Review #1,249: 'Terror in a Texas Town' (1958)

While the eye-catching poster promises "Iron Hooked Fury!" and pitting a harpoon against a six-gun, the curiously forgotten B-movie western Terror in a Texas Town, directed by Joseph H. Lewis, is a positively downbeat little movie. Starting with a handsome, square-jawed hero walking into battle with a clad-in-black gunslinger, it appears at first glance that we are on familiar ground. But the film then flashes back, and all the western tropes we had been expecting are subtly subverted, similar in many ways to Nicholas Ray's groundbreaking masterpiece Johnny Guitar four years previous. The screenwriter is credited as Ben Perry - a name you'll likely be unfamiliar with. Yet this was in fact a front for Dalton Trumbo, the great Oscar-winning writer who was then under scrutiny from Senator McCarthy and blacklisted from Hollywood. With this knowledge, the oddness of Terror in a Texas Town suddenly makes sense.

In the - you guessed it - small Texas town of Prairie City, the hard-working farmers earning little from their land are struggling to fight off the advances of the unscrupulous land baron McNeil (Sebastian Cabot), who is using his wealth and influence to buy up the whole area for reasons not immediately clear. Some of the townsfolk are playing hard-ball, refusing to give their homes and livelihood to a man they never see. So McNeil brings in tough-as-nails gunslinger Johnny Crale (an outstanding Nedrick Young), a broken career-criminal who is happy to caress his pistol whenever a deal doesn't go his way. He murders Swede Sven Hansen (Ted Stanhope) when he refuses to sign a contract. A day later, his sailor son George (Sterling Hayden) arrives to greet the father he hasn't seen in over a decade, only the learn of his murder and that the land left to him is now the property of a greedy businessman.

It quickly becomes clear that the hero-versus-villain showdown the opening scene promised us will be nothing like we expected. The dashing American hero is in fact an immigrant without the skills of a quick-draw or the wits to take on McNeil on his own, and the black leather-donning Crale may just be in the midst of developing a conscience after years of killing and the loss of his gun hand. What makes Terror in a Texas Town so interesting is the way it merely hints at the two central characters' personalities and past, leaving these could-be archetypes as intriguing enigmas. Trumbo makes a point of highlighting the ranchers' ignorance of McNeil's Machiavellian role in the events, choosing instead to focus their hatred on the muscle. It isn't difficult to imagine that Trumbo's exile and unforgivable treatment at the hands of his own country didn't influence this apparently off-the-conveyor-belt B-picture. It has been unfairly forgotten by the decades, but Terror in a Texas Town is ripe for re-discovery as one of the strangest and most compelling westerns American has ever produced.


Directed by: Joseph H. Lewis
Starring: Sterling Hayden, Nedrick Young, Sebastian Cabot, Carol Kelly, Eugene Mazzola
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #975: 'Dunkirk' (1958)

Surprisingly, precious few films exist depicting the events of Operation Dynamo during World War II. The emergency evacuation of thousands of British, French and Belgian soldiers from the beaches of Dunkirk while the Nazis closed in around them was described as a "colossal military blunder" by Winston Churchill and could have ended the war there and then. However, the assistance of hundreds of civilians who sailed from the south of England in a small armada of speedboats, yachts and fishing boats to rescue their battered allies provided a united front in what was then dubbed the 'Phoney War' and an astonishing tale of bravery to boot.

Leslie Norman's Dunkirk does not shy away from the buffoonery of high command which led to Allied troops being pushed further and further back until they were surrounded from every angle, but also explores themes of heroism in the face of invasion. Telling two parallel stories, we witness the events leading up to Dunkirk from the front-line, where inexperienced corporal 'Tubby' Binns (John Mills) finds himself in suddenly in charge after the death of his superior and separated from the bulk of his company in hostile territory. From the Home Front, cynical journalist Charles Foreman (Bernard Lee) is attempting to snap his fellow countrymen out of their laid-back state to pay attention to a war that is creeping on their doorstep.

Charles is met by people who agree with his concerns, but also those who are blissfully unaware of his country's dyer situation. In particular, local businessman Holden (Richard Attenborough) is making himself a tidy profit from the Phoney War and laps up the propaganda played over the radio. Attenborough's coward is the film's most intriguing plot-line and certainly the most complex character on show. Although he has relatively little screen-time compared to Mills and Lee, its Holden's reaction to the horror on the beach which subsequently changes his entire outlook that lingers in the mind once the film is over.

Mills' loveable Tubby looks like the more conventional hero, wise-cracking and back-slapping his men, but as the situation worsens his ability to command is questioned as leaves one of his men to die and fails to inspire his troops to move when told. Mills gets the bulk of the screen-time, and while his journey to the beaches provide some technically impressive set-pieces, there's an unevenness to the juxtaposition of the intertwining tales when they really deserve equal billing. Tubby's escapades means that it takes a long time to get the evacuation, but when it does, the sights of hundreds of soldiers wading out into the ocean in the hope of rescue and the horror exploding around them still holds up today. It's a moving and beautifully filmed final half hour that is worth the price of admission alone.


Directed by: Leslie Norman
Starring: John Mills, Bernard Lee, Richard Attenborough, Robert Urquhart
Country: UK

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #972: 'Le Beau Serge' (1958)

Questionably considered the first entry in the Nouvelle Vague, or French New Wave, movement, Claude Chabrol's debut feature serves more as a precursor to the highly influential approach to film-making. While Francois Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard broke new ground and had surprising international success with The 400 Blows (1959) and A Bout de Souffle (1960) respectively, Le Beau Serge still retains a classical feel. Still, Chabrol's self-financing, on-location shooting, unorthodox editing and the use of non-professional actors proved to be highly influential to the Cahiers du Cinema crew and the first of its kind.

After more than a decade away from his home town, city boy Francois (Jean-Claude Brialy) returns to Sardent for the winter to rest and recover from a recent bout of life-threatening illness. Upon arrival, he notices that the place has barely changed but is oddly deserted, with only a handful of his old friends and acquaintances remaining. One who has remained is Serge (Gerard Blain), Francois' former best friend. The man once dubbed 'handsome Serge' has now been reduced to a bitter alcoholic, trapped in an unhappy marriage with Yvonne (Michele Meritz) who he blames for the loss of his child. Finding himself now at odds with small-town life, Francois still feels compelled to help his old friend.

Despite the odd flash of New Wave characteristics, Le Beau Serge shares more in common with the Neo-Realist movement in post-World War II Italy and the 'angry young man' films that would pepper Hollywood throughout the 50's. Chabrol, who grew up in Sardent, captures the crumbling town with both nostalgia and sadness. While obviously fond and whimsical of such a life, Francois' character feels oddly isolated in the town he once called home, unable to understand how accepting its inhabitants are of their inconsequential existence. The narrative drags in places, but this is both a funny and powerful film, especially if you hail from similar small-town beginnings. Chabrol would build his career on thrillers, but his debut shares a sensitive and socially insightful side rarely seen from the director.

Directed by: Claude Chabrol

Starring: Gérard Blain, Jean-Claude Brialy, Michèle Méritz, Bernadette Lafont

Country: France

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #264: 'Dracula' (1958)

We all know the story of Count Dracula by now - as well as Mary Shelley's original novel, he has been immortalised in countless film adaptations that both stay close to the source material, and put fresh spins on the story and legend. Hammer's 1958 adaptation makes several changes to the story, but if this was due to budget limitations or simple artistic expression I do not know. Jonathan Harker (John Van Eyssen) arrives at Dracula's (Christopher Lee) castle as a newly employed librarian. He soon meets Dracula's captive who begs Harker to set her free and help her. Rather than Harker being a real estate agent sent to Transylvania to broker a deal with the Count, here Harker is a vampire hunter sent to bring Dracula to his doom.

The rest I'm sure you know, but in this version Harker becomes a vampire briefly only to be staked by his friend Van Helsing (Peter Cushing). Christopher Lee was still relatively early in his career when he took up this role, although he had previously starred at Frankenstein's monster in Hammer's The Curse of Frankenstein (1957). He had starred in many films before this, albeit in smaller and uncredited roles, yet here he looks likes he's been doing it for years. Apart from his comically camp trot down the stairs in his dramatic entrance scene, Lee makes a massive impact in what is a relatively limited role. He has very few lines, and very few scenes. But he leaves a lasting impression that compliments the sheer colossal power of his presence.

This is by no means a great film. But Hammer never strived for greatness. Their films were mainly about money-making on a small budget. Dracula ends at around the 80 minute mark, yet it feels about 10 minutes long. It moves at lightning pace, jumping from scene to scene with breathless pace that seems suck out all atmosphere and genuine chills. But what it lacks in atmosphere, it makes up for in sheer enjoyment. This never comes close to the gothic brilliance of Tod Browning's 1931 adaptation, or the lavish beauty of Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 effort, but this has a British thespian quality and that Hammer touch that no other production company seem to be able to replicate. Far from the definitive version, but certainly the most fun.


Directed by: Terence Fisher
Starring: Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Michael Gough, Melissa Stribling
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #247: 'Equinox Flower' (1958)

Businessman Wataru (Shin Saburi) is continually approached by his friends and co-workers for advice and help, especially when it concerns potential marriages for their daughters. He is approached by Mikami (Ozu regular Chisu Ryu) who is concerned that his daughter has gone off with a man from a lesser family with a low-paid job. He agrees to meet her and try to talk some sense into her. One day at work, he is approached by a man named Maniguchi (Keiji Sada) who asks for his daughter's hand in marriage. Wataru is horrified that his daughter Setsuko (Ineko Arima) has been seeing this man without his knowledge, and insists that marrying him is not the right decision.

Japanese master Ozu is again on familiar ground with this gentle drama. Again, he explores themes of family, and change in a post-war Japanese society. Wataru is not a traditionalist by nature - he is generally quite open-minded, but only when it comes to his friend's families. When he has tea with one of Setsuko's friends, she explains how her mother is obsessed with finding her a match with a man with a decent job and background. Wataru is agreed that her mother is stuck in her ways. It becomes clear that Wataru is simply a father who cannot let go of his daughter. It's a sentiment that anyone, even those without children, can relate to.

Ozu does make a point of showing the increasing differences in attitudes between the generations. The parents are children of war. Wataru and his wife Kiyoko (Kinuyo Tanaka) discuss memories of being in the bomb shelters. Ozu doesn't want us to see the elders as narrow-minded and old-fashioned, but instead as people who grew up with danger and death all around them, and clearly hold protection and security in high regard, and for good reason. However, Ozu does show the women of Equinox Flower as the stronger sex, and the biggest advocates for change. Kiyoko tries to change Wataru's mind, but realises that this is a decision he will make on his own.

The film is full of Ozu's usual traits, including the usual gorgeous cinematography - and this is his first to be shot in colour. His camera is ever-still, watching from low angles, usually through doorways. He is offering his audience a window into these people's lives, and allows them to give their naturalistic courtesies as they would if no-one was watching. It is a delight watching a true master at work, and it's amazing how he finds fresh and fascinating ways to explore similar themes. I've never seen any of his films that have been anything less than brilliant, and I'm still to see his widely celebrated Tokyo Story (1953). An absolute delight.


Directed by: Yasujirô Ozu
Starring: Shin Saburi, Kinuyo Tanaka, Ineko Arima, Yoshiko Kuga, Chishû Ryû
Country: Japan

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #193: 'Ice Cold in Alex' (1958)

Battle-weary alcoholic Captain Anson (John Mills) sets out across the Libyan desert after his British base is evacuated. Joining him is Tom Pugh (Harry Andrews), Anson's square-jawed and loyal friend, and two nurses Diana (Sylvia Syms) and Denise (Diane Clare). Joining them early on the road is Afrikaan-speaking Captain van der Poel (Anthony Quayle), a colossal man who seems rather attached to his bag who he claims contains bottles of gin. In their way are mine fields, thirst, swampy salt mines, the desert heat, and those bloody Nazis. Anson promises to quit drinking until he gets to Alexandria, Egypt, where awaiting him is an ice cold lager.

Possibly the best thing about this very good film is the real feel of the desert. Many of the old films glam it up a bit, but Ice Cold In Alex revels in the sweat, dust and dirt of the perilous desert. You can literally taste the dryness of their lips and the scorching heat on their back, and really feel their struggle. Also refreshing is the lack of token gunfights and action scenes that plagued many of the old war films. It is more concerned with the individual mental and physical struggle of the characters, and draws up tension in the small moments, such as Anson biting his lip and breathing hard as he slowly makes his way across the mine field. Another film that came to mind during these tense scenes is Henri-Georges Clouzot's The Wages Of Fear (1953).

I never realised just quite how terrific an actor John Mills was until I saw this. Even though his male co-stars tower over the little man, he is a raging mountain of frustration, anger and fierce dedication. It is a sublime performance. His co-stars are impressive too, with Quayle another standout as a man who may not be quite who he claims to be. Combining this with the impressive cinematography and intelligent script, it makes for an exciting and absorbing war film that manages to be quintessentially British yet as gritty a war film that I've seen from this era.


Directed by: J. Lee Thompson
Starring: John Mills, Sylvia Syms, Anthony Quayle, Harry Andrews
Country: UK

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie