THE DESPERATE HOURS: Blu-ray (Paramount, 1955) Arrow Academy

Director, William Wyler’s The Desperate Hours is probably one of the finest films ever made. Without debate, it was one of the very best offerings from 1955. That it was virtually overlooked by all but the New York critics for accolades, and otherwise lost in the heady slate of more glossy fare blazing across theater marquees at the zenith of the Eisenhower era, remains a tragic oversight, one compounded by the fact the picture, in more recent times, has received little to zero fanfare to resurrect its status. Around our house, William Wyler is much revered. As here was a director, unlike many of his peers, who strove to conquer virtually every genre in the canon of movies, and not simply to offer ‘an example’ in each, but more oft than not, to create the definitive exemplar by which other similarly-themed content might be judged. Between 1942 and 1966, Wyler was on a rare streak of success, creating classic American cinema, long-since to have withstood the test of time. These truly were ‘the best years of his life’! And on this outing, Wyler is ably abetted by cinematographer extraordinaire, Lee Garmes – an irrefutable artist in his craft, whose laundry list of movie credits is as humbling as Wyler’s accomplishments in the director’s chair.

If only for Wyler and Garmes, The Desperate Hours would already have much to offer the casual viewer. But the picture also costars two titans of the screen: Humphrey Bogart, as toughie – Glenn Griffin and Frederic March – his intended victim, Daniel C. Hilliard. Bogart, who had begun his Warner Bros. career playing brutal thugs and gangsters was, arguably, reverting to type here, though alas, was also fading fast from the esophageal cancer that would claim him barely 2-years later. March, on the other hand, was entering his emeritus years – skewed to playing men of questionably anemic character. Both are in rare form – Bogart, with the more flamboyant ‘Duke Mantee-esque’ role, offering a final testament to the irrefutable fact he had few peers in Hollywood. It’s a fascinating performance, with Bogie creating unusual and riveting empathy for a character otherwise wholly unlikeable and dangerous. The Desperate Hours is based on Joseph Hayes’ novel (and later, his play) of the same name, inspired by actual events in 1952, in which five members of the Hill family were held hostage for 19 hours. The family sued Life Magazine, after they published a piece to suggest as much, as the Hills had since moved away, seeking anonymity rather than publicity regarding their ordeal. Mr. Hill was appalled by the claim Hayes had ‘accurately’ depicted the home invasion perpetrated on his family. In reality – or so Mr. Hill claimed – the invaders had not harmed him or his family, but were curiously courteous while holding them hostage. Ultimately, the Hills’ suit was distilled to compensatory damages, with the court eventually ruling in Time/Life’s favor.

Wyler shooting The Desperate Hours in VistaVision is a little like George Steven’s making The Diary of Anne Frank (1959) in Cinemascope – wholly unnecessary. Both movies are in B&W – an actual ‘first’ for VistaVision – initially conceived exclusively as a ‘Technicolor’ showcase for motion picture hi-fidelity. But what Garmes does with Paramount’s ultra-high-resolution film process is extraordinary, his deep-focus compositions truly heightening the menace of the piece while showing off the production design of Joseph MacMillan Johnson and Hal Periera. On stage, The Desperate Hours was a one-set wonder. Wyler and Hayes have done a spectacular job of subtly ‘opening up’ this stagecraft (the exteriors of the Hilliard house are actually the same set used for Leave It To Beaver and Marcus Welby, M.D.) without ever losing that sense of the claustrophobic atmosphere so integral to the show’s last act.

Plot wise: we find Glenn Griffin as the mastermind of a daring prison break along with his two cohorts, Samuel Kobish (Robert Middleton) and Hal Griffin (Dewey Martin). This motley crew’s modus operandi is to break into unsuspecting suburban households. At present, they intend to victimize the Hilliards. It’s an easy mark. Ellie Hilliard (Martha Scott) is home alone, and opens the door for Glenn, unaware Samuel is already in the house. Griffin and his men need a few hours to hold up, wait for a package sent to Griffin by his gal/pal on the outside, and, elude Sherriff Masters (Ray Collins), Deputy Sheriff Jesse Bard (Arthur Kennedy) the detective (Alan Reed) and FBI agent, Carson (Whit Bissell). Too bad, as one by one, the family arrive home for what they first perceive to be just another day at the ole homestead, they instead are introduced to their own terrorizing fates. To maintain appearances, Griffin allows the Hilliard’s eldest daughter, Cindy (Mary Murphy) to keep her date with boyfriend, Chuck Wright (Gig Young). Meanwhile, Ellie lies to Miss Swift (Beverly Garland) about their youngest son, Ralphy (Richard Eyer) being too ill to attend school.

Too bad, Kobish has since hit the bottle and decided when Cindy comes home, she will be his for the asking. Spared a sexual attack by Hal, who holds his cohort at gunpoint, Glenn has to further subdue Kobish with the butt of his pistol. Cindy goes for Hal’s pistol by biting his hand. Order is restored, but not before Daniel takes one on the noggin for his bravery. Nursing his head wound, Ellie makes her husband promise he will never attempt such foolhardy chivalry again. The next day, Glenn orders Daniel and Cindy go about their business. In the meantime, city garbage collector, George Patterson (Walter Baldwin) takes notice of Glenn’s getaway car in the Hilliard’s garage.  Ambushed by Kobish, Patterson is forced to drive out in the county. However, once in a remote area, Patterson banks his truck over a steep embankment and makes a daring break for it. He is murdered by Kobish. Now, Miss Swift has come to pay a call to inquire about Ralph’s health.

Kobish returns with Daniel, who feigns having met him at a local watering hole and just returned for a nightcap. Again, nerves are frayed. Eventually, Carson intercepts Daniel who informs on the entire layout of the crime. Perceiving something is remiss, Hal elects to go it on his own without telling Glenn or Kobish. Sometime later, he panics while in a phone booth at a roadside diner and shoots a police officer he suspects has identified him from his mug shot. Making a break for it, Hal is inadvertently run down by a truck just outside the diner. Police intercept Kobish, leaving Glenn to hold Ralphy at gunpoint in the Hilliard’s attic to maintain a toehold on his own freedom. Instead, Daniel forces a showdown. Glenn’s gun jams. Ralphy escapes and Daniel holds Glenn at gunpoint. Forcing Glenn out of his home where a police barricade has been erected, Glenn decides to make one last stab to save his skin. Instead, he is machine-gunned when he hurls his firearm at a police spotlight, leaving the Hilliards to pick up the pieces of their devastated family life.

The Desperate Hours in an expertly played crime/drama. Paul Newman was Glenn Griffin on Broadway, but, as yet, not considered ‘bankable’ at the time this movie was made. So, Hollywood fell back on Bogart’s reputation as one of Warner Bros. ‘murderer’s row’, long-since graduated to a more diverse palette in star turns. In effect, Bogart came full-circle in his career playing Glenn Griffin, and proving (as though proof were needed) the enduring stain of that boogie-man/gangster milieu had not mellowed with time. But even Bogart was to acknowledge his time for such thug muscle was at an end. Reportedly, he told director, William Wyler, “I’m getting too old for this.”  Wyler’s swiftly assured direction guarantees there are some bone-chilling moments of high suspense peppered throughout The Desperate Hours, played with a heightened sense of ambiguity as to how any of this will turn out in the end. Although the entire cast here is solid, the standouts remain Bogart and March – the seasoned pros whose longevity in a life before the cameras is plainly on display. Each carries off their role with a faux effortlessness that, of course, was well-rehearsed and even more finite in its subtlest nuances and calculated timing. It’s called ‘being a star’ and it cannot be manufactured in any credible way. Bogie and March are the real deals. Fifties fav, Gig Young is somewhat sidelined as the male ingenue. He does his work, but it’s never distinguished.

The Desperate Hours arrives on Blu-ray via Arrow in a transfer advertised as a 6K scan off an original VistaVision negative. Aside: I am sort’a done with such ‘clever’ marketing. 4K is currently the standard, and 6K of a B&W movie, even one shot in VistaVision, just seems like overkill – especially since this isn’t a 4K release, but a standard 1080p Blu-ray. So, scan in at 120K if you like. The results in 1080p will be similar, if not exact. How does it look? In a word – miraculous, with caveats. While 99% of the image truly lives up to VistaVision’s original claim of ‘motion picture hi-fidelity’ there are a handful of shots scattered throughout that are soft, and some minor built-in flicker. This ought to have been corrected before slapping everything to disc. Otherwise, prepare to be impressed.

Less so with the LPCM 1.0 audio. Honestly, couldn’t Arrow have split the mono across 2.0 DTS? Dialogue is clean. But Gail Kubik’s score sounds tinny. Extras are a mixed bag too. Daniel Kremer’s audio commentary is a slapdash affair. He just blurts out factoid nuggets without actually formulating his thoughts into a coherent running track. Disappointing! Superior in every way: Trouble in Suburbia – a nearly 40-min. retrospective by Prof. José Arroyo. Historian, Eloise Ross offers a puff piece on Bogart. But how does one assess a career as varied as Bogart’s in less than 15-mins.? Hardly comprehensive! Finally, at just a little over 10-mins. Catherine Wyler – Willie’s daughter – waxes affectionately about this movie, her father, and his entire career. Were that Arrow had spent more time with Cate. There is a lot to talk about with her famous father. This doesn’t even scratch the surface. Finally, Arrow has digitized some promo art, provided us with a theatrical trailer, and included a glossy – but forgettable, booklet with essays by Philip Kemp and Neil Sinyard. Bottom line: The Desperate Hours has been overlooked as a Wyler classic for far too long. Is it on par with some of the director’s other, more celebrated pieces of film fiction? No. But it is exceptionally solid film-making, carried off with ‘the Wyler touch’ – the director’s inimitable charm to bring the human saga to the forefront. Arrow’s Blu is NOT perfect, but, like the film, it remains a very solid effort. Judge and buy accordingly.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

4

VIDEO/AUDIO

4

EXTRAS

3.5