Now, that shouldn’t replace the requirements that producers, directors, and screenwriters still manage to deliver a finished product that excels. My point is that something that’s been done before – like the big screen police procedural – isn’t always easy to perfect because there have been so many of them. The 1950’s, 1960’s, and 1970’s saw a great deal of them brought to life as the requisite formula evolved to include more grittiness as standards relaxed; and quite a few of them continue to score points deservedly and win fans decades later. Granted, not all of them have aged as well as others; and this is why it’s sometimes important to remember what was accomplished against stricter scrutiny as the end product could’ve been a bit visionary for its time and place.
Such could be said of 1962’s Experiment In Terror.
While it’s largely regarded as a bit of an ‘odd duck’ in director Blake Edwards’ catalogue (FYI: he was chiefly known for comedies, and this crime/thriller is completely void of laughs), the title might still be forgotten when compared to so many tighter stories that came out of the same era much less the more kinetic and riveting ones that emerged in the 1970’s. Still, there are some ingredients that Edwards arguably got right in this tense melodrama between a master criminal and the smart women he puts through the paces; and I’ll try to highlight those as everything else squeezed into the overlong script feels a bit too routine in comparison.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A man with an asthmatic voice telephones and assaults clerk Kelly Sherwood at home and coerces her into helping him steal a large sum from her bank.”
Garland Humphrey ‘Red’ Lynch (as played by Ross Martin) has devised a means to pull off a bank heist while keeping his hands surprisingly free of such dirty work. Through observation and research, he learns the identities of bank tellers and then goes about the business of studying their lives – along with associated friends and acquaintances – to learn wherein there could be a relationship worthy of exploiting. By doing so, he’s mastered the art of finding an accomplice he can require to steal whatever sum he needs, promising to reward the thief with a small pay-off for the time and effort to make it all a reality. Yes, it requires a bit of thuggery to get the good-hearted man or woman to cooperate, but Red is certainly up for that task, proving that he’s good for more than merely planning.
Enter Kelly Sherwood (Lee Remick), that noble girl-next-door lady who spends her days as a teller so that she can make enough money to keep a house over her head for her and her kid sister, Toby (Stefanie Powers). Red corners her one evening in her garage and threatens Toby’s life unless the lady is willing to – upon his demand – walk out of the bank with a cool $100,000 to purchase their freedom and safety. Naturally, there would be a heavy price to pay if Kelly went to the authorities, and he proves only moments later that he’s keeping an eye on the two of them to avoid any such eventuality. Indeed, Kelly quickly realizes she’s no other choice but to do as the man commands … or else.
Normally, that would be enough of a set-up to weave a reasonably interesting yarn, but Experiment – as based on the novel by Gordon and Mildred Gordon – ratchets up the tension by involving Federal Bureau of Investigation agent John Ripley (Glenn Ford) and his crack squad of do-gooders. They figure out a workaround to avoid their being spied by Lynch, and this opens the door for a variety of sequences in which Experiment turns into a rather predictable procedural wherein law enforcement officers go about the task of uncovering Red’s identity as well as tie-ins to previous robberies and maybe even the suggestion of motivation for why he needs such a sum as quickly as he does. While good, this isn’t the kind of thing that hasn’t been done before (and better, frankly), but Ford arguably makes the most of the effort, carrying the picture through a great deal of standardized moments.
Chiefly, I can’t help but wonder if some of the film’s pacing problems might be owed to the source material. Adaptations can be a difficult prospect, especially when the authors are also contracted to pen the resulting screenplay (as was the case here); and their affinity for retaining what they felt were strong points of a novel perhaps could’ve used the perspective of a potential rewrite. What works in a book doesn’t always translate well to the screen; and the resulting slow pace here suggests that the Gordons may’ve been too enamored with the book’s structure instead of properly revising it for film. Being unfamiliar with their book, I can’t say for certain; and yet I’m willing to bet money the parallels probably rack up fairly quickly. A trim here and there might’ve made this one memorable beyond its best bits, but – as is often the case – we’ll never know for sure.
While I’d never describe the script as tight in any estimation, the sequences between Lynch and Sherwood simmer with palpable tension; and – as the plot develops – the two continue pressing one another’s button deliciously as their circumstances evolve. Martin makes for an impressive screen heavy – while he plays the part of the villain with a measure of expectedness, it’s still convincing enough to carry the picture through its many, many, many quiet moments – and Remick is the kind of gal audiences root for even though we’re all too aware that she likely doesn’t have the stuff to stand toe-to-toe with her antagonist. Sadly, the film spends far too much time in police procedural stuff that just isn’t that interesting; and there’s a late-breaking motivation subplot that kinda/sorta suggests maybe we should all feel sorry for Lynch. Could he be a bad guy doing the wrong thing for the right reason? Well, if you stand for justice, you don’t really care for such social politicking; and I think a better flick could’ve emerged if that premise had been culled in the editing room.
Experiment In Terror (1962) was produced by Geoffrey-Kate Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Sony via Allied Vaughn. As for the technical specifications? Wowza. While I’m no trained video expert, this black-and-white production looks exceptionally noirish from start to finish: there’s a bit of grain in some sequences, but methinks that’s largely owed to the fact that so much of the dark rendered in close-ups can and will show a bit of dissolution over the years. Still, the cinematography is to be commended. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, this release hasn’t a one, and that’s a big miss for this old school film junkie.
Recommended, but …
I’d be remiss if I failed to admit that I found a good portion of Experiment In Terror not only dated but a bit of a narrative slog. Sadly, we’ve seen police procedurals hundreds if not thousands of times; and when your finished product both feels and works like so many of those the freshness of the better moments have to perform on another level, which doesn’t quite happen here. The crime scenes – the opening, the telephone calls between the perpetrator and those he’s manipulating, the big crowd showdown, etc. – are exceptional. But the stuff in between? Well … we’ve been there and done that all too often, so this one could’ve used a bit of polish.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Allied Vaughn provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Experiment In Terror (1962) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ