(1962. Dir. John Frankenheimer. Frank Sinatra. Laurence Harvey. Janet Leigh. Angela Landsbury. Henry Silva. James Gregory. Khigh Dheigh. 127 min.) If the word gripping is ever used, here's the benchmark. Truly superb movie based on Richard Condon’s 1959 bestseller. Condon’s style was lurid, hard-boiled and kind of breathless, the writing akin to that of a press agent which Condon was in Hollywood until he quit the bizz to write fiction. Though the book was more political satire with elements of a thriller, Frankenheimer’s distillation flips the equation around; judicious rearranging of some scenes and a grabbing of all the books best lines puts the 'sleuth for the truth' story front and center. Sergeant Raymond Shaw (Laurence Harvey) returns from The Korean War a Congressional Medal of Honor winner, having saved his patrol from a platoon of Chinese infantry. Or did he? His superior officer Captain Marco (Sinatra), who was also on the patrol that disappeared for days is having recurring nightmares and second thoughts about what was said happened and what really happened. Whether by accident or design Frankenheimer’s black and white photography and expressionist style give good Twilight Zone. And in some scenes, like where programmed-killer Shaw shoots his father-in-law and wife and has no memory of it, there is a sublime horror. The last fourth of the movie the best thirty minutes in American cinema. That and a marvelous cast with James Gregory as an idiot right wing Senator and Shaw’s step father; Angela Landsbury pre Jessica Fletcher as Shaw’s conniving, power hungry mommy; and the great Khigh Dheigh (Wo Fat from Hawaii 5-0) the Chinese brainwashing expert. How can I get you to see this movie? I know … why don’t you pass the time playing a game of solitaire …
