the entire pre-credit sequence. A male voice calls out the name "Barbara" in a ghostly bellow. Roll credits.

     Afterwards, we join Julie (Joey Heatherton) and Harry (Nicolas Coster) on a California highway en route to a marina that is being dedicated to her father, Julian Merriday (Barry Sullivan). Julie speeds erratically and almost hits motorcyclist Ben Gunther (Troy Donahue). Ben ends up on the side of the road, and Julie's car careens into the Pacific ocean. The shot of her T-Bird in the surf is a memorable one and embodies the mid 20th century as well as any image I've seen.

     Relatively unharmed by the accident, Ben repeatedly refers to Julie as "Barbara". In a bit of odd, ham handed plotting, Julie and Harry bring Ben along to the marina after taking him to the hospital. Ben doesn't seem to mind, though, quite the contrary. After dinner at the Merriday's, he makes his affection for Julie known to Harry; "I've known her a long time...a lot longer than you have."

     Julie inquires of her aunt Sarah (Jeanette Nolan) if there was ever a member of the family named Barbara, and she informs her it was the name of her great grandmother. Later, Ben arrives at "Spindrift", the family estate Julie has been restoring and stares at her like a creep for a while before making his presence known. He gives her a locket with her image in it, telling her it was given to him a hundred year's ago by Barbara Merriday. At this point the script demonstrates it's total lack of confidence in the audience's intellect and spells everything out with this bit of dialogue: "...you're trying to tell me I'm the reincarnation of the woman in this locket...you're the reincarnation of someone Barbara Merriday knew..." The locket turns out to be genuine after it is authenticated by none other than Floyd the Barber himself (the appearance of Howard McNear is hands down the most exciting moment of the film).

     Heatherton's heavy lidded screen presence is all ice blond upper class entitled ennui. Her and Donahue have the energy together of a Quaalude party; their's is a lethargic love. She doesn't act in the picture so much as wander through it in a Valium haze.

     Conrad does manage to conjure some fine imagery out of a scene where Julie and Ben visit the undersea cave where their past selves supposedly made love. The visuals of them-especially Heatherton- bathed in sea mist and reflected light have a shimmering luminous beauty.

     The caretaker of "Spindrift" is found murdered and Ben becomes the chief suspect of the police investigation. He and Julie elope together, heading out to sea in bad weather. I was hoping a violent thunderstorm at sea would defibrillate a pulse into this picture's cinematic heart, but it remains a flatliner. Instead, we get a brief moment of the boat enduring the storm and a really long scene of Julien and Sarah discussing Julie's affair's and working through their familial angst. This is indicative of how the picture consistently fails to exploit it's dramatic elements, providing nothing to engage the audience for any length of time.

     A late third act revelation regarding Ben's dubious sanity adds some urgency to the proceedings. Conrad does some good work down the stretch; there's a visually remarkable sequence of Ben and Julie journeying through a dreamy coastal fog, and a climatic action sequence at a factory that almost commits to a heartbreakingly memorable ending (akin to Conrad's two other film's) before pulling back at the last second. But, there's nothing so notable as to make the arduous journey through the rest of the picture worth it.

     "My Blood Runs Cold" is a languorously paced would be thriller whose character's are as unengaged with the narrative as the audience. It could easily stand to lose fifteen minutes from it's running time. George Duning's score is extremely enjoyable, but it's easy listening nature only adds to the overall flat affect. Lastly, Donahue's performance towards the end isn't terrible at all, but when it comes to 50's and 60's pretty boy's with a dark psyche, I'll take Robert Wagner in "A Kiss Before Dying" any day.  

   

   

"Two on a Guillotine" (1965) on Warner Archive Instant

"It's as though the whole house were breathing."

     William Conrad had an incredibly interesting career, and more personally speaking, he's the reason I subscribe to Warner Archive Instant. The imposing actor who made his debut in Robert Siodmak's definitive noir "The Killer's", was also the whimsical narrator of "Rocky and Bullwinkle". His voice wallpapered my youth and is one I'm more familiar with than many of my family's own. In addition to this, he was a TV director, his credit's behind the camera are numerous and include the unique final season of "77 Sunset Strip" which saw a shift in style for the popular crime drama. Despite his extensive work for the small screen, the entirety of Conrad's directing for the cinema is contained in one year and three film's. It was in seeking out one of these work's, "Brainstorm", that I entered the world of Warner Archive. A well regarded late entry into the film-noir cycle, it was a film I felt the need to track down when I was going through a period of noir immersion. Warner Archive Instant, at the time, had it offered as a streaming title, and having just bought a Roku, I subscribed to the service. William Conrad was my gateway drug to WAI (and vice-versa). Today, we look at one of those other two film's from that fruitful year of 1965, "Two on a Guillotine".

     A vulture perches. A woman is bound. She is stabbed. Twice. She screams in agony. The audience cheers. The magician John Harley Duquesne (Cesar Romero) has wowed them again. After Duquesne and his assistant/ wife (Connie Stevens) take their bow's, Conrad's camera glides through the backstage activity of the very real humanity behind the Grand Guignol performance. Duquesne demonstrates the apparatus of his newest trick, a guillotine for a "Marie Antoinette" routine. The guillotine proves faulty, chopping the head from a doll.

     We jump forward in time to the occasion of Duquesne's funeral (you can spot an uncredited Richard Kiel at graveside). The great magician is buried in a shackled, windowed coffin per his last request; he claimed his final act would be to return from the grave. Cassandra (also played by Connie Stevens), his daughter, leaves the ceremony in disgust as she is hounded by reporter's. We learn that Duquesne retired from performing twenty years prior, when his wife walked out on the family and disappeared. An aunt in Wisconsin raised Cassie, and she never really knew her parent's.

     The reading of the will takes place in true show biz style at The Hollywood Bowl. The widescreen lens takes in the entirety of the locale, slowly pushing in on the infinitesimal figures seated on the stage. It is revealed that all $300,000 of Duquesne's estate will belong to Connie if she is able to spend seven nights at his house, where he hopes his soul shall make a return.

     It's a classic old dark house set-up and it's in classic fashion that Cassie is greeted. After pushing a button, a "House on Haunted Hill" style skeleton descends through the room on a wire. Aiding her on the exploration of the estate is wisecracking Val Henderson (Dean Jones), a reporter posing as a real estate agent. Jones is intensely likeable in a  Jimmy Stewart kind of way.

      The first night in the house, disturbing sounds of a woman crying are heard, followed by a phone call with heavy breathing. Val eventually discovers a tape player is the source of the respiratory audio. It seems Duquesne's trick's continue on even after he lay in the grave.

   

     Val charms his way into Cassie's life and they go to an amusement park, followed by dinner at a rockin' go-go joint with a kick ass band. They kiss in a  Godardian moment of self aware cinema; the R&B that has filled the soundtrack is jarringly replaced by the lush, romantic Max Steiner score at the very instant they lock lip's. Conrad cuts forward in time to the two being intimate on the couch and Cassie grabs a "Stop/Go" pillow, mirroring the "go,go,go.." lyric's of the song heard moment's ago at the club. For a haunted house movie by a TV director, this picture is cinematically sophisticated and whip-smart.

     This interlude is likewise interrupted by a jolting auditory instance- the screaming of Dolly (Virginia Gregg), Duquesne's assistant, who wanders the house and claims he appeared to her. Dolly is consumed with self loathing for allowing Duquesne to die alone. She paints a heart-rending portrait of a man haunted and driven from reality by grief over his lost wife. There's an emotional complexity to the scene's between Cassie and Dolly. Cassie develops guilt over not speaking to her father when Dolly tells her he "worshipped her". Val doesn't trust Dolly, believing her to be manipulating Cassie in order to get at the $300,000, and drives her from the house.

     Cassie comes to know her parent's through her environment and the object's therein- her father's prop's, her mother's room. There's a powerful scene of her listening to the voice of her lost mother singing on tape as she wanders the music room in the way her father must have done countless times. She is the estranged child learning of her parent's and echoing them at the same time. Conrad's intelligent Panavision compositions add to the impact.

     A mannequin head bearing her likeness frightens Cassie when it tumbles from a box. It is not her image though, but that of her mother. Oddly this is the second film we've reviewed in the past month with a mistaken identity mannequin head scare scene. "Crescendo" had a similar moment and the two share an interest in body doubling.

     The interactions between Cassie and Val have an easy humor to them, but beyond that, there's a strange, idiosyncratic tone to many part's of the picture. There's Big Mike (Billy Curtis, who hails from one town over from me), the midget bartender, a sign for "7 Dwarf's Bourbon" framed behind his head. And then there's the rabbit. Duquesne's white rabbit makes numerous appearances, each time accompanied by a goofy, ocarina sounding melody. It's usually during scene's of seriousness and intensity, and the bunny with it's jaunty tune is a mood killer and completely tonally dissonant. Conrad must have loved the damn thing though, since he gives it the last scene in the picture.

     Cassie eventually finds out Val is a reporter, and after they get in an argument, she must finally spend the night in the house alone. We get a dream sequence where the ever present silly rabbit again makes an appearance. Waking up, Cassie discovers the mysterious door that has been locked shut this entire time is now open...

     "Two on a Guillotine" is many things- a romance, a mystery, a goofy comedy, an exploration of filial guilt and love, but in the the end, it is most definitely a horror film. The horror of an almost realized hope of parental reconnection shattered into a delusionally incestuous nightmare appointment with the guillotine. It's about about discovering the worst truth possible in the heart of your most joyous moment. This picture promises spook house thrills, but ends up delivering horror's much more disturbing and less easily shaken off.