Short stories and essays by Shaun Costello, as well as excerpts from manuscripts in progress.

Posts tagged “Cloris Leachman



By Shaun Costello


The Honeymooners - As good as it gets

The Honeymooners – As good as it gets

Early television existed on a steady diet of rehashed and recycled material, mostly Westerns that had been exhibited theatrically in the 1930’s and 1940’s. In 1952 Gene Autry became one of the richest men in America when he purchased the old Monogram Studios, and its inventory of 750 “B” Westerns, renaming it Melody Ranch Studios. Autry saw the future, and recognized the vacuum of programming on early television as a gold mine for any enterprising soul with readily available entertainment to sell.

The Singing Cowboy bought the ranch.

The Singing Cowboy bought the ranch.

Those 750 “B” Westerns, newly owned by Autry, filled that programming vacuum with non-stop cowboy culture. A stop-gap measure to be sure, but an enormously profitable endeavor for the Singing Cowboy, until shows specifically produced for television could be developed. And Melody Ranch Studios became a major production facility for Western themed TV shows like; The Lone Ranger, Wyatt Earp, Gunsmoke, Hopalong Cassidy, Rin Tin Tin, The Cisco Kid and many others.

Most of the earliest shows specifically produced for television, that filled the gaps between Autry’s “B” Westerns, had been successful radio programs. I can remember listening regularly to radio shows like Gunsmoke, Jack Benny, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and The Lone Ranger; all of which became newly produced as television programs. America was hungry for television, and before long, newly produced entertainment began to outnumber Autry’s “B” Westerns.

The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis

The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis

The Fifties would give birth to a new phenomenon – television’s Situation Comedies. Some, like The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and Jack Benny had been radio hits; but television production was now in high gear, churning out original sitcoms like You’ll Never Get Rich, with Phil Silvers as the shameless Sergeant Bilko, Father Knows Best, Leave it to Beaver, Donna Reed, and The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, which introduced Warren Beatty and Tuesday Weld. The variety shows like Ed Sullivan, Sid Caesar’s Your Show of Shows, Perry Como, and Red Skelton ruled the airwaves, but the Sitcom was knocking on America’s door with growing success, and would quickly become a staple of the country’s entertainment culture.

I recently Googled the top ten sitcoms and was horrified to find nothing, other than Seinfeld, on any list that was produced before this current millennium. List after list of bubble gum entertainment, all millennial fodder. Sorry kids, but shows like Friends, or How I Met Your Mother hardly qualify to be on an all-time top ten list. I decided right then and there, that the Top Ten Sitcoms of all Time list was a wrong that needed righting, and my Blog seemed like the appropriate venue for this adventure. Many years ago, Groucho Marks was interviewed on Dick Cavett’s late night talk show. Cavett asked him if he watched television. Groucho responded, “Not really. Well, I do watch Bunker. Oh, and the schwartzes.” (Sanford and Son) Both of Groucho’s programs made my list. Whittling all the Sitcoms ever produced down to ten has been difficult. Quality shows like You’ll Never Get Rich, Cheers, Happy Days, and Welcome Back Kotter didn’t make the cut, much as I loved them. Top Ten lists are subjective, so yours will probably vary from mine, but these ten stalwart shows, each born of great writing, and unique performers, all of which sociologically impacted the era in which they aired, in this viewer’s opinion, are the All-Time Champs.

In alphabetical order:


(1971 to 1979)

Archie Bunker was America's favorite bigot.

Archie Bunker was America’s favorite bigot.

Created, developed and produced by the redoubtable team of Norman Lear and Bud Yorkin, whose names will appear again on this list, seldom has a television character so befuddled and delighted the American audience as Archie Bunker. Bigoted beyond all reason, Archie becomes the perfect tool though which Lear and Yorkin tackle the social issues facing America in the Seventies: racism, homosexuality, women’s liberation, rape, religion, miscarriage, abortion, breast cancer, Vietnam, menopause, and impotence – all seen through the dependably debauched eyes of Archie Bunker. The series became arguably one of television’s most influential comedic programs, as it injected the sitcom format with more realistic and topical conflicts. Carroll O’Connor’s portrayal of Archie yielded what is arguably television’s most controversial and unforgettable character. O’Connor is nimbly supported by the hilarious Jean Stapleton, Rob Reiner and Sally Struthers. In 2013, the Writer’s Guild ranked All in the Family the fourth best written TV series ever, and TV Guide ranked it as the fourth greatest show of all time. In September of 1979, a new show, Archie Bunker’s Place, picked up where All in the Family had ended. It ran four additional years, ending in 1983.

“Those were the days.”





(1961 to 1966)

Van Dyke's nimble sight gags still work.

Van Dyke’s nimble sight gags still work.

The Dick Van Dyke Show premiered on October 5, 1961, introducing to the television audience two relatively unknown performers who would become multi-media mega stars – Dick Van Dyke and Mary Tyler Moore. The show was developed by Carl Reiner and produced by Reiner along with Bill Persky and Sam Denoff. Loosely based on Reiner’s life as a television writer, the show follows the adventures of TV writer Rob Petrie (Van Dyke) who is the head writer for the fictional Alan Brady Show. Brady is played by Reiner as an arrogant, egocentric, and of course insecure TV star. A solid supporting cast including Morey Amsterdam, Rose Marie, and Richard Deacon as Reiner’s snobbish, bullying brother in law. An equally solid writing team including Reiner, Persky and Denoff; as well as Garry Marshall, Jerry Belson and Carl Kleinschmitt. Among the show’s directors were Sheldon Leonard, John Rich and Jerry Paris. The series won 15 Emmy Awards. In 1997 the episodes “Coast-to-Coast Big Mouths” and “It May Look Like a Walnut” were ranked at 8 and 15 respectively on TV Guide’s 100 Greatest Episodes of All Time. In 2002 the series was ranked 13 on TV Guide’s 50 Greatest TV Shows of All Time. A bit dated now, but Van Dyke’s nimble sight gags are still tops, and the dialogue’s still juicy.

The trip that kept on giving.

The trip that kept on giving.





(1955 to 1956)

Only 39 episodes were recorded.

Only 39 episodes were recorded.

Many of you will be stunned by the years listed above. I certainly was. How can something like The Honeymooners, a corner stone of American entertainment culture have only aired for a year? It debuted as a half hour series on October 1, 1955 and aired its final episode on September 22, 1956. There are only 39 episodes, now referred to as The Classic 39. The show’s history is complicated. Jackie Gleason was introduced to early television audiences on the DuMont Television Network’s Cavalcade of Stars (1949 to 1952). Gleason, who had made his mark on the first television incarnation of The Life of Riley sitcom, stepped into Cavalcade on July 15, 1950, and became an immediate sensation. He offered several skits including – The Loudmouth, Joe the Bartended, Reginald Van Gleason III, The Poor Soul, and The Honeymooners, which co-starred Art Carney, Audrey Meadows, and Joyce Randolph. In 1952, CBS president William S. Paley offered Gleason a considerably higher salary. The series was retitled The Jackie Gleason Show and premiered on CBS Television on September 20, 1952. The show had a five year run, making its finale in 1957. An immediate hit for the network, Gleason’s format was basically of the Variety genre, offering guest performers, a musical interlude with the weekly appearance of The June Taylor Dancers, and Gleason’s standard skits, the most popular of which was The Honeymooners, a comedy sketch about a Brooklyn bus driver Ralph Kramden (Gleason), his pal Ed Norton (Art Carney), and their wives, played by Audrey Meadows and Joyce Randolph. This sketch became so enormously popular that Paley’s CBS network would lengthen it to a half hour, and offer it as a weekly sitcom. Although the new show was initially a ratings success, becoming the number two show in the country during its first season, it faced stiff competition at the beginning of season two from The Perry Como Show, dropping to number nineteen, and Paley decided to pull the plug. 39 episodes – that’s all that were produced, yet the show and its colorful characters have become a part of American entertainment folk lore. Everyone’s got a favorite episode. Mine is Chef of the Future. What’s yours?


My favorite episode.

My favorite episode.




(1951 to 1957)

The first show to be owned by its creators.

The first show to be owned by its creators.

I Love Lucy was the first scripted television program to be shot on 35MM film (in black and white) before a studio audience. The series won five Emmy Awards, and received numerous nominations in many categories. Although distributed by CBS, I love Lucy was the first television program to be owned by its creators, It was a DESILU production, shot at DESILU STUDIOS in Los Angeles, and owned by Lucille Ball, Desi Arnaz and their partners. I Love Lucy was the most watched show in America for four of its six seasons, and was the first to end its run at the top of the Nielsen ratings. The show is still syndicated in dozens of languages, and remains popular with an American audience of 40 million each year.

The Cast:

Lucille Ball as Lucille Esmeralda “Lucy” McGillicuddy Ricardo

Desi Arnaz as Enrique Alberto Fernando y de Acha “Ricky” Ricardo III

Vivian Vance as Ethel Mae Potter Mertz

William Frawley as Frederick “Fred” Hobart Mertz

Richard Keith as Enrique Alberto Ricardo VI (Ricky Jr.)

Twins Mike Mayer and Joe Mayer played Little Ricky as a toddler

Originally set in an apartment building in New York City, I Love Lucy follows the adventures of Lucy Ricardo (Ball) her singer/band leader husband Ricky (Arnaz), along with their best friends and landlords Fred and Ethel Mertz (Frawley and Vance).

Lucille Ball’s real life pregnancy was scripted into the show. During the second season, Lucy and Ricky give birth to a son named Ricky Ricardo Jr, (Little Ricky) whose birth was timed to coincide with Ball’s real-life delivery of her son Desi Arnaz Jr. The American television audience watched their favorite television star give birth to what would become their favorite baby on their favorite show: and the Nielsen ratings went off the charts.

After the final episode in 1957, a modified version continued for three more seasons with 13 one hour specials, running from 1957 to 1960. It was first called The Lucille Ball-Desi Arnaz Show, and later in re-runs as The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour. In 2012, the original I Love Lucy show was voted “Best TV Show of All Time” in a survey conducted by ABC News and People Magazine.



The “Chocolate” scene.




(1970 to 1977)

Groundbreaking material.

Groundbreaking material.

In the late Sixties Mary Tyler Moore was a hot commodity. Her six season run as Laura on The Dick Van Dyke Show endeared her to America’s television audience, not to mention Hollywood, and the offers were plentiful. When she was offered her own show, which had been developed by James Brooks and Allan Burns, she took full advantage of her celebrity, taking a feather from Lucille Ball’s cap – why be a passenger on your own journey, when you can Captain the ship yourself. The show, originally entitled Mary Tyler Moore, would become the first production of MTM Enterprises, and would parody MGM’s Leo the lion, by featuring a cameo of a kitten meowing under the company name. Mary Tyler Moore would become a sociological breakthrough for television, with the first never-married, independent career woman as the central character. Mary Richards is a thirty-something single woman who settles in Minneapolis after breaking up with her boyfriend. She lands a job as Associate Producer of the evening news show on WJM-TV. The show’s characters consist of Mary’s co-workers and neighbors. Her Boss Lou Grant (Ed Asner), egocentric and inept anchorman Ted Baxter (Ted Knight), “Happy Home Maker” Sue Ann Nivens (Betty White), her upstairs neighbor Rhoda Morgenstern (Valerie Harper), and another neighbor Phyllis Lindstrom (Cloris Leachman). The characters were so strong that three became spin-off shows. Ed Asner starred in Lou Grant (1977 to 1982), Valerie Harper starred in Rhoda (1974 to 1978), and Cloris Leachman starred in Phyllis (1975 to 1977). The show was one of the most acclaimed programs in American television history, winning Emmy Awards for Outstanding Comedy Series three years in a row ((1975 through 1977). In 2013 The Writers Guild of America ranked The Mary Tyler Moore Show Number 6 in its list of the 101 Best Written TV Series of All Time.


The Seventies was a great decade for sitcoms,

The Seventies was a great decade for sitcoms,




(1972 to 1983)

Suicide is painless.

Suicide is painless.

The long-running and incredibly successful TV series known as M*A*S*H was an adaptation of Robert Altman’s hilarious 1970 motion picture of the same name. The series was developed by Larry Gelbart. The writers included Gelbart, Alan Alda, Mike Farrell and McLean Stevenson. Gelbart kept Altman’s theme music (Suicide is Painless), and most of the original characters from the movie. The series follows the antics of the members of the “4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital” during the three years of the Korean Conflict. A wide range of bizarre characters interact in a show that spanned 256 episodes over eleven seasons. Cast members include: Alan Alda, Wayne Rogers, McLean Stevenson, Loretta Swit, Larry Linville, Gary Burghoff, Mike Farrell, Harry Morgan, and Jamie Farr. I can remember where I was when Kennedy was shot, and during New York’s great blackout in 1967, and where I watched the last episode of M*A*S*H. The show’s finale on February 28, 1983, Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen became, at the time, the most-watched, and highest-rated single television episode in American television history, with a record breaking 125 million viewers (60.2 rating and 77share). Many of the scripts in the early seasons were based on tales told by real MASH surgeons who were interviewed by the production team. Like Altman’s movie, the series was as much an allegory about the Vietnam War (still in progress when the show began) as it was about the Korean Conflict.


Members of the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital.

Members of the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital.




(1970 to 1975)

Great characters can survive many casts.

Great characters can survive many casts.

It’s often the case that a theatrical character, given a signature performance by the perfect actor for that role, becomes unwanted territory forever after for actors seeking a role to play. Would any actor be believed as Patton, after the world has seen George C. Scott? No one in his right mind would consider attempting it. But then, rare as they might be, there are exceptions. When Neil Simon wrote the Odd Couple for Broadway, he created two characters, Oscar Madison and Felix Unger, whose quirky personalities were so delightfully extreme that they might be performed by a variety of actors, with equal appeal to an audience. Simon’s original Felix was Art Carney, and his Oscar was Walter Matthau – perfect actors for those juicy roles. I saw The Odd Couple on Broadway with that cast three times, and at the time I couldn’t imagine any other actor playing either role. They were perfect. No one else could ever play those parts. It would be like trying to imagine anyone other than Zero Mostel as Max Bialystok. Then came the 1968 movie. Jack Lemmon was given the role of Felix, and the chemistry between Lemmon and Matthau was every bit as good as the Carney/Matthau combination had been in the stage play. I can remember looking forward to seeing the movie with some trepidation, having loved Carney in the play. But I was surprised – Lemmon was fabulous. This happens rarely. Then, in 1970, The Odd Couple, which had been an incredibly successful stage play, and equally successful movie, became a television sitcom. But who would play Felix? Who would play Oscar? Would a famous movie star like Jack Lemmon lower himself by acting in a TV series? The television version of The Odd Couple was developed by Garry Marshall and Jerry Belson for Paramount Television. Among the original casting considerations were Mickey Rooney or Martin Balsam as Oscar, and Dean Martin or Art Carney as Felix, the role Carney had invented on Broadway. Eventually, Tony Randall was cast as Felix, and Randall lobbied hard for Mickey Rooney to play Oscar. But the show’s producer, Garry Marshall, lobbied even harder for Jack Klugman, and Klugman got the part. So now we have Randall and Klugman as Felix and Oscar, and, surprise of surprises – they were great. Among the show’s directors were Marshall, Belson, Jerry Paris, Hal Cooper, and Alan Rafkin. The writing team included Marshall, Belson, Neil Simon, Mickey Rose, Ron Friedman, and Rick Mittleman. The Odd Couple is a permanent fixture in anyone’s recollections of the Seventies. I just loved the Seventies.

Felix and Oscar

Felix and Oscar




(1972 to 1977)


Crusty and Cantankerous Fred Sanford

Crusty and Cantankerous Fred Sanford

When Groucho Marks told Dick Cavett that he watched “The Schwartzes”, he of course meant Sanford and Son, a ground breaking sitcom with an entirely African American cast of characters. The show was based on the BBC’s hit sitcom Steptoe and Son, and was developed by, I told you they’d be back, Norman Lear and Bud Yorkin; although Lear went uncredited. Has there ever been a more irascible and cantankerous character than Fred Sanford? He seemed like NBC’s answer to All in the Family – the black Archie Bunker. Fred Sanford’s bigoted banter – “Son, there aint nothin’ as ugly as a ole white woman.” – was tempered by his kinder and gentler son Lamont (Desmond Wilson), who is often bewildered by his father’s venomous opinions. The show was filled by an equally irascible cast of characters: Aunt Esther (LaWanda Page), Grady Wilson (Whitman Mayo), Bubba Bexley (Don Bexley), and Rollo Lawson (Nathaniel Taylor). Sanford and Son was a ratings hit throughout its six season run. In 1977 Redd Foxx left the series to do a variety show for ABC. There were three NBC spin offs: Sanford (1980 to 1981), Grady (1975 to 1976) starring Whitman Mayo, and Sanford Arms (1977). The writing team included: Ray Galton, Norman Lear, Alan Simpson, Bernie Orenstein and Saul Turteltaub. In 2007, Time Magazine included the show on its list of the “100 Best TV Shows od All Time.


“Son, there ain’t nothin’ as ugly as an ole white woman.”




(1989 to 1998)

The last of the great sitcoms.

The last of the great sitcoms.

The last of the great sitcoms. Created and developed by Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld, the series would remain a ratings colossus throughout its nine seasons, topping the Nielsen charts in four. The syndication royalties were astronomical, making Jerry Seinfeld a very, very rich man. In 2000 he would purchase Billy Joel’s oceanfront house in Amagansett for 35 Million Dollars. In 1997, the episodes The Boyfriend and The Parking Garage were respectively ranked numbers 4 and 33 in TV Guide’s 100 Greatest Episodes of All Time. In 2009, the episode The Contest was named number 1 on the same magazine’s 100 Greatest Episodes. In 2013, The Writer’s Guild named Seinfeld the 2nd best written series of all time (The Sopranos was #1). The show is set predominantly in Jerry’s Upper West Side apartment, the surrounding neighborhood, and the corner Diner. The characters, a craftily cast bunch if there ever was one, include: Jerry’s High School buddy George Costanza (Jason Alexander), Jerry’s former girlfriend Elaine Benes (Julia Louise-Dreyfus), and Jerry’s neighbor across the hall Cosmo Kramer (Michael Richards). Seinfeld was produced by Castle Rock Entertainment. In syndication, the series has been distributer by Sony Pictures Television since 2002. Week after week, season after season, Seinfeld consistently delivered cleverly written, hilariously performed, and craftily delivered shows on a level of the very best ever aired on television. The writing team included: Larry David, Jerry Seinfeld, Larry Charles, Peter Mehlman, Steve Koren, Jennifer Crittenden, Tom Gammill, Marjorie Gross, Elaine Pope, and Spike Feresten. The Directors included: David Steinberg, Art Wolff, Tom Cherones, Andy Ackerman, and David Owen Trainor. As with The Honeymooners, everyone has a favorite Seinfeld episode. Mine are any containing the Soup Nazi.

Collecting some hardware.

Collecting some hardware.




(1978 to 1982 on ABC – 1982 to 1983 on NBC)

Odd ball characters played by equally odd ball actors.

Odd ball characters played by equally odd ball actors.

The series, which won 18 Emmy Awards, including three for Outstanding Comedy Series, follows the lives of a handful of New York City taxi drivers and their delightfully abusive dispatcher (Guess who). Taxi was produced by the John Charles Walters Company, in association with Paramount Network Television, and was created and developed by James L. Brooks, Stan Daniels, David Davis and Ed Weinberger. The show is basically a one set production, the action taking place in the fleet garage of the fictional Sunshine Cab Company. The formula here seems to be: create an extraordinarily off-beat bunch of characters, cast these characters with an equally off-beat bunch of actors – throw it all in the hopper, and, with clever scripting and direction, hope for the best. And the best is exactly what happens. The employees of the Sunshine Cab Company are a motley crew, including frustrated actor Bobby (Jeff Conaway), struggling boxer Tony (Tony Danza), art gallery receptionist Elaine (Marilu Henner), and tyrannical dispatcher Louie (Danny DeVito). For almost everyone, the cab company is just a temporary job that can be left behind when they make it in their chosen professions. The hardened core of the company is disillusioned Alex (Judd Hirsch), who’s sure he will be driving a cab for the rest of his life. Burned-out ex-hippie minister Reverend Jim (Chistopher Lloyd) and mechanic Latka Gravas (Andy Kaufman) to round out the group. I don’t think there has ever been a funnier character on television than Danny DeVito’s devilishly despotic Louie. James L. Brooks’s formula worked to a tee, delivering six seasons of delicious nonsense.


Louie knows a thing or two.

Louie knows a thing or two.



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Ten rainy day whodunits that have stood the test of time.

By Shaun Costello


Just exactly who was the best cinematic Private Eye, anyway? For my money, Phillip Marlowe is tough to beat, even though he was beaten up fairly often, staggering to his feet after being cold-cocked with a heavy object (usually a gun butt) held in the hand of a beguiling femme fatale who had gotten the drop on him. Marlowe leads the chase in three of the titles I’m listing here, and is played by three different actors.  Two of these films were adapted from the same book, Raymond Chandler’s Farewell My Lovely. The first, Murder My Sweet (1944) was renamed as box office strategy, which I suppose worked, to a degree. And, the 1975 remake with the original Farewell My Lovely title intact. The third Marlowe caper, Howard Hawks’ The Big Sleep, had maybe the greatest writing team ever assembled, even though the audience had a tough time figuring out what, in God’s name, this movie was about. Sam Spade, a Dashiell Hammett creation, and a Marlowe contemporary is of course, the chief sleuth in The Maltese Falcon, which has Bogie and Huston and the fabulous Warner Bothers repertory company, and lines like, “You’re good. You’re very good”.   

But, what about Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, Nick and Nora Charles and their clue-finding pup Asta, Mike Hammer, Jake Gittes – snappy snoops all; tough, relentless, with a curiosity that won’t quit. These guys will stop at nothing in getting to the bottom of things, sorting out the details, finding out exactly who killed whom, and why.


In alphabetical order:

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

Alfred L. Werker   1939


The best of the Basil Rathbone/Nigel Bruce Holmes/Watson capers, from Fox and Darryl Zanuck. Holmes and Watson again do battle with that criminal genius, Professor Moriarty, nicely played here by George Zucco. And, this one’s got the fabulous Ida Lupino to add a bit of heat.

Moriarty has a plan to make off with the Crown Jewels, but Holmes stands in his way. Juicy Holmesian dialogue like:

Holmes, “You’ve a magnificent brain, Moriarty. I admire it. I admire it so much I’d like to present it pickled in alcohol to the London Medical Society.”
Moriarty, “That would make an interesting exhibit. Holmes, you’ve only now barely missed sending me to the gallows. You’re the one man in England clever enough to defeat me. The situation has become impossible.”

Holmes, “Have you any suggestions?”
Moriarty, “I’m going to break you Holmes. I’m going to bring off right under your nose the most incredible crime of the century, and you’ll never suspect it until it’s too late. That will be the end of you Mr. Sherlock Holmes. And when I’ve beaten and ruined you then I can retire in peace. I’d like to retire; crime no longer amuses me. I’d like to devote my remaining years to abstract science.”

Crafty direction by Alfred Werker, and a solid screenplay by Edwin Blum and William Drake. And, lovely black and white cinematography by Leon Shamroy.

Solid sleuthing, all around.


The Big Sleep

Howard Hawks   1946


Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe finds himself in a nest of vipers, as usual, in this brilliant, if a bit confusing, film noir. Howard Hawks, probably Hollywood’s best dialogue director, has

 a field day, juggling juicy lingo penned by an incredible writing team that included William Faulkner, Leigh Brackett, Jules Furthman, and Hawks himself. The problem is, the story makes no sense. But, who cares, with Bogie as Marlowe, and Betty Bacall as a devious femme fatale. The now-famous jockey/horse-Bogie/Betty scene, filled with hilarious sexual innuendo, was added to the troubled production over a year later to spice things up. A solid cast, including a surprisingly sprite Dorothy Malone, makes this movie work, even if you may have trouble understanding what’s going on. Nice black and white lensing by Sidney Hickox, and a haunting, if sometimes abrupt, musical score by Max Steiner.  I’ve seen this picture an embarrassing number of times, but for you, once should be enough – but see it!

Best scene: Bogie and Malone in the book store.



Roman Polanski   1974

1 Oscar


“C’mon Jake, it’s Chinatown”, pleads Gittes’s friend, attempting to drag him away from the horrific car scene at the very end of the film. “Chinatown” means what you think, but it’s also an old expression meaning crazy, upside-down, or meshuganah – something best left alone. This is may be the best period film ever

made, and Polanski does it without the usual cheap tricks like historical references. He does it instead, with a fabulous cast, John Alonzo’s scorched cinematography, Jerry Goldsmith’s luscious score, Anthea Sylbert’s glamorous costumes, and Robert Towne’s Oscar winning screenplay. It’s all about water – Los Angeles doesn’t have any. And the Hollis Mulwray character is based on William Mulholland, the brilliant head of LA’s water department, who turned this parched patch of Southern California into the metropolis it was to become.

Jack Nicholson, as Jake Gittes, a private eye who makes a living on matrimonial cases, is sucked into a noirish whirlpool, where virtually nothing is as it seems. Polanski does a masterful job of slowing down Nicholson’s usually manic delivery, turning the performance into something more sensual and cunning. Faye Dunawaye is elegantly deceitful, and Polanski himself, plays a murderous knife wielding midget. But it’s John Huston’s Noah Cross that steals the show.

One of my all-time fave films. If anyone reading this hasn’t seen it, you’ll probably find a disc at your local library. Delicious sleuthing.

Best scene: Anything with John Huston, and “My sister – my daughter, my sister-my daughter, my sister AND my daughter.”


 Farewell My Lovely

Dick Richards   1975


This is the third and, in my opinion, best movie made from Raymond Chandler’s  1940 novel. As I’ve previously stated, Philip Marlowe is my favorite Private Eye and, although Bogie was near-perfect in The Big Sleep, Robert Mitchum is even better, as a big, hulking Marlowe, who seems constantly recovering from a whack on the noggin, or the woozy effect of the knock-out drops that some swell dame slipped in his drink. Unlike Polanski’s Chinatown, director Dick Richards uses the historical reference of Joe Dimaggio’s 57 game hitting streak throughout the movie to maintain a feel for 1940 period. OK, so it’s a gimmick, but a forgivable one – it works. Come to think of it, just about everything in this movie works. Great Chandler narration like, “I’d hardly reached the corner, when a hand so big I could of sat in it, landed on my shoulder”. Besides a wonderfully effective Mitchum, Charlotte Rampling provides the heat in a cast rounded out by John Ireland and Sylvia Miles. There’s even a quick glimpse of Sly Stallone in one of his first movie roles. Dark and sultry lensing, once again by John Alonzo, and a delicious musical score by David Shire make this recreation of 1940 Los Angeles believable. If you can find a DVD of this – pounce.


   Kiss Me Deadly

Robert Aldrich   1955


No more Mr. Nice Guy – not with Mickey Spillane’s brutal, tough, take-no-prisoners Mike Hammer on the case, and in this case, the case is a box – Pandora’s Box, filled with nuclear material ready to go off. Ah, the Fifties, when every right-thinking American had the A-Bomb on his mind, 24 hours a day. An apocalyptic murder mystery? You bet, and Mike Hammer’s the right guy to put the pieces together. A nice turn here by Ralph Meeker, as the Private Eye with an attitude problem. And the movie debuts of Cloris Leachman, and Maxine Cooper

On a lonely country road, Hammer gives a ride to Christina (Cloris Leachman), an attractive hitchhiker wearing nothing but a trench coat. She has escaped from a nearby mental institution. Thugs waylay them and Hammer awakens in some unknown location where he hears Christina screaming and being tortured to death. The thugs then push Hammer’s car off a cliff with Christina’s body and an unconscious Hammer inside. Hammer next awakens in a hospital with Velda (Maxine Copper) at his bedside. He decides to pursue the case, both for vengeance and because, “She (Christina) must be connected with something big”.

The great whatsit”, as Velda calls it, at the center of Hammer’s quest, is a small, mysterious valise that is hot to the touch and contains a dangerous, glowing substance. It represents, of course, the 1950s Cold War fear and nuclear paranoia about the atomic bomb that was all the rage back then.

A dark, noirish nightmare, deftly handled by director Aldrich. Murky, night time Los Angeles locations, made to shine by cinematographer Ernst Laszlo. This is a low budget ($400,000), no nonsense, first rate film noir, with a game cast, and a savvy director. A film not to miss.



Otto Preminger  1944


OK, I know, I know – it’s not a private eye movie, it’s a cop caper, but it’s Laura, the one and only, and this is MY list so it’s just tough. We have to get past this. Good.

A detective (Dana Andrews) investigating the grisly murder of a famous actress (Gene Tierney) falls in love with her painting. The more he hears about her, the deeper his spell. (I’d do the same thing if that music followed me around all the time) Everyone Andrews interviews seem to be in love with her too. Venomous gossip columnist Waldo Lydecker (Clifton Webb) seems to be the late Laura’s biggest booster. Her grief stricken fiancé Shelby (Vincent Price) is beside himself. Just who would kill such a beloved creature? Just when the audience settles in to accepting lovely Laura’s demise, plot twist of plot twists, the door to her apartment opens, and in walks, you guessed it, Laura, live and lovelier than ever.  Andrews, who had fallen asleep on the couch under Laura’s portrait, is awaked to find his obsession, alive and kicking, and wondering what this stranger is doing in her apartment. As Andrews adjusts to this new situation, he finds the living Laura to be everything he’d hoped. But, who was the disfigured corpse, who everyone mistook for Laura? It turns out that Lydecker’s obsession with our leading lady got the better of him. If he couldn’t have her, he’d kill her instead. But he shot the wrong woman, and she was too disfigured to identify, so everyone assumed it was Laura’s body. A living Laura is just too much for Lydecker to accept, so he tries once again to kill her. Andrews intercedes, shooting the murderous Lydecker in the knick of time. As Waldo lies dying on Laura’s carpet, and of course under the portrait, his last words are, “Goodbye. Laura. Goodbye, my love.”

It sounds pretty silly, but it works. Tierney is simply too beautiful to believe, and a game cast does wonders with this material. But, maybe the most important element, the glue that binds this classic together, is David Raskin’s haunting, memorable musical score – one of the real champs. I wonder what happened to the portrait?


The Maltese Falcon

John Huston   1941


This 1941 Warner Brothers release is the third movie version of Dashiell Hammett’s novel. The first, released in 1931, starred Ricardo Cortez as Sam Spade, while the second, Satan Met a Lady, was a loose adaptation that was a bit more comedic. It was released in 1936, with Warren William, and a very young Bette Davis in the leading roles. Warner Brothers had been prevented from re-releasing the 1931 version by the Hays Office censors, because of its “lewd” content, so they went into production in 1941, on a new, cleaned up version, which is the beauty we all know and love.

First-time director John Huston wanted Bogie to play Sam Spade, but producer Hal Wallis wanted veteran leading man George Raft, who rejected it because he didn’t want to work with a first-time director. Raft also turned down the lead in Raoul Walsh’s “High Sierra”, the film that launched Bogie’s career as a leading man.

An aside here – I’m reading the Hammett novel for the first time as I’m writing this. I’ve read all of Raymond Chandler, but somehow missed Hammett.

So, is The Maltese Falcon the ultimate private eye caper? You be the judge, but if it’s not, then it’s certainly close. Warner’s had the best ensemble of character actors in Hollywood, and most of them strut their stuff here. Beyond Bogey and Mary Astor, there’s Peter Lorre as Joel Cairo, Sidney Greenstreet as Gutman, Barton MacClane and Ward Bond as Spade’s detective buddies, and Lee Patrick as Effie, who Spade addresses as “Precious” and “Darlin”.  Huston even hired his father Walter, to play the ship’s Captain.

Whose got the bird, is the game played here. What exactly IS this Maltese Falcon, anyway? And why is it worth so many murders? Astor wants it, Greenstreet wants it, Lorre wants it, and the body count is mounting. Juicy, nest of vipers stuff here, and Huston is up to the task of getting the most out of this remarkable cast. A solid, tangy screenplay, written by the first-time director, nice dark lensing by Arthur Edeson, and a warm musical score by Arthur Deutsch. A bird for all seasons.

“You’re good. You’re very good”, say’s Bogie to Astor, and who among us could argue? 





Murder, My Sweet

Edward Dmytryk   1944


This is the second movie made from Raymond Chandler’s Farewell My Lovely novel, and has a very different feel from the 1975, and third remake, above. The powers that be at RKO thought that changing the title to Murder, My Sweet would add some zip the film’s box office. Who knows, but the film did well.

Casting crooner Dick Powell in the Marlowe role was a gamble, but he’s an effective, if different gumshoe. With a small budget to work with, and 1944’s censorship problems to overcome, Dmytryk does an admirable job creating a dark, violent world for Marlowe and his cronies to inhabit. Nice turns by Claire Trevor, Anne Shirley, and Otto Kruger. And, solid black and white camerawork by Harry Wild, plus a low-key musical score by Roy Webb rounds out the production. Powell is surprising here, and worth a look. Like Alec Guinness as George Smiley, when I read Chandler, I hear Mitchum’s voice, but Powell gives us an alternative.


Murder on the Orient Express

Sidney Lumet   1974


Agatha Chistie had been quite displeased with some film adaptations of her works made in the 1960s, and accordingly, was unwilling to sell any more film rights. When Nat Cohen, chairman of EMI Films, and producer John Brabourne attempted to get her approval for this film, they felt it necessary to have Lord Mountbatten of Burma (of the British Royal Family and also Brabourne’s father-in-law) help them broach the subject.

In the end, according to Christie’s husband Max Mallowan, “Agatha herself has always been allergic to the adaptation of her books by the cinema, but was persuaded to give a rather grudging appreciation to this one.” Christie’s biographer, Gwen Robyns, quoted her as saying, “It was well made except for one mistake. It was Albert Finney, as my detective Hercule Poirot. I wrote that he had the finest moustache in England — and he didn’t in the film. I thought that a pity — why shouldn’t he?”

Hey, Finney’s waxed lip-rug worked for me, but so did everything else in this dazzling film. I’m not the biggest fan of star vehicles, but Sidney Lumet somehow coaxed, cajoled, persuaded, and probably black-mailed this extraordinary ensemble of show business luminaries into one remarkable performance after another. Finney is a fastidious, almost effeminate Poirot, surrounded by a passenger list that includes (I’m going to name them all because it’s just such an amazing group) Lauren Bacall, Sean Connery, Ingrid Bergman, Michael York, Vanessa Redgrave, Jacqueline Bisset, Richard Widmark, John Gielgud, Anthony Perkins, Martin Balsam, Rachel Roberts, Wendy Hiller, Denis Quilley, Colin Blakely, Jean-Pierre Cassel, and George Coulouris. And, their performances are all uniquely effective, and totally entertaining.

A complex Agatha Christie mystery, in the hands of a neurotic, self-involved detective, on the world’s greatest train, with a trainload of odd characters as suspects. Top notch lensing here by the masterful Geoffrey Unsworth, a lovely, waltzy score by Richard Rodney Bennett, and Lumet’s crafty direction make this memorable.

Best lines:

A throaty Finney, “Touch notheeeeeeng”

John Gielgud as a British valet, “It all started in a fracas in the mess, over a desert called “Spotted Dick”

Igrid Bergman as a Swedish missionary to Africa, “I vont to, um, help little brown babies, who, um, are less fortunate than, um, myself”


The Thin Man

W. S. Van Dyke   1934

Dashiell Hammett’s crafty couple Nick and Nora Charles are on the case here, in the original of, what would become, a series of detective capers. They’ve even got a snoopy, clue-fetching dog, Asta – played by a wire haired fox terrier named Skippy. Nick (William Powell), a retired detective, and his wife Nora (Myrna Loy) are attempting to settle in to retirement when the disappearance of a friend pulls him back into professional snooping. Nick decides he’ll solve the case, much to the amusement of his socialite wife. The dead bodies, and empty martini glasses pile up, as an ever-tipsy Nick and Nora, endlessly clever banter at the ready, roll up their sleeves, along with their pup, and do some slippery sleuthing.

All of the suspects are invited to a hilarious dinner party, where Nick and Nora, in a series of brilliant, if tipsy, deductions, solve the mystery. Clever dialogue, written by Albert Hackett and Frances Goodrich, and deftly delivered by two pros, drives this unique, comedic mystery. Sparkling black and white lensing by James Wong Howe, and strong ensemble work by Metro’s talent pool make this a movie not to miss. Funny doings.



© 2011 Shaun Costello

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