MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #109 No Way to Treat a Lady & Man on a Swing

NO WAY TO TREAT A LADY 1968

No Way to Treat a Lady (1968), directed by Jack Smight and adapted by John Gay from William Goldman’s (Magic 1978, and Marathon Man 1976) novel, is a darkly comic thriller that pirouettes between suspense, satire, and psychological drama. Set in a bustling, neurotic New York, the film follows the twisted exploits of Christopher Gill (Rod Steiger), a flamboyant Broadway theater director whose obsession with his late, domineering mother manifests in a string of strangulations targeting lonely, middle-aged women. Each murder is a grotesque performance: Gill dons elaborate disguises—a kindly Irish priest, a German plumber, a flamboyant hairdresser, even a police officer—slipping into his victims’ lives with theatrical ease before snuffing them out and leaving his signature, a garish red lipstick kiss painted on their foreheads. With Gill’s fixation on his mother, there’s a twisted, almost ceremonial nature of his killings.

The women who fall prey to Christopher Gill’s murderous masquerade in No Way to Treat a Lady are more than mere plot devices; they are brought to life by a remarkable ensemble of character actresses, each with a legacy of indelible performances. Martine Bartlett, who plays Alma Mulloy—the film’s first, and perhaps most haunting, victim was a consummate actress of stage and screen. Known for her chilling turn as Hattie Dorsett, the monstrous mother in the Emmy-winning miniseries Sybil, and her roles in Splendor in the Grass and I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, Bartlett imbued Alma with a fragile dignity, making her demise both tragic and unforgettable.

Joining her is Barbara Baxley as Belle Poppie, a performer celebrated for her Broadway prowess and her Oscar-nominated role in Nashville. Baxley’s Belle is a blend of vulnerability and wit, a woman whose warmth is no match for Gill’s deadly charm.

One of Christopher Gill’s ruses is to pose as a flamboyant hairdresser delivering a “prize” wig to his intended victim. Gill uses various disguises to gain access to his victims’ homes, and for Belle Poppie, he arrives as “Dorian Smith,” an flaming hairdresser, carrying hat boxes filled with wigs. He claims she has won a wig in a contest after signing a coupon at the drugstore, and insists on fitting it for her personally.

Irene Dailey, another victim, was a Tony Award-winning actress with a formidable presence, remembered for her work in The Subject Was Roses and a long-running role on Another World. Doris Roberts—who would later become a household name as the sharp-tongued matriarch on Everybody Loves Raymond—plays Sylvia Poppie, infusing her brief screen time with the kind of earthy humor and pathos that became her trademark.

Ruth White, as Mrs. Himmel, was a character actress of rare depth, acclaimed for roles in To Kill a Mockingbird and Midnight Cowboy. Each of these women, in their own way, brings a lifetime of experience to their fleeting roles, elevating the film’s gallery of victims into a parade of New York archetypes: the lonely widow, the chatty neighbor, the faded beauty, the tough survivor.

Collectively, they are the “unsinkable dames” of the city—women who have weathered heartbreak, disappointment, and the daily grind, only to be undone by a killer who preys on their hope for connection. In Gill’s twisted theater, they become tragic heroines, their lives snuffed out with a flourish and a lipstick kiss.

No Way to Treat a Lady also co-stars Murray Hamilton, who seemed to be everywhere in American cinema from the late 1950s through the 1970s, turning up in standout roles from 1959’s Anatomy of a Murder to 1975’s Jaws. Whether as the bartender Al Paquette in Anatomy of a Murder, the wealthy gambler Findley in The Hustler (1961), the cuckolded Mr. Robinson in The Graduate (1967), or the famously obstinate Mayor Vaughn in Jaws, Hamilton became one of Hollywood’s most recognizable and versatile character actors of the era.

The opening scene sets the tone: Gill, disguised as Father McDowall, charms his way into the home of Alma Mulloy (Martine Bartlett), a lonely Irish widow. Their conversation is laced with gentle humor and pathos—she offers him port, he compliments her vocabulary—before the mood shifts. In a chilling, almost playful moment, he tickles her into laughter, then abruptly strangles her, whispering, “So, now, Mama, you rest in peace.” The ritual is completed with the lipstick mark, a fetishistic flourish that fuses matricidal rage with theatrical ritual.

Parallel to Gill’s spree is the story of Detective Morris Brummel (George Segal), a harried, underappreciated cop living with his own overbearing Jewish mother (Eileen Heckart). Brummel’s home life is a comic counterpoint to the film’s violence: his mother nags him relentlessly about his career, his appearance, and his failure to live up to his successful brother. “What do I get from you… but heartbreak,” she sighs, encapsulating the film’s theme of maternal suffocation. Their dynamic is both exasperating and oddly endearing, providing a wry, Jewish twist on the Oedipal anxieties that drive both hero and villain.

The cat-and-mouse game between Brummel and Gill is laced with black humor and psychological gamesmanship. Gill, intoxicated by his own cleverness and craving recognition, begins taunting Brummel with phone calls, adopting new personas with each conversation. Steiger even offers a boisterous full-throated imitation of W.C. Fields—a film role he played later.

“Yeah, well, this is Hans Schultz, at least I was Hans Schultz all day today, but a week ago last, I was Father Kevin McDowall,” he boasts, relishing his own theatricality.

Brummel, meanwhile, is both repelled and fascinated by his adversary, and their exchanges develop a strange intimacy, bordering on the homoerotic—a dance of mutual recognition between two men shaped, and warped, by their mothers.

As the investigation unfolds, Brummel finds an unlikely ally and romantic interest in Kate Palmer (Lee Remick), a sharp-witted tour guide who glimpsed Gill after one of his murders. Their budding relationship is a screwball romance set against the backdrop of murder and neurosis, with Remick’s sexually assertive Kate upending traditional gender roles and winning over Brummel’s mother with her own brand of chutzpah. The film’s humor is sly and subversive, poking fun at ethnic stereotypes, the rituals of dating, and the absurdities of police work.

Visually, No Way to Treat a Lady is as nimble and inventive as its killer. Cinematographer Jack Priestley uses the city as a stage, framing Gill’s murders as grotesque set pieces and contrasting the drabness of Brummel’s home life with the lurid theatricality of Gill’s world. The production design is rich with theatrical motifs—Gill’s apartment is adorned with a looming portrait of his mother, her painted lips echoing the marks he leaves on his victims, a constant reminder of the film’s central psychosis and fetish.

The soundtrack by Stanley Myers adds a layer of irony, with fluttering soprano voices lending an almost ecclesiastical air to scenes of violence, heightening the film’s sense of macabre play.

Rod Steiger’s performance is a tour de force of controlled mania, shifting accents and personas with glee, his eyes always glinting with a mix of self-loathing and bravado. Each victim is dispatched in a scenario that blends dark comedy and genuine menace: a German-accented plumber shares strudel and nostalgia before turning lethal; a flamboyant hairdresser flatters and then strangles; a police officer gains entry under the guise of safety, only to deliver death. Steiger’s Gill is both monstrous and pitiable, trapped in a cycle of reenacting his mother’s domination and seeking release through murder. Finally, Gill lures Kate near the end of No Way to Treat a Lady by disguising himself as a caterer and gaining access to her apartment under this false pretense, allowing him to get close enough to attempt his ultimate murder before being interrupted and forced to flee.

The film’s climax is a bravura set piece of psychological confrontation. Brummel, having lured Gill into a trap by faking a sixth murder victim, confronts him in his theater.

Morris, with the help of the police and the press, fabricates a story about a sixth victim—a woman supposedly murdered in the same manner as Gill’s previous victims, complete with the signature lipstick mark. The body is actually a suicide from the East River, but the police stage it as another “Strangler” murder and leak the story to the newspapers. Gill, reading about this sixth victim, is thrown off and confused, since he knows he didn’t commit this murder.

To investigate, Gill calls Morris, trying to suggest the murder was the work of a copycat, and in the process, Morris is able to elicit more information about Gill’s identity. The ruse successfully agitates Gill and draws him out, ultimately leading to his attempt on Kate Palmer and the final confrontation at the theater.

Surrounded by the trappings of performance and the ever-present portrait of his mother, Gill’s façade crumbles. In a final, desperate attack, he is fatally shot by Brummel, and as he dies, he imagines his victims in the audience, begging for forgiveness, a final, tragic performance in a life defined by the need for approval.

No Way to Treat a Lady is more than a murder mystery; it’s a mordant meditation on identity, performance, and the wounds inflicted by love, especially a mother’s love. Its blend of suspense, cheeky black humor, and psychological insight makes it a singular entry in the late-1960s wave of American thrillers, as much a satire of the era’s anxieties as a showcase for Steiger’s virtuosity. The film’s enduring appeal lies in its ability to make us laugh, squirm, and reflect on the masks we wear—and the ones we inherit.

MAN ON A SWING 1974

Man on a Swing (1974), directed by Frank Perry, opens with a jolt of American banality turned sinister: a young woman’s corpse, eyes wide open, is discovered slumped in the passenger seat of a Volkswagen in a shopping center parking lot. Police Chief Lee Tucker (Cliff Robertson), a man of stoic resolve and quiet empathy, is called to the scene. The case is bleak—there are no leads, no apparent motive, only the lingering sense of something profoundly wrong beneath the surface of small-town life.

The investigation, at first, is a procedural march through grief: interviews with the victim’s family, flashbacks narrated in voiceover, and the ritualistic sharing of crime scene slides over beers with a local reporter.

Tucker’s home life, with his pregnant wife Janet (Dorothy Tristan), is rendered with a vulnerability that will soon be exploited by forces he cannot comprehend. The film’s palette is washed in the muted grays and browns of 1970s realism, Adam Holender’s (The Panic in Needle Park 1971, The Seduction of Joe Tynan 1979, Sea of Love 1989)  cinematography capturing both the claustrophobia of the town and the emotional isolation of its inhabitants.

Joel Grey’s iconic style is defined by his chameleon-like theatricality, elegance, and a sly, enigmatic presence, qualities that he distilled to perfection in his legendary role as the Master of Ceremonies in Cabaret. In both the 1966 Broadway production and Bob Fosse’s 1972 film adaptation, Grey’s Emcee was equal parts sinister and seductive, a gleeful provocateur whose rouged cheeks and tuxedoed form became a symbol of decadent spectacle masking societal collapse.

Beyond Cabaret, Grey’s most celebrated roles include George M. Cohan in George M! (1968), Amos Hart in the Broadway revival of Chicago (1996), the Wizard of Oz in the original cast of Wicked (2003), and Moonface Martin in Anything Goes (2011).

His career is a testament to versatility and artistry. For Cabaret, he earned both a Tony and an Oscar, making him one of the rare performers to win both for the same role.

Into this landscape of sorrow and suspicion steps Franklin Wills (Joel Grey), a local factory worker who claims to possess psychic abilities. His first contact is a phone call—unsolicited, unnervingly precise. He knows details about the murder that have never been released: the presence of a tampon beside the body. There is also a pair of the victim’s prescription glasses found in the car, another detail not released to the press.

Wills references the glasses in his initial phone call to Tucker, further establishing his supposed psychic connection to the crime scene. The specificity of the glasses (in the real-life case, it was for just one eye) is another clue that blurs the line between psychic knowledge and direct involvement.

When Wills is summoned to the station, he arrives in a crisp suit and white shoes, his demeanor a curious blend of boyish innocence and theatrical poise. Grey’s performance is a study in ambiguity—he moves like a dancer, his voice flitting from gentle to menacing, his eyes flickering with secrets. He is truly an odd figure.

The heart of the film is the cat-and-mouse dynamic between Tucker and Wills. Tucker, the embodiment of rational authority, is both fascinated and repelled by Wills, whose psychic “visions” seem to yield results the police cannot match. Is Wills truly gifted, or is he a fraud—or worse, the killer himself? The film toys with these possibilities, never quite tipping its hand. In one bravura sequence, Tucker takes Wills to retrace the victim’s final steps. Wills, dressed in immaculate white, slips into a trance, at times embodying the victim, at times the murderer, even attempting to strangle Tucker in a moment of eerie possession. The scene is shot with a telephoto lens, creating a sense of voyeuristic distance, as if we are watching a ritual unfold from the shadows.

Frank Perry’s direction is sly and unsettling, pulling the rug out from under us just as the investigation seems to settle into familiar rhythms.

Perry was a humanist filmmaker whose style was defined by a deep interest in the psychological complexity and vulnerability of his characters. Rather than focusing on technical bravura or elaborate visual flourishes, Perry prioritized the inner lives of his protagonists, often exploring themes he once described as being about humanism, with that which celebrates what is to be human: vulnerability, fallibility, fragility, His films are marked by a kind of technical brevity—camera movement, set design, and lighting are always in service of character and story, not spectacle. What I find most strikingly intimate and compelling in Perry’s work is his ability to render emotional vulnerability with such authenticity that it feels both universal and deeply personal.

His career began with the acclaimed David and Lisa (1962), a sensitive portrait of two mentally ill teenagers that earned him an Academy Award nomination. He continued to explore complex, often troubled characters in films like The Swimmer (1968), a surreal adaptation of John Cheever’s story starring Burt Lancaster, and Diary of a Mad Housewife (1970), a darkly comic look at suburban malaise that earned Carrie Snodgress an Oscar nomination. Other notable works include Play It as It Lays (1972), the disturbing Last Summer (1969), and the infamous cult classic Mommie Dearest (1981). Perry’s work is typically defined by its understated intimacy and a deliberate rejection of spectacle, making the operatic, camp-laden excess of Mommie Dearest a striking and uncharacteristic departure that has become iconic precisely for its embrace of high drama and cultural camp, with its unflinching yet questionable portrait of Joan Crawford.

Perry’s films often blend European influences, such as the pacing and metaphorical style of Italian neorealism, with incisive commentary on American social and psychological realities. Whether working in drama, satire, or psychological thriller, his movies remain compelling for their empathy and their willingness to probe the darker corners of the human experience.

Man on a Swing’s tone shifts from procedural to psycho-sexual thriller to near horror, aided by Lalo Schifrin’s score, which weaves in discordant strings and ghostly motifs that heighten the sense of the uncanny. Sound design is used to jarring effect: a scream replaced by a shrill violin, a rainstorm that drowns out dialogue, silent phone calls that rattle the nerves.

Amid the fog of psychic visions and police frustration, suspicion briefly turns to Richie Tom Keating, a young man with a history of violence, previously arrested for attempting to rape a woman at knifepoint. Richie is the kind of suspect who embodies the raw, chaotic energy of youthful psychopathy: impulsive, remorseless, and eerily detached. In his brief interrogation with Chief Tucker, Richie’s demeanor is unsettlingly blank, his answers evasive, as if he’s both present and absent from the gravity of the crime. He admits to knowing Franklin Wills, but only in passing – “we hardly ever talked”—yet the film plants the chilling suggestion that Richie might have been manipulated, even hypnotized, by Wills to act as his surrogate in violence.

This ambiguous connection between the two men, one a self-proclaimed psychic, the other a volatile delinquent, becomes a psychological hall of mirrors. Is Richie merely a convenient scapegoat, or is he the unwitting vessel for Wills’ darker compulsions? The film hints at the possibility of complicity, of a charismatic manipulator pulling the strings of a susceptible mind. In this dynamic, Wills is the puppet master, enigmatic and inscrutable, while Richie is the raw material: a young man whose capacity for harm is matched only by his lack of self-awareness.
Though only glimpsed on screen, their relationship underscores Man on a Swing’s central anxiety, the porous boundary between psychic influence and personal responsibility, between the supernatural and the all-too-human capacity for evil. We’re suspended in uncertainty, haunted by the possibility that true horror lies not in the occult, but in the ordinary faces we fail to truly see.

As the investigation deepens, the boundaries between hunter and hunted blur. Wills insinuates himself into Tucker’s domestic life, unnerving Janet with unsolicited predictions about her pregnancy and the sex of her unborn child.

Man on a Swing flirts with themes of repression and intrusion, the psychic as both a threat to the nuclear family and a projection of Tucker’s own anxieties. The town itself becomes a stage for psychological gamesmanship, with Wills’ ambiguous sexuality and working-class aspirations adding further layers to his enigma.

The climax is a slow spiral into ambiguity. Tucker, desperate for answers, orchestrates a test of Wills’ abilities before a panel of psychiatrists, hoping to force a confession. Instead, Wills deflects, pitching himself as a media sensation and offering new visions that hint at further violence. The film’s denouement is chillingly unresolved: a new murder, eerily predicted by Wills, leaves Tucker and the audience wondering if evil has simply slipped the net, or if it was ever truly within reach.

Man on a Swing is less a whodunit than a meditation on uncertainty, the porous boundary between intuition and madness, and the dangers of seeking meaning in the inexplicable. Cliff Robertson’s grounded performance anchors the film’s reality, while Joel Grey’s Franklin Wills remains a spectral presence—part oracle, part trickster, part sociopath. The film’s sly black humor glimmers in its refusal to provide easy answers, leaving viewers suspended between faith and doubt, reason and the supernatural.

In the end, Perry’s film is a hypnotic puzzle box, a neo-noir séance where every revelation only deepens the mystery. It is a story of grief, obsession, and the seductive power of the unknown—a swing, like the one Wills drifts back and forth on playfully, that never quite stops moving.

#109 down, 41 to go! Your EverLovin’ Joey, formally & affectionately known as MonsterGirl!

Quote of the Day! The Hustler (1961) “You’re too hungry”

“A searching look into the innermost depths of a woman’s heart . . . and a man’s desires!”

The Hustler (1961)

Sarah to Eddie “You’re too hungry.”

Director/Screenwriter Robert Rossen wrote the screenplay for Marked Woman (1937), They Won’t Forget (1937), Dust Be My Destiny (1939), Out of the Fog (1941), Blues in the Night (1941), Edge of Darkness (1943), The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946), Johnny O’Clock (1947), Desert Fury (1947) and wrote the screenplay for Billy Budd. Rossen also wrote and directed All the Kings Men (1949), Mambo (1954), and The psycho-sexual Labyrinth set in a mental institution in the early 1960s starring Jean Seberg-Lilith (1964) perhaps Rossen’s most dark and nihilistic vision of the human spirit yet. He directed John Garfield and Lilli Palmer in Body and Soul (1947). Robert Rossen was a pool hustler himself as a youth. Based on the novel by Walter S. Tevis.

Music by Kenyon Hopkins (12 Angry Men 1957, The Strange One 1957, The Fugitive Kind 1960, Elmer Gantry 1960, East Side/West Side 1963-46, Lilith 1964, television movies, Dr. Cook’s Garden 1971, Women in Chains 1972, Night of Terror 1972, The Devil’s Daughter 1973 and tv’s The Odd Couple 1970-73).

Robert Rossen is one of the most fascinating unexplored American directors, for his interesting viewpoint on alienation in the world and that constant elusive souvenir of the spirit of one’s identity. Rossen has been quoted as saying that his favorite Shakespearean play was Macbeth. In it he said he found a “dramatization of the ambiguity of the human condition… man reaching for the symbols of his identity, rather than the reality, destroying yet finding himself in the tragic process.” 

In Rossen’s collection of works, you can see the more aggressive symbols played out as the representations of male power, domination, and violence as physical love. He told The New York Sun in 1947 that “Real life is ugly… but we can’t make good pictures until we’re ready to tell about it.”

Body and Soul (1947) written by Robert Rossen and Directed by Abraham PolonskyShown: back: William Conrad (as Quinn), Joseph Pevney (as Shorty Polaski), John Garfield (as Charlie Davis)

After his gangster film Johnny O’Clock Rossen was directed with the conventions of the crime genre Body and Soul (1947). Then Rossen directed The Hustler which used a breakthrough in technique and stretched the boundaries of social realism in the way Kazan had. The film like his All the Kings Men is still about the corrupt influences of money but on a deeper level it is driven by a darker motivation-the and illusionary symbols of self-worth, with George C. Scott’s character playing at Eddie’s weakness as a gambler and a seeker, like a devil daring him toward damnation. He is a sadist and ultimately seeks Eddie’s dependency and ruination and Sarah’s self-destruction.

Sarah tells Eddie “We are all crippled.” Sarah has the insight to see into the future yet she is beyond all the wounds inflicted in her life and can not forestall what will happen outside the confines of their little world that is her cluttered apartment. Sarah and Bert battle it out for Eddie’s soul. It is an ugly power struggle, and there are so many brilliantly executed frames that represent Rossen’s complex themes within The Hustler.

The film also co-stars Michael Constantine, Vincent Gardenia, Murray Hamilton, and Myron McCormick who is always compelling in any role, plays Eddie’s devoted manager Charlie Burns who takes the journey with Eddie at first and winds up being pushed out by the hostile and rancorous Bert Gordon. Murry Hamilton is fantastic as he inhabits the coded gay character of the pretentious and effete gambler Findley.

The Hustler is a moral allegory about life and the inter-relationships of miscreants, losers, and lost souls struggling to find themselves in a gritty, unsatisfying world that permeates the world of the competitive underground sport of shooting pool. Fast Eddie has been working his way up to have a showdown with the reigning legend Minnesota Fats finally. The film is a restless contemplation merged with some dynamic scenes of maneuvering on the pool table.

The film opens with a smoke-filled pool palace in Pittsburgh with a sign ‘gambling not allowed’. It’s a hangout for pool sharks, called hustlers. Paul Newman plays Fast Eddie, a smug young man who was born to take suckers for a ride, feeling that wood between his anxious fingers he can spot a ripe table waiting for him to swoop in for the kill. But Eddie with all his mythological ambition just doesn’t know when it’s time to quit. Eddie goes 25 consecutive rounds with the legendary Minnesota Fats and it appears like he’s got the marathon match in his corner pocket when he starts knocking back the whiskey, and can’t just take the win with the dignity he has to demolish Fats and allow his ego to drive the rest of the rest of the way home. The scene is shot in a dynamic half-hour sequence using gorgeous black and white photography in cinemascope and Schüfftan‘s (who won an Oscar for his camera work) eye for detail he honed on Fritz Lang’s surreal Metropolis, the film he developed special effects for. The sequence of this film is nothing short of riveting. The setup is mesmerizing as we are drawn into a timeless expanse as the different approaches to the game unfold, as the pool stick meets the ball, the balls dance and fill the pockets like cannon fire, while the spectators whose expressions are glued to every move as if in a trance.

Fats who is way more graceful and composed manages to win back his loot and leave the cocky and exhausted Eddie practically penniless. Eddie’s got a keen skill for the game but he doesn’t have self-control or character. Bert Gordon played by actor George C. Scott tempts Eddie like Mephistopheles to sell his soul to him with the promise that he can not only make his dream come true of being the greatest but also avenge the ass-kicking that he took from Fats. As cock-sure as Eddie appears, he has no fortitude and winds up abandoning his honor and his love for Sarah in order to seek the rematch with the Fat man.

Piper Laurie’s character Sarah Packard is a liberated forward-thinking woman who while bares the damage of life, is independent though alienated from the rest of the world because of her open wounds. She is trying to be a writer and drinks too much. She wants to be loved, and Eddie wants to be the best.

And so he sells his soul to Bert Gordon, the film’s Faustian metaphor. The early 60s began an era of films that began to embrace controversial adult-themed narratives, that dealt with race, class dynamics, and the changing roles that were taking place with gender.

[Fast Eddie is bothered because Bert called him a born loser]

Fast Eddie: “Cause, ya see, twice, Sarah… once at Ames with Minnesota Fats and then again at Arthur’s, in that cheap, crummy pool room, now why’d I do it, Sarah? Why’d I do it? I coulda beat that guy, coulda beat ‘im cold, he never woulda known. But I just hadda show ‘im. Just hadda show those creeps and those punks what the game is like when it’s great, when it’s REALLY great. You know, like anything can be great, anything can be great. I don’t care, BRICKLAYING can be great, if a guy knows. If he knows what he’s doing and why and if he can make it come off. When I’m goin’, I mean, when I’m REALLY goin’ I feel like a… like a jockey must feel. He’s sittin’ on his horse, he’s got all that speed and that power underneath him… he’s comin’ into the stretch, the pressure’s on ‘im, and he KNOWS… just feels… when to let it go and how much. Cause he’s got everything workin’ for ‘im: timing, touch. It’s a great feeling, boy, it’s a real great feeling when you’re right and you KNOW you’re right. It’s like all of a sudden I got oil in my arm. The pool cue’s part of me. You know, it’s uh – pool cue, it’s got nerves in it. It’s a piece of wood, it’s got nerves in it. Feel the roll of those balls, you don’t have to look, you just KNOW. You make shots that nobody’s ever made before. I can play that game the way… NOBODY’S ever played it before.”

Sarah Packard: “You’re not a loser, Eddie, you’re a winner. Some men never get to feel that way about anything.”

Rossen wrote the screenplay and directed this gripping story of fast Eddie Felson, as he strives to knock Minnesota Fats down a peg and capture the title of best pool hustler in the country, taking Fats (Jackie Gleason who was perfect as he manifested the character of Fats, well-dressed, reserved and showed a deep reverence and concentration to the game.) on in a high-stakes game that challenges no only his keen gift for shooting pool but on the line is his self-respect and his nebulous masculine identity.

Fast Eddie to Fats: You know, I got a hunch, fat man. I got a hunch it’s me from here on in. One ball, corner pocket. I mean, that ever happen to you? You know, all of a sudden you feel like you can’t miss? ‘Cause I dreamed about this game, fat man. I dreamed about this game every night on the road. Five ball. You know, this is my table, man. I own it.

Along the way, he falls in love with Sarah Packford immortalized on the screen in an arresting performance by Piper Laurie (Kim Novak had turned down the role) who should have won the Oscar for Best Actress with her nuanced, and heart-wrenching interpretation of the vulnerable loner and self-loathing Sarah. Rossen has often dealt with the intricacies within the psychological landscape of his films.

Piper Laurie: The Girl Who Ate Flowers

Sarah Packard is a complicated woman who has a tenuous connection to the world but allows herself to fall in love with Eddie who is driven to succeed and land at the top as the greatest pool hustler. Sarah is a lost soul longing for someone who will love her. She receives a stipend from her wealthy father, but there is no sign of affection or acceptance from him, his is non-existent. Eddie awakens desire in her, but he cannot deliver anything but his hunger and ambition to beat Minnesota Fats and attain the title. Fast Eddie destroys everything he touches. In order to really throw herself into the role of Sarah Packard Piper Laurie actually hung out at the Greyhound terminal at night.

Piper Laurie (Has Anybody Seen My Gal 1952, The Mississippi Gambler 1953, Dangerous Mission 1954, Johnny Dark 1954, Ain’t Misbehavin’ 1955, and director Curtis Harrington’s Ruby 1977, Children of a Lesser God 1986, Dario Argento’s Trauma 1993, The Crossing Guard 1995, The Dead Girl 2006 and television series-Naked City, Ben Casey, The Eleventh Hour) discovered that Paul Newman was indeed down to earth – “He really didn’t believe in himself as an actor at all. He thought he had great limitations and owed everything to other people- the Actors Studio, Joanne- he seemed not to take credit for himself.”

Laurie didn’t make another film over the course of 15 years until she returned to the screen in Brian De Palma’s adaptation of Stephen King’s Carrie (1976), which earned her a second Oscar nomination as the religious fanatic archetypal devouring mother a role that would ignite a new fire under the icons of horror movie fiends and villains.

Sarah and Eddie meet in the bus terminal. They both have a drinking problem, especially Sarah who drowns her self-pity in booze. She was born with a deformity in her foot which makes her limp and gives her a feeling of self-hatred and undesirability that Eddie breaks through with his smooth-talking swagger. He manages to reach in and touch her heart but his reckless abandon to win, overshadows Sarah’s cries for help and her self-destructive nature cannot withstand the competition for Eddie’s soul.

Sarah Packard: I love you, Eddie.

Fast Eddie: You know, someday, Sarah, you’re gonna settle down… you’re gonna marry a college professor and you’re gonna write a great book. Maybe about me. Huh? Fast Eddie Felson… hustler.

Sarah Packard: I love you.

Fast Eddie: You need the words?

Sarah Packard: Yes, I need them very much. If you ever say them I’ll never let you take them back.

To achieve Sarah’s limp, Piper Laurie first experimented with walking around with pebbles in her shoes. “Finally, I just did it without anything, because Rossen didn’t want an obvious limp; he didn’t want it consistent because he felt he wanted the audience to be aware of it sometimes and not other times.”

The two shack up and set up house in Sarah’s apartment that is subsidized by her father’s money. Eddie is obsessed with winning. Their relationship is turbulent and dysfunctional, then enters George C. Scott as Bert Gordon a misanthropic snake in the grass who exploits Eddie and interferes with his relationship with Sarah. Once Bert Gordon slithers into the closed world of Eddie’s pool hustling and his love affair with Sarah, that world is corrupted, and Eddie begins to lose his way.

Ulu Grosbard later noted that the interior of Sarah’s apartment was built in a studio at 55th St. and 10th Ave. He said the actors’ dressing rooms there were very small and, in his memory, without windows, “like cells,” but that Piper Laurie furnished hers “as if she were going to live in it the rest of her life.” It was Grosbard’s impression that Laurie would sometimes spend the night there.

Bert Gordon: Eddie, is it alright if I get personal?

Fast Eddie: Whaddaya been so far?

Bert Gordon: Eddie, you’re a born loser.

Fast Eddie: What’s that supposed to mean?

Bert Gordon: First time in ten years I ever saw Minnesota Fats hooked… really hooked. But you let him off.

Fast Eddie: I told you I got drunk.

Bert Gordon: Sure you got drunk. You have the best excuse in the world for losing; no trouble losing when you got a good excuse. Winning… that can be heavy on your back, too, like a monkey. You’ll drop that load too when you got an excuse. All you gotta do is learn to feel sorry for yourself. One of the best indoor sports, feeling sorry for yourself. A sport enjoyed by all, especially the born losers.

Bert Gordon: You’re here on a rain check and I know it. You’re hangin’ on by your nails. You let that glory whistle blow loud and clear for Eddie and you’re a wreck on a railroad track… you’re a horse that finished last. So don’t make trouble, Miss Ladybird. Live and let live! While you can. I’ll make it up to you.

Sarah Packard: How?

Bert Gordon: You tell me.

Fast Eddie: I loved her, Bert. I traded her in on a pool game. But that wouldn’t mean anything to you. Because who did you ever care about? Just win, win, you said, win, that’s the important thing. You don’t know what winnin’ is, Bert. You’re a loser. ‘Cause you’re dead inside, and you can’t live unless you make everything else dead around ya.

The Hustler is an extraordinary character study of how humans bang into each other like the balls on the table, and no one really wins. It’s got a slick rhythm to its movement and editing by the wonderful Dede Allen and Eugen Schüfftan (Metropolis 1927, Bluebeard (1944), Strange Illusion (1945), The Strange Woman 1946, The Bloody Brood (1959), Eyes Without a Face 1960,  Something Wild (1961) Lilith (1964) Eugen Schüfftan’s style is uniquely dark and almost mythic in its visual abstraction of reality.

IMDb trivia –

The picture was shot by Eugen Schüfftan, who had invented an optical effects process that employed mirrors to create backgrounds. According to crew reports, many of the pool room shots employed this process to varying degrees. The picture was also shot in CinemaScope, a wide-screen process usually reserved for big epics and action pictures.

The camera descends like Orpheus into the seedy smoky hidden world of the American pool hall, gazing at the sweaty mercenaries who hunger to hear the clicking and smacking of the balls making contact as they encircle the pool tables like birds of prey.

According to editor Dede Allen, an entire scene from this film was omitted after much deliberation between Allen and her director Robert Rossen. Even though both agreed that the scene, an impassioned speech by Paul Newman in the pool room, was possibly the best part of his entire performance, they had to throw it out because “…it didn’t move the story.” Newman, though Oscar-nominated, later claimed that the deleted scene most likely cost him the Academy Award. Dede Allen liked working with Robert Rossen because he was the kind of director who shot scenes from every possible angle, providing her with a wide range of cover footage that allowed for various interpretations and possibilities.

American actress Piper Laurie as Sarah Packard in ‘The Hustler’, directed by Robert Rossen, 1961. (Photo by Silver Screen Collection/Getty Images)

The film was also somewhat autobiographical for Robert Rossen, relating to his dealings with the House Un-American Activities Committee. A screenwriter during the 1930s and ’40s, he had been involved with the Communist Party in the 1930s and refused to name names at his first HUAC appearance. Ultimately he changed his mind and identified friends and colleagues as party members. Similarly, Felson sells his soul and betrays the one person who really knows and loves him in a Faustian pact to gain character.

When it was necessary to show some of the trickier shots, 14 time world billiards champion Willie Mosconi (who was also the film’s technical advisor) would play the stunt hands.

Otherwise, Jackie Gleason who was already an accomplished pool player and Paul Newman had never held a pool cue before he landed the role of Fast Eddie Felson. He took out the dining room table from his home and installed a pool table so he could spend every waking hour practicing and polishing up his skills

This is your EverLovin’ Joey saying wrack ’em up and then join me for another go around here at The Last Drive In

 

Postcards from Shadowland no. 17 🌀 The Twilight Zone edition

“Five Characters in Search of an Exit” Season 3 Episode 14-Stars William Windom, Susan Harrison, Murray Matheson, Kelton Garwood aired December 22, 1961 Teleplay by Rod Serling.
“The Sixteen Millimeter Shrine” Season 1 episode 4 aired October 23rd 1959-stars Ida Lupino and Martin Balsam, Jerome Cowan, Ted de Corsia and Alice Frost as Sally. Written by Rod Serling
“Black Leather Jackets” Season 5 Episode 18 aired January 31st 1964-stars Lee Kinsolving, Shelley Fabares, Michael Forest, Denver Pyle, Tom Gilleran, Michael Conrad and Irene Hervey.
“Elegy” Season 1 Episode 20 aired on February 19th, 1960 directed by Douglas Heyes and written by Charles Beaumont. Stars Cecil Kellaway, Jeff Morrow, Don Dubbins and Kevin Hagen
“Eye of the Beholder” Season 2 Episode 6 aired on November 11th, 1960 directed by Douglas Heyes and written by Rod Serling. Stars Maxine Stuart, William D. Gordon, Jennifer Howard, George Keymas, Joanna Heyes, and Donna Douglas -revealed
NOVEMBER 11: Twilight Zone episode ‘Eye of the Beholder’, written by Rod Serling. makeup by William Tuttle. Originally broadcast on November 11, 1960. Season 2, episode 6. (Photo by CBS via Getty Images)
“Nothing in the Darkness” Season 3, Episode 16 aired January 5th, 1962. Stars Gladys Cooper Robert Redford and R.G. Armstrong
“Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” Season 5 Episode 3 aired October 11th, 1963 directed by Richard Donner written by Richard Matheson, Starring William Shatner, and Christine White

“The Howling Man” Season 2 Episode 5 aired November 4, 1960 directed by Douglas Heyes written by Charles Beaumont and Rod Serling. Stars John Carradine, H.M. Wynant, and Robin Hughes

“It’s a Good Life” Season 3 Episode 8 aired aired November 3rd, 1961. teleplay by Rod Serling based on a short story by Jerome Bixby. Stars John Larch, Cloris Leachman, Don Keefer, Bill Mumy as Anthony, Alice Frost as Aunt Amy, Max Showalter, Jeanne Bates, Lenore Kingston and Tom Hatcher.

“A Most Unusual Camera” Season 2 Episode 10 aired December 16, 1960. Starring Jean Carson, Fred Clark and Adam Williams written by Rod Serling
“Little Girl Lost” Season 3 Episode 26 aired March 16, 1962 directed by Paul Stewart and written by Richard Matheson. Stars Sarah Marshall, Robert Sampson and Charles Aidman
“Living Doll’ Season 5 Episode 6 aired November 1, 1963 written by Charles Beaumont and Rod Serling. Stars Telly Savalas, Mary LaRoche and Tracy Stratford

“The Midnight Sun” Season 3 Episode 10 aired November 17, 1961 Written by Rod Serling. Stars Lois Nettleton, and Betty Garde
“Mirror Image” Season 1 Episode 21 directed by John Brahm written by Rod Serling. Stars Vera Miles, Martin Milner, Joseph Hamilton and Naomi Stevens
“Mr. Garrity and the Graves” Season 5 Episode 32. Aired May 8th, 1964 directed by Ted Post, with a teleplay by Rod Serling. Stars John Dehner, Stanley Adams, J. Pat O’Malley, Norman Leavitt, Percy Helton and John Mitchum
“Mr. Denton on Doomsday” Season 1 Episode 3 aired October 16th 1959 written by Rod Serling Stars Dan Duryea, Martin Landau, Jeanne Cooper, Malcolm Atterbury, Ken Lynch, Arthur Batanides, Robert Burton and Doug McClure
“A Stop at Willoughby” Season 1 Episode 30 aired May 6, 1960 directed by Robert Parrish written by Rod Serling. Stars James Daly, Howard Smith and Patricia Donahue, Jason Wingreen, and Mavis Neal Palmer.
“Nick of Time” Season 2 Episode 3 aired November 18, 1960 Written by Richard Matheson and Rod Serling Stars William Shatner and Patricia Breslin
“Night Call’ Season 5 Episode 19 aired February 7, 1964 Directed by Jacques Tourneur written by Richard Matheson and Rod Serling. Stars the great Gladys Cooper, Nora Marlowe and Martine Bartlett.
“Nightmare as a Child” Season 1 Episode 29 aired April 29, 1960 written by Rod Serling. Stars Janice Rule, Sheppard Strudwick and Terry Burnham as Markie
“Twenty Two” Season 2 Episode 17 aired February 10, 1961 Directed by Jack Smight written by Rod Serling from Famous Ghost Stories- Stars Barbara Nichols, Jonathon Harris, and Fredd Wayne
“One for the Angels” Season 1 Episode 2 aired October 9, 1959 Written by Rod Serling. Stars Ed Wynn, Murray Hamilton as death, Dana Dillaway as Maggie
“A Penny for your Thoughts” Season 2 Episode 16 aired February 3, 1961 Written by George Clayton Johnson and Rod Serling. Stars Dick York, June Dayton, Dan Tobin, Cyril Delevanti, and Hayden Rorke
“People are Alike All Over” Season 1 Episode 25 aired March 25, 1960 Stars Roddy McDowall, Susan Oliver and Paul Comi
“Long Live Walter Jameson” Season 1 Episode 24 aired March 18, 1960 Written by Charles Beaumont. Stars Kevin McCarthy, Edgar Stehli, Estelle Winwood and Dodie Heath
“Queen of the Nile” Season 5 Episode 23 aired March 6, 1964 directed by John Brahm written by Charles Beaumont and Rod Serling. Starring Ann Blyth, Lee Phillips, and Celia Lovsky

“Spur of the Moment” Season 5 Episode 21 aired February 21, 1964 directed by Eliot Silverstein written by Richard Matheson. Stars Diana Hyland, Marsha Hunt, Philip Ober and Roger Davis.
“The After Hours” Season 1 Episode 34 aired June 10, 1960 directed by Douglas Heyes written by Rod Serling. Stars Anne Francis and Elizabeth Allen
“The Dummy” Season 3 Episode 33 aired May 4, 1962 directed by Abner Biberman teleplay by Rod Serling. Stars Cliff Robertson, Frank Sutton, George Murdock, John Harmon and Sandra Warner.
“The Fear” Season 5 Episode 35 aired May 29, 1964 directed by Ted Post written by Rod Serling. Stars Hazel Court and Peter Mark Richman
“The Grave” Season 3 Episode 7 aired October 27, 1961 Written and Directed by Montgomery Pittman Stars Lee Marvin, James Best, and Strother Martin, Elen Willard and Lee Van Cleef
“The Hitch-Hiker” Season 1 Episode 16 aired January 22, 1960 Teleplay by Rod Serling based on a radio play by Lucille Fletcher. Stars Inger Stevens, Adam Williams, Lew Gallo and Leonard Strong as The Hitch-Hiker
“The Invaders” Season 2 Episode 15 aired January 27, 1961 Directed by Douglas Heyes written by Richard Matheson. Stars Agnes Moorehead in a completely dialogue-less performance.
“The Lonely” Season 1 Episode 7 aired November 13, 1959 Directed by Jack Smight written by Rod Serling. Stars Jack Warden, John Dehner, Jean Marsh and Ted Knight
“The Man in the Bottle” Season 2 Episode 2 aired October 7, 1960 directed by Don Medford written by Rod Serling. Stars Luther Adler, Vivi Janiss, and Joseph Ruskin
“The Masks” Season 5 Episode 25 aired March 20, 1964 Directed by Ida Lupino written by Rod Serling. Stars Robert Keith, Milton Seltzer, Virginia Gregg, Brooke Hayward and Willis Bouchey
“The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” Season 1 Episode 22 aired March 4, 1960. Written by Rod Serling. Stars Claude Akins, Barry Atwater, Jack Weston, Jan Handzlik, Amzie Strickland, Burt Metcalfe, Mary Gregory, Anne Barton
“The New Exhibit” Season 4 Episode 14 aired April 4 1963 Directed by John Brahm written by Charles Beaumont and Rod Serling. Stars Martin Balsam, Will Kuluva, Margaret Field William Mims
“The Shelter” Season 3 Episode 3 aired September 29, 1961 directed by Lamont Johnson written by Rod Serling. Stars Larry Gates, Joseph Bernard, Jack Albertson, Peggy Stewart, Sandy Kenyon, Michael Burns, Jo Helton, Moria Turner, and Mary Gregory
“Time Enough At Last” Season 1 Episode 8 aired November 20, 1959 Directed by John Brahm and teleplay by Rod Serling based on a short story by Lynn Venable. Stars Burgess Meredith as Henry Bemis
“To Serve Man” Season 3 Episode 24 aired March 2, 1962 Teleplay by Rod Serling based on a short story by Damon Knight. Stars Lloyd Bochner, Susan Cummings and Richard Kiel
“A Passage for Trumpet” Season 1 Episode 32 aired May 20, 1960 Directed by Don Medford written by Rod Serling. Stars Jack Klugman and John Anderson
“Walking Distance” Season 1 Episode 5 aired October 30th, 1959 directed by Robert Stevens and written by Rod Serling. Stars Gig Young, Frank Overton and Irene Tedrow and a young Ronny Howard
“Two” Season 3 Episode 1 aired September 15, 1961 directed by Montgomery Pittman written by Montgomery Pittman and Rod Serling. Stars Elizabeth Montgomery and Charles Bronson
“Third from the Sun” Season 1 Episode 14 aired January 8, 1960 Teleplay by Rod Serling based on a story by Richard Matheson. Stars Fritz Weaver, Edward Andrews, Joe Maross, Denise Alexander and Lori March
“What You Need” Season 1 Episode 12 aired Deccember 25, 1959 Stars Steve Cochran, Ernest Truex, Read Morgan and Alrene Martel
Season 1 Episode 1 aired October 2nd 1959. Written by Rod Serling. Stars Earl Holliman, James Gregory, and Paul Langton,
“Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up?” Season 2 Episode 28 aired May 26, 1961. Directed by Montgomery Pittman written by Rod Serling. Stars John Hoyt, Jean Willes, Jack Elam, Barney Phillips, John Archer, William Kendis, Morgan Jones, Gertrude Flynn, Bill Irwin, Jill Ellis and Ron Kipling

Your EverLovin’ Joey saying The Last Drive In is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge!

No Way To Treat a Lady 1968 & Man On a Swing 1974: All the World’s a Stage: Of Motherhood, Madness, Lipstick, trances and ESP

No Way To Treat A Lady 1968

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Directed by Jack Smight (Harper 1966, The Illustrated Man 1969, Airport 1975 (1974) plus various work on television dramas and anthology series) John Gay wrote the screenplay based on William Goldman’s novel (Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid 1969, screenplay for The Stepford Wives, Marathon Man ’76, Magic ’78, The Princess Bride. Smight shows us sensationalist traces of The Boston Strangler killings to underpin his black satire.

Lee Remick George Segal & Eileen Heckart on the set of No Way To Treat A Lady (1968)
Lee Remick, George Segal & Eileen Heckart on the set of No Way To Treat A Lady (1968).

No Way To Treat a Lady 1968  Stars Rod Steiger, George Segal, Eileen Heckart, Lee Remick, Murray Hamilton, David Doyle, Val Bisoglio, Michael Dunn, Val Avery, and the ladies… Martine Bartlett, Barbara Baxley, Irene Daily, Doris Roberts Ruth White and Kim August as Sadie the transvestite, a female impersonator who was a featured performer at a Manhattan cabaret.

The film has its gruesome, grotesque, and transgressive set pieces of women splayed with lipstick kisses on their foreheads. Director Jack Smight’s and writer William Goldman’s vision is outrageously dark, sardonic, satirical, penetrating, and contemptuous of motherhood and humanity in general.

From “Ed Gein and the figure of the transgendered serial killer” by K.E. Sullivan “NO WAY TO TREAT A LADY a story about a serial killer who was psychologically abused by his mother and kills women to get revenge upon her. The killer is most likely based on William Hierans (The Lipstick Killer),yet the narrative foregrounds cross-dressing as part of the murderer’s technique, despite the fact that Hierans did not cross-dress.”

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The dynamic Rod Steiger enlivens the screen as lady killer Christopher Gill, living in the shadow of his famous theatrical mother. He impersonates different characters in order to gain access to his victim’s homes, where he then strangles them, leaving his mark a red lipstick kiss on their foreheads. Gill begins a game of cat and mouse with police detective Morris Brummel (George Segal), who lives at home with his domineering mother.

There is an aspect of the film that is rooted in the ongoing thrills of watching Rod Steiger don his disguises as a sex killer. But what evolves through the witty narrative is the moral confrontation between the antagonist and protagonist surrounding their conflicting values and class backgrounds. The one psychological thread that runs through their lives is the parallel and sexual neurosis both have because of their dominating mother figures.

The opening scene… Christopher Gill impersonating Father McDowall (Steiger) is walking down the street viewed with a long shot, he’s whistling a ‘sardonic’ tune… in the vein of “the ants go marching” alongside The East River. Present, is the activity of cars passing by on the East Side Highway.

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As he approaches the camera, we can see that he is wearing a priest’s frock.

We hear the city noises, the sounds of cars honking, young children plowing into him as they run by, and a young girl in a short lime green dress greets him as he continues to walk along the sidewalk.

As Gill passes Kate Palmer (Lee Remick) descending the stairs of the apartment house, he says, “Top of the morning to you, young lady!”

Continue reading “No Way To Treat a Lady 1968 & Man On a Swing 1974: All the World’s a Stage: Of Motherhood, Madness, Lipstick, trances and ESP”