MOVIE OF THE DAY: "VOICE OF THE WHISTLER" (1945)

Auto magnate John Sinclair is working himself to death. Friendless and without family, he suddenly proposes marriage to a nurse, Joan Martin. He wants to spend his remaining days with someone who cares, offering her "my entire fortune for a few months of your life." 

To Joan, who grew up poor, this sounds dandy -- until Sinclair gradually regains his health... and discovers that she's sick of living in a lonely lighthouse with a husband she loathes... and her former fiance comes by, rekindling old feelings... 

The fourth in Columbia's Whistler movies based on the popular radio series, Voice of the Whistler shows how loneliness affects the lives of its principal characters. By the end, it has killed two of them physically, and one psychologically. Try pitching an idea like that at one of the major studios today, see where it gets you.

Voice of the Whistler appears to rise above its B-movie status by opening with a newsreel straight out of Citizen Kane. From that point on, however, it's onto the slightly shabby Columbia soundstages, starkly furnished and with as few knickknacks as possible in order to save some dough. 

The sense of cheapness even affects the dialogue. When John Sinclair initially decides he needs a vacation, he books passage on a steamer to Duluth. Duluth?! Dude, you're a multi-millionaire! At least try Block Island. 

Sinclair is taken under Sparrow's wing.

Nobody in Voice of the Whistler is who they appear to be.  Sinclair initially passes himself off as an ordinary guy named John Carter. Ernie Sparrow, who cares for Sinclair when the latter collapses on the street, was once a great boxer in the UK, but found true happiness as a cabdriver in Detroit. (Yes, this is fictional.) Joan Martin seems like the nicest nurse in town, until her grasping, greedy side comes to the fore. Her ex-fiance Fred, a friendly doctor, decides, literally overnight, to murder Sinclair. You'll never look at your neighbor the same way again.

"Pay no attention to the fiance behind
the window!"

Nurse Joan in particular is a real piece of work. Breaking the news to Fred that she's marrying Sinclair, she barks, "I've given you the chance to get ahead and you've failed!", adding for good measure, "You're soft!" After six months stuck with Sinclair, she spits at her now-healthy husband, "I've kept my part of the bargain. You haven't!" Joan might have taken the Nightingale Nursing Pledge, but she really needs to brush up on her interpersonal skills.

Living in a Maine lighthouse miles from
anyone else with a rich husband who
didn't die and a dumbass boxer who smells
like seafood -- what's not to love?

But all bets are off when Fred visits them at their Maine lighthouse, where Ernie Sparrow also lives because... well, it's not clear what he's doing there, other than having accepted Sinclair's invitation. If I thought I had six months to live with a pretty wife, having a washed-up Cockney pugilist hang around cracking wise would be the last thing I'd want around me 24/7. 

No fool he, Sinclair immediately figures out that Fred has come for more than fried clams and a can of New England Ale. In one of the sickest moments of any of the Whistler movies, Sinclair manipulates Fred into murdering him, only to turn the tables at the very last minute. And Ernie doing the same to him. And Joan doing the same to them.

As with the best of the entries in the series, Voice of the Whistler creates an uneasy tone right from the beginning, gradually amping things up until its startlingly strange finale. You leave the Whistler movies as if awakening from a particularly troubling dream that you can't immediately shake off, somewhat like being married to me.


Of course, none of the Whistler movies would be half as good without Richard Dix, the Bogart of the B's, as their perennially doomed "hero." Dix plays Sinclair with a stark reality and empathy that appears shockingly personal.

When we first meet him, Sinclair is a walking corpse, rich in money and celebrity, but devoid of any life. Regaining his health, he appears to be the happiest, heartiest person on earth. By the end, the now-insanely jealous Sinclair transforms into a stone-cold killer. In each phase, Dix is totally convincing.

Don't mess with Dix.

Once a leading man in silents and early talkies, Richard Dix saw his fortunes wane over time. Alcoholism, too, had by now taken its toll; in Voice of the Whistler, Dix can be heard occasionally slurring his dialogue, and not because he's tired. This unintended glimpse into the real man offers an emotional resonance lacking in many actors of his time or today's. 

Indeed, Richard Dix became an even better, more interesting actor as he drifted into B's and his health deteriorated. He seems to be willing his characters to life as he himself was dying. Watch Voice of the Whistler and picture any contemporary actor his age -- only 52, but looking much older -- doing the same job. It isn't a coincidence that when he could no longer work, Columbia shot only one Whistler movie without him before ending the series. Richard Dix was irreplaceable.

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(Click on the Richard Dix label below for more of his movies.)

BREAKING NEWS: 7/29/16

Temperatures have soared so high in the upstate village of Throop, NY that horse manure in a barn burst into flames.

Throop resident Chester Hooten told reporters, "This actually takes all the fun out of setting it on fire ourselves."

Hillary Clinton became the first woman nominated for president by a major American political party. She told the cheering delegates, "When any barrier falls in America, for anyone, it clears the way for everyone."

"And that's been proven in this race itself," she pointed out. "For the first time in our history, more Americans would rather stick their head in a pile of exploding horseshit than vote for either of the major candidates!"

In related news, Bill Clinton appeared to have fallen asleep during Hillary's acceptance speech.

He later denied the accusation, saying, "I never sleep anywhere near my wife!"

Donald Trump has been cleared by the White House to receive intelligence briefings.

It was initially considered redundant, since Trump's intelligence is already pretty brief.

Creationist Ken Hamm, the builder of the Noah's Ark theme park in Kentucky, has said prospective employees must sign a statement of faith disavowing premarital sex.

Ironically, anybody working there would have to be completely fucked.




The parents of Humayan Khanan, an American Muslim soldier killed in action in Iraq, spoke at the Democratic convention last night. In response, columnist Ann Coulter mocked them by tweeting, "You know what this convention really needed? An angry Muslim with a thick accent."

Coulter was immediately rushed to George Washington University Hospital for a heart and soul transplant.


Former reality TV star Paris Hilton, now working as a DJ in Ibiza, says she's

afraid because she's "a famous person who could be a target" for ISIS terrorists.

A quick poll found 100% of respondents saying, "If only."


                                              





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PARDON MY HACK

Holy Gucifer, Batman! People sure are steamed about Vladimir Putin's alleged hacking of the DNC emails. How dare Russia try to get involved with America's presidential elections... without a formal invitation. Better to do it the way Ted Kennedy tried in 1983, by asking the then-Soviet Union to help defeat President Reagan's re-election. 

But don't get the wrong idea. Ted planned on asking France and Britain for their help, too, 'cause they're our allies. Lafayette, we are here... to get you to help us get rid of our president. 

I know what you're saying -- that's history. History is boring. How boring? This boring:

• 1946-1949: U.S. takes the side of neo-fascists against anti-Nazi rebels in Greece.
• 1949: U.S. overthrows democratically-elected Syrian government in favor of dictatorship.
• 1953: U.S. overthrows democratically-elected Iranian government in favor of dictatorship.
• 1953-1964: U.S. and UK instigate strikes, disinformation and terrorism in order to prevent democratically-elected leader from taking power in Guyana. It proves unsuccessful. (Try harder!)
• 1961: U.S. helps to install military dictatorship in Greece, overthrowing its democratically-elected government.
• 1961-1963: U.S overthrows democratically-elected government of Ecuador in favor of military junta.
• 1964: U.S. helps right-wing rebels overthrow democratically-elected government of Brazil.
• 1964: U.S. sabotages democratically-elected Chilean President Salvador Allende.
• 1970: U.S. tries to replace democratically-elected Italian government with a military dictatorship. It proves unsuccessful. (Oh, man!)
• 1970: U.S. tries to sabotage Salvador Allende's re-election. When that doesn't work, it tries to assassinate him. It proves unsuccessful. (Get your act together!) 
• 1973: U.S. encourages military coup of Pres. Salvador Allende. It works. (Finally!)

And that doesn't take into account U.S. involvement in Israel's presidential elections, or President Obama's not-so-subtle threat against the UK over the Brexit vote. (Following in the footsteps of Truman, Eisenhower, Nixon, and the Kennedy brothers, it was unsuccessful.)

One piece of good news, however: farmers in the Washington, DC area are expecting a bumper egg crop now that the chickens have come home to roost.

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BREAKING NEWS 7/27/16

In the 20,000 hacked DNC emails, many of the staffers under Debbie Wasserman-Schultz make fun of African-American names, use homophobic slurs, and suggested using Bernie Sanders' religion against him in the campaign.

DNC spokesman Brad Lanes vowed to get to the bottom of the scandal, adding that "No faggot, hebe or colored is immune."

Researchers in Belgium have created a device that uses solar energy to turn urine into drinkable water, which can then be used to brew beer. 

Researchers in America, however, already refer to that process as "Making Budweiser."

Lindsay Lohan claims that her fiancee, Russian billionaire Egor Tarabasov, needs psychological help.

When asked why, a spokesman said, "Because he wants to marry Lindsay Lohan."

Donald Trump's spiritual adviser, Paula White, is selling "resurrection seeds" for $1,444 each. White claims that the seeds, which she says were sent to her by God, prevent the owners from dying.

Notified of the product, Trump said, "Why didn't I think of that?"


In what appeared to be an attempt to unite delegates of Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton, Paul Simon sang "Bridge Over Troubled Water" at the Democratic convention.

Attendees said it worked, with all agreeing that Simon sounded like shit, looked like death warmed over, and that Garfunkel did it better the first time around.

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ME NO LIKEE

If there wasn't enough dividing the Clinton and Trump supporters already, Facebook's recent analysis of their pop-culture "likes" makes it appear they're not only not on the same page politically, they're not even living in the same country. The only thing they share is their brain-melting predictability.

Take pop music. Of the five acts listed, Hillary has named four of them as her favorites, leading me to speculate that she took a poll first. Note the neighboring states voting for the Beatles, who cut their first record 54 years ago. Imagine LBJ fans in 1964 naming The Peerless Quartet as their favorite band, and you'll understand why millennials are sick of baby boomers.


The overwhelming majority of Trump fans, on the other hand, rock out to right-wing lunatic Ted Nugent, whose last hit single charted during the Carter presidency. Not surprisingly, most of the other performers are country singers, while rapper Eminem is the favorite of most of the Northeast. (Angry white guy -- who'd have thought?) What makes these two diagrams identical, however, is that they're so goddamn boring. Has no one heard of Steve Gunn, Lizz Wright, John Grant, Nicole Atkins, Elbow, Jessie Kilguss, Noisettes, Marissa Nadler, Richard Hawley, Nick Lowe... Get with it, people! There's life outside of Top Fucking 40! 

So it's kind of a relief to see that when it comes to actors, the Clinton crowd, instead of going for, say, George Clooney, are almost 100% for George Takei. Their love is not necessarily for his role as Sulu on Star Trek or voice-over work on Bubble Guppies, but instead his witty, elegant public persona. (He's the Noel Coward of gay Asian males.) Second place Jada Pinkett Smith is best known for throwing a hissy fit when her husband, Will Smith, didn't get an Oscar nomination last year for a performance nobody liked in a movie that flopped. 

Trump fans, however, love them some Adam Sandler, whose reception from critics and fans alike has gone from appreciated to abhorred. Coming in a close second is John Wayne, who hasn't twirled a gun since 1979. Don't these people have movie theatres or cable? Rounding up the list with a lowly two states is born-again evangelical Kirk Cameron, who, until Scott Baio's recent appearance at the GOP convention, was everyone's favorite washed-up child star punchline. 

When it comes to movies, there's something wonderfully ironic about Hillary supporters voting overwhelmingly for Harry Potter, whose lead character practices witchcraft and rides around on a broomstick. Don't tell me they don't have a sense of humor! 

To my surprise, only three states in Trump world went for American Sniper. I thought they were big on guns. However, if Hillary wins, their top choice, God's Not Dead, will suddenly ring woefully hollow. On the other hand, if Trump wins, the Dems will be shouting the third Repub choice, Jackass, while suffering from the second, The Hangover. One way or another, their respective aftereffects will be fun to watch.

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MOVIE OF THE DAY: "ANOTHER NICE MESS" (1972)

When The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour was cancelled after two and half contentious seasons, Tommy Smothers was convinced that Pres. Richard Nixon had a hand in its demise. Three years later, he tried to exact revenge by producing Another Nice Mess. It's a mess, I'll grant you that.

So obscure that most people weren't even aware of its existence at the time, Another Nice Mess is for people who ever wondered what President Nixon and Vice-President Spiro Agnew would have been like if they talked and behaved Laurel & Hardy. Are you on the bandwagon?

Character actor Herb Voland is Agnew/Laurel, while legendary impressionist Rich Little is Nixon/Hardy. It's an interesting idea; Voland and Little impersonate the comedians quite well, perhaps better than anyone else ever has. 

If you loved Way Out West, you may tolerate
Another Nice Mess. But it's unlikely.

Unfortunately, they haven't been giving a script or a budget worth their talent. Writer/director Bob Einstein is certainly familiar with Laurel & Hardy -- their classic dance from Way Out West, for instance, is replicated here. But Laurel & Hardy made everything appear effortless. Voland & Little, having not worked together before nor being physical comedians, look like they're, well, trying their best. 

I don't remember what's supposed to be
happening here, but it doesn't matter.

Further muddying things, Einstein adds sound effects and trick camera work more appropriate for The Three Stooges, as if realizing his target audience -- stoners, Nixon haters, and stoner Nixon haters -- wouldn't have the patience to sit through a deliberately-paced Laurel & Hardyesque movie. Never play to the stoners.

No performer given, and for good reason.

Too, one misses the infectious music that LeRoy Shields and Marvin Hatley composed for the Hal Roach pictures. While L&H's "Ku-Ku" theme appears from time to time in Another Nice Mess, a pop song titled "I Am the President" is performed ad nauseum by someone trying to sound like Arlo Guthrie. 

Old Hitler wishes he died back at the bunker, as does
the audience.

Oh, by the way, there's a plot, of sorts. An elderly Adolf Hitler is living secretly in the White House, trying to take over the presidency with the help of a sexy intern. That's comedy, folks.

Einstein tries to jazz things up (or pad things out) with clips of the real Laurel & Hardy "watching" the events onscreen; there's also genuine news footage of Nixon campaigning. Taking it one meta-step further, Rich Little occasionally appears as the "real" Pres. Nixon commenting on Another Nice Mess in the White House screening room. His vocal and physical resemblance are eerily spot-on; Einstein should have written a one-man stage show for Little as Nixon, and saved Tommy Smothers some money.

Nixon's shave is interrupted by a 
plumber's snake from Agnew's
bathroom. Just as funny as it sounds.

As bad as it is, Another Nice Mess could have been a lot worse. Entire scenes seem to have been left on the cutting room floor, accounting for its incredibly short 65-minute running time. What remains -- like "zany" running gags featuring Secret Service agents disguised as houseplants -- has been edited with the skill of a logger with a bad case of the shakes. So much for getting even with Tricky Dickie.

Steve Martin, far right, watches his movie
career almost end before it begins.

Bob Einstein was one of the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour's writers/supporting players, as was Steve Martin, who makes his movie debut here as a hippie inadvertently launching a brick-throwing fight with Nixon, Agnew and a bunch of innocent bystanders. I don't recall seeing this clip during the American Film Institute's tribute to Steve a while back. 

Steve Martin and Bob Einstein pretend they
had nothing to do with Another Nice Mess.

Dick & Spiro as Stan & Ollie could have worked as a recurring seven-minute sketch on the Smothers Brothers show. But as a movie, Another Nice Mess hangs together like a fallen clothesline. Tommy Smothers himself admitted it was "terrible", allowing it to fall into public domain; prints are as faded as a forgotten 1940s Cinecolor b-movie.

Just for fun, if you ever run into Steve Martin, tell him your favorite movie is Another Nice Mess. His reaction will probably be more entertaining than anything in the movie.

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THE KINSEY REPORT

Some news stories are so sad that they're funny. And as with a good Laurel & Hardy gag, you laugh even as you know exactly what's going to happen.

Get out your SPF 70 bullet-proof vest.

Charles Kinsey, a social worker in Miami, was just doing his job, watching over his autistic client. The unnamed client decided it was time to sit in the middle of the street and play with his toy truck.

Let's stop right there. If this happened in mid-town Manhattan -- which it wouldn't because there's too much traffic, but let's say it did -- the first thing people would do is point their cellphones at the guys. There wouldn't be any need to call the authorities, since mid-town is already jumping with cops, some packing serious, post-9/11 heat. 

But the good residents of Miami, being more likely to get hit by the zika virus than either people playing in the middle of the road or terrorists, aren't used to events like this. So instead, an eagle-eyed do-gooder reported that someone was trying to kill himself, presumably with a toy truck. 

Sizing up a psychologically-challenged person with a knickknack and a black guy armed only with his arms, the cops immediately took cover behind telephone poles, and ordered the two men to lie down and put their hands up. 

For God's sake, somebody take out those desperadoes!

Charles Kinsey was in a jam. First, he had to take the cops seriously. (Did I mention his skin color?)  However, he also takes his job seriously. 

Let's let the news site tell the rest of the story:

As Kinsey was pleading with the man to get down on the ground and raise his hands, one of the officers fired a shot that hit Kinsey in his left leg.

In an interview with NBC Miami, Kinsey’s attorney Hilton Napoleon said that the officer who shot Kinsey admitted that he had no idea why he fired his weapon.

“My client asked why did you shoot me? The officer told my client, ‘I don’t know,’ that was his words verbatim,” he said. “Another officer asked, ‘Why did you shoot this guy?’ and the shooting officer said he didn’t know why he shot him.”

Whew. Thank God. For a moment, I thought that Miami cops were trained to stop suicides by shooting them first. 

But back to the cop's explanation: I don't know why I shot him. Let me give you three tries, Officer Skippy. 

1. What's the opposite of armed?
2. What's the opposite of white?
3. What's the opposite of woman?

Whenever a cop is involved in a case like this, many on the right immediately do a Google search to find if the victim had a rap sheet -- as if that's excuse enough to fire away. Many on the left immediately start shutting down traffic in cities around the country. Never the twain shall meet.

Here, then is a clear-cut case where both sides can stand together and say This is not right. But as of this writing, I hear of no planned protests from the left; no sense of outrage or at least sorrow on the right. The former is too busy throwing urine at members of the Westboro Baptist Church in Cleveland, while the latter is calling for Hillary Clinton's death either by firing squad or the noose. 

Protesters throwing piss in public, and politicos feeling no compunction about calling for a candidate's death: Welcome to the United States, 2016. And with the popularity numbers of Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump at record-breaking lows, things will only get worse no matter who's elected. Here's another nice mess we've gotten ourselves into!

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GRIN AND BEAR IT

It's tempting to say "Now I've seen everything," but after learning about people who dress up as dogs or cats for kicks, I know that would be a fool's errand. For all you youngsters out there, here are... the Plushies!:

Plushies are people who are either emotionally attached to or sexually intimate with their stuffed animals.The frisky fetish,known as plushophilia, has seen people modify their toys for sexual purposes,sometimes with vibrators zipped inside.

"Come on, baby, you know you
want it."

As a child, I loved my stuffed Bosco Bear. Loved him so much that I slept with him on a nightly basis for a year or so. But I did not have sexual relations with that teddy bear, Mr. Bosco.

As a result, some would call me a plushophobe. In fact, because of Bosco's sexual identity, I might even be considered a homophobic plushophobe. Therefore, the thinking would undoubtedly go, I am, in actuality, a repressed homoplushiesexual. To quote my late mother, I cannot win.

Because of my paternalistic sexism -- not to mention the aforementioned use of vibrators -- I figured that plushophilia was strictly a woman-centric thing. But I need to beg forgiveness for my ignorance, since there are plenty of men who are in a committed, loving relationship with their stuffed animals. 

One male plushie describes it as "funner" than sex with a human, perhaps because you don't have to buy them dinner first. If nothing else, the animals don't care if you lack the grammatical skills of a third-grader.

Which do you find more strange:
a woman having sex with her
teddy bear, or a teddy bear who's
turned-on by tattoos?

Another male advises newcomers to “add a zipper, a good 10 inches”. Sorry, guy, if you feel the need to give an exact length, you're hiding something.

Just so we have our facts straight, plushophobes should not be confused with furries, who have sex while dressed as stuffed animals. Once again proving my societal-caused repression, I've always had sex naked (much to the distaste of many women). 

It's now up to scientists to discover whether plushies are born that way or made a choice. Until we find out, we at least know that you don't have to be married to a Kardashian to have sex with over-stuffed animals. 

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BREAKING NEWS: 7/19/16

Republicans were forced to replace signs reading WHITE ELEVATORS at Cleveland's Quicken Loans Arena, the site of the GOP convention.

GOP spokesman Brad Lanes was quick to deny any hint of segregation, telling reporters, "Black delegates are free to take the service elevator of their choice."

In other GOP news, Melania Trump's speech last night plagiarized passages from the one delivered by Michelle Obama at the 2008 Democratic convention.

An aid for Mrs. Trump denied the charges, adding that "Melania and her staff had been working hard on writing a rousing original speech since four score and seven weeks ago."

Mick Jagger, 73, is expecting his eighth child with American ballerina Melanie Hamrick, 29.

Scientists at Oxford quickly announced they were ending their attempts to clone dinosaurs, describing it as "redundant."

In related news, Ronnie Wood, 69, has become the father of twins with his 38 year-old wife.

Asked to comment, bandmate Mick Jagger said, "That's disgusting. I've never had sex with a senior citizen, and neither should Ronnie."

Joshua Lee Long of Penn Township, PA, was arrested for keeping a stolen human brain in a jar. Long admitted to police that he used the embalming fluid inside the jar to soak his marijuana. 

Lee told authorities that he wanted to have at least one brain put to good use.






Los Angeles police are investigating former Playboy playmate Dani Mathers for taking a "bodyshaming" photo of an older woman showering at an L.A. Fitness gym, and posting it on Snapchat.

Meanwhile, police in Penn Township, PA, have asked Mathers to retrieve her brain from Joshua Lee Long's jar.




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MOVIE OF THE DAY: "BLONDE ICE" (1948)

Memo to idiots of the male sex: If your bride is making out with her ex-boyfriend a minute after you've exchanged "I do's", don't continue to Niagara like nothing happened. Otherwise, you'll wind up dead in your living room clutching a gun that's been wiped clean of prints and no powder burns on your hands. Thank Blonde Ice for that bit of advice.

"Darling! I was only whispering into
his mouth!"

Claire Cummings has barely gotten through the honeymoon phase of her honeymoon when her husband, Carl Hanneman, discovers her writing a love letter to her ex, newspaper reporter Les Burns. Faster than you can say "No-good dame," Carl returns to their home in San Francisco with the letter in his pocket and divorce on his mind.

If Les was smart, he'd drive straight into
a brick wall.

Eager to collect an inheritance, Claire pays a pilot $500 to fly her to Frisco on the qt, where she knocks off Carl and returns to the honeymoon bungalow in one night. When Claire later returns to Frisco for good, she sweet-talks Les Burns into picking her up at the airport with the ol' my-husband's-gone-to-work-in-New-York routine. 

They're greeted at home by hubby's corpse on the floor. In short order, the police suspect foul play, and zero in on Les at the culprit. He loved her, right? And hated Carl for marrying her, right? And Claire was 400 miles away the night of the murder, right? 

Al and Les exchange the fine art of the
stink-eye.

Just to make things more interesting, the oily Al Herrick, a newspaper colleague of Les', latches onto the same angle -- mainly because he was Claire's boyfriend back in the day, too. It's harder to figure out who has the worst taste in lovers, Claire or the blockheads who fall for her. (The only other things all her boyfriends have in common are thin mustaches and baritone voices brought about by a couple dozen Pall Malls a day.) James Griffith plays Al like a cross between Franklin Pangborn and Clifton Webb, only hetero, which is just as bizarre as it sounds.

Every 40s drama needed one scene
where one person looked away
from the other during a
conversation

Claire eventually racks up two more victims -- the pilot who flew her to Frisco to kill her husband, and her new fiancee, Congressman-elect Stanley Mason (which must make Blonde Ice the only bad-girl noir featuring an assassination). And in a thoughtful gesture, she tries to pin the latter on Les Burns. Only through the machinations of psychiatrist Dr. Kippinger does Claire finally break down and confess -- leading to yet another, climactic killing. Her trigger finger must have callouses.

For its meager pedigree, Blonde Ice is rich in b-movie dialogue, tossed about like a time-bomb with a short fuse. When Les discovers that Claire is engaged to Stan, he snorts, "Claire Cummings Hanneman Mason. If this keeps up, you won't be able to get your

Make that two scenes.

initials on your silverware!" 

And a moment later, he gets another classic line when she tries wrapping him around her deadly little finger: "You're like a poison. Take a little bit and you're finished. But too much becomes an antidote." I hear ya, brother, I hear ya.

Only the shrink seems to be concerned that Claire
is making ready with the revolver. Maybe that's why
he's a shrink.

If Claire's character were a man, he'd be immediately pinned as a creepy villain whose sorry end can't come soon enough. However, as played by Leslie Brooks, she exudes a sick sexiness that make men deaf, blind, and stupid -- proof that women have it easier than men.

What was it about janes like these that made movies like Blonde Ice so popular? For male ticket-buyers, it was a safe way to witness revenge on every dame that did them dirt. For women, they got to live vicariously through a totally uninhibited character, while enjoying the anti-heroine's punishment as a salve to their own guilt.

But maybe Al Herrick puts it best: "I know that Claire Cummings is a nut if I ever saw one." Yeah, but you slept with her, pal.

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