Charismatic Steve McQueen is ‘The Cincinnati Kid’ 1965

Steve McQueen tries to keep his cool as "The Cincinnati Kid."

There were many talented hands involved with the poker playing epic, 1965’s The Cincinnati Kid. However, Steve McQueen is the winner, in the title role. McQueen isn’t just cool, but also effortlessly natural and emotionally understated as the man who has something to prove.

Like Paul Newman, Steve McQueen knew the power of his piercing blue eyes.

A common criticism of The Cincinnati Kid is that Paul Newman’s The Hustler from 1961 is a much more powerful story. That should go without saying. To me, the similarities between the two films are superficial:  both title characters struggle to make a name in their game; both are going up against a veteran champ in their respective sport. Otherwise, the movies are apples and oranges: Newman’s film is a stark, realistic black and white drama; McQueen’s movie is a stylish, colorful crowd-pleaser. The Hustler is a classic; The Cincinnati Kid is great entertainment and holds up well 50 years later.

A smile from the usually laconic Steve McQueen, as "The Cincinnati Kid."

I’ve only seen a few of Steve McQueen’s films because many of them are genre flicks. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m always knocked out by McQueen’s naturalistic performances. As The Cincinnati Kid, Steve’s card player is tough, but only when he has to be. Though he has ethereal Tuesday Weld and erotic Ann-Margret in his thrall, McQueen’s bad boy truly only wants Weld. When he strays once with A-M, he sees that it’s a mistake. In the typical male star vehicle, it’s a given that the hero can beat up any man and bed every female in sight. Steve McQueen differed from his greatest competitor, Paul Newman. Growing up, I always thought of them as the same type. While McQueen’s beat-up good looks and blue eyes are irresistible, Steve was no male beauty like Paul. I like Steve’s style during the ‘60s, much more than Newman’s cocky anti-hero. McQueen reminds me of an updated version of Bogart and Garfield. The final scene where the Kid admits that he’s done, tonelessly matter of fact, is just one of many understated moments by Steve McQueen in The Cincinnati Kid.

The scene when Steve McQueen's "Cincinnati Kid" quietly admits defeat is powerful.

Edward G. Robinson’s performance as veteran gambler Lancey Howard is one of his best—and one of Eddie’s most restrained. Nicknamed “The Man,” Howard knows that “The Kid” is coming down the pike. When Howard rolls into New Orleans, he’s like visiting royalty. I love watching Robinson as Lancey, like a Cheshire cat, taking everything in with great stillness. His poker face is quite entertaining, contrasted with those half-asleep eyes that miss nothing. After a game with a sore loser of a rich man, a game is set up that includes The Man and The Kid. During that third act poker game, Robinson gets to genially spar with former WB co-star Joan Blondell, and his interaction with younger star McQueen is understated and riveting. Eddie was quoted that he admired McQueen, that he was a throwback to the WB stars like himself, Bogie, Cagney, and Garfield. Robinson was totally right.

"I'm still the top stud poker player, see?" Edward G. Robinson as Lancey Howard
aka The Man in 1965's "The Cincinnati Kid."

What a shame that Edward G. Robinson didn't get an Oscar nod for his subtle, dryly humorous performance. This and his final turn as Sol in 1973’s Soylent Green were most worthy for Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination consideration. The fact that Eddie got zero Oscar nominations in his film career is one of the Academy’s blindest blunders.

One-time WB stars Edward G. Robinson & Joan Blondell reunited as a card shark
& card dealer in 1965's "The Cincinnati Kid."

Aside from Steve McQueen, Ann-Margret, and Tuesday Weld, with their modern style, there's a lot of period detail for a ‘60s movie that wasn't a costume picture. McQueen has his designer hair cut, but his clothes are timeless, except for that cool rain jacket in the opening scenes. And Weld’s hair is very ‘60s hippie chick, but she’s otherwise in character. Then there’s Ann-Margret as Shooter’s young wife, Melba. I like A-M overall as an actress and she seems like a class act as a person. But her shallow kitten with a whip gets old really fast. Compared to the natural performances and physical appearance of the rest of the cast, Annie’s tidal wave of dyed red hair, awning-sized false lashes, and her purring/hissing cat in heat act stands out in the wrong way. Totally ‘60s in a ‘30s set movie, Ann-Margret’s performance is ironically the one thing that is dated in an otherwise authentically atmospheric film.

Ann-Margret as Melba the Cat? As Karl Malden's faithless wife, Melba even cheats
at jigsaw puzzles! From 1965's "The Cincinnati Kid."

Tuesday Weld’s Christian, a country girl in New Orleans, is her quirky, child-like self. But as the good girl to Ann-Margret’s vamp, Weld has a more genuine rapport with McQueen’s character. The Kid’s bathtub scene, when Christian explains a foreign movie that she’s just seen is one example of their charming interplay.

Tuesday Weld & Steve McQueen have a sweet rapport in 1965's "The Cincinnati Kid."

The cast of The Cincinnati Kid is simply incredible. Karl Malden is a flawed good guy, Shooter, coerced into cutting the cards in the Kid’s favor, because of debts incurred by his trampy wife, Melba. Malden’s empathetic, as always. Rip Torn, of the John Cassavetes/Ben Gazzara department of creeps, is the poor sport money man who wants the Kid to take down reigning ancey. Joan Blondell has her likeable broad routine down pat by now as card dealer Lady Fingers. All the actors get their moment to shine: Jack Weston as grouchy Pig; plus Jeff Corey, Dub Taylor, Cab Calloway, Karl Swenson, Milton Selzer, and Burt Mustin. Uncredited but remarkable is Ken Grant as the little shoeshine boy who always wants to challenge the Cincinnati Kid in a penny pitch.

Ken Grant is winning as the shoe shine boy who dogs "The Cincinnati Kid."

The shoe shine boy who idolizes and challenges "The Cincinnati Kid," 1965.

The movie’s tight yet intriguing visual style is courtesy of director Norman Jewison, editor (future director) Hal Ashby, and versatile cinematographer Philip H. Lathrop (Touch of Evil and Point Blank). Jewison was an actor’s director who was also a great storyteller and it shows here. The story, though it revolves around cards, is really about what the stakes are for these characters in the game. You notice every character, even if they are only reacting to the major players, a hallmark of a Jewison movie.

Director Norman Jewison at right, listening to his star, Steve McQueen, on the set of
 "The Cincinnati Kid." Tuesday Weld is in the middle of the talk.

The Cincinnati Kid was from a novel by Richard Jessup, a writer with a tough upbringing, similar to star Steve McQueen. Sadly, both men died young, two years apart, from cancer. The crisp and humorous script is by old pro Ring Lardner, Jr., first time off the black list, and newcomer Terry Southern, who came into his own in the ‘60s. Lalo Schifrin provides the score, with Ray Charles singing the theme song.

An amused beef from me: Why didn't Jewison reshoot the scene where McQueen throws Malden up against the door, after the Kid finds out Shooter is favoring him with the cards? When Steve slams Karl, the entire wall wobbles!

Rip Torn, so good at playing villains, is rich SOB Slade in "The Cincinnati Kid."

Some movie critics and film fans have complained about card games as a subject matter and the impossible odds of The Kid and The Man’s last hands. Personally, I find card games incredibly boring. The game scenes here were filmed with great skill and I was much more interested in the players’ motivations than their card hands.

The Cincinnati Kid is a crowd-pleaser, you’re either all in, or you’re out.

Here’s my look at director Norman Jewison’s 1967 ensemble masterpiece, In the Heat of the Night: 

http://https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2020/06/in-heat-of-night-1967.html

 

"The Cincinnati Kid" is on its game as great entertainment.

‘Hurry Sundown’ a Hokey Race Melodrama 1967

 

Jane Fonda & Michael Caine as a not-so-happy couple in 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

Otto Preminger's notorious race drama Hurry Sundown was badly reviewed and a box office underperformer back in 1967, but it has a few redeeming qualities. The classic set up in a small town melodrama is where the poor have something that the rich want, and dramatic fireworks ensue. In Hurry Sundown, it’s land, Katie Scarlett! Sadly, the dynamite explosions overshadow the dramatic variety.

Hollywood started to address race issues in the mid-60s. But for every "In the Heat
of the Night," there were clinkers like 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

Michael Caine nearly disguises his famed Cockney accent to play southern schemer Henry Warren, who marries land-rich Julie (Jane Fonda) to try to build a new empire with wealthy developers. They have a combustible marriage, since Caine's hubby a total heel, and Fonda's southern belle is frustrated, natch. They also have a small son with issues, caused by Caine’s Henry. The boy vents his dysfunction by wailing like a set off car alarm. It's all very fake: Caine doesn't sound Cockney, nor does he sound southern; Jane's accent disappears early on, and goes back to her distinctive finishing school voice; and the boy's wails are so obviously dubbed it inspires hilarity instead of heartache.

Rich cousin Henry (Michael Caine) picks up poor cousin Rad (John Phillip Law),
just back from the war. Rad isn't fooled by his gesture, in 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

Faye Dunaway in her first film, as Lou, wife of soldier/farmer Rad,
in 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

Then there are the poor white farmers, one of two parcels that Caine’s conniver wants. They are played by Faye Dunaway and John Phillip Law, as Lou and Rad McDowell. Faye's been holding down the farm, and Law has just come back from WWII. This was Dunaway's first film and one of the few times that Faye went totally no-glam as the farmer's wife. She's also quite toned down in her performance as well. And while Law was not the most expressive actor, he's solid enough, and looks great in his coveralls! 

Michael Caine's Henry Warren wants both Robert Hooks & John Phillip Law's
 property in 1967's "Hurry Sundown." Thankfully, Caine's not wearing coveralls!

Faye Dunaway & John Phillip Law as the most photogenic farm couple ever,
in 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

The third group is the black family. Beah Richards plays Fonda's mammy, Rose Scott, who claims to own the parcel that Fonda says was just loaned to her. Robert Hooks is her son, Reeve, who's willing to stand up to rich white Caine. And Diahann Carroll is Vivian Thurlow, a school teacher that Hooks is sweet on.

Rose Scott (Beah Richards) wants to keep what's rightfully hers in "Hurry Sundown."

The beginning of the film opens with dynamite explosions, blowing up land to be developed into a canning factory. And the end of the film closes with the same, but for different reasons. The booming Hugh Montenegro score makes you think you're in for a spaghetti western, instead of a southern fried melodrama.

Michael Caine's cad is more interested in feeling Jane Fonda up than her '60s up-do
in the '40s-set "Hurry Sundown."

The movie is set post-WWII, but it's hard to tell, since typical of the movie era, there is only lip service paid to period authenticity. Much like the same year's southern melodrama, Reflections in a Golden Eye, you have token period details, but starring leading ladies with towering '60s hairdos, makeup, and clothes. Critics zeroed in on howlers that come mainly from the bad script and supporting ham actors. The leads, while hemmed in by stereotypes, are quite good.

Michael Caine as Henry Warren with his sax; Jane Fonda as wife Julie with her bottle.
 The notorious sax for sex scene from 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

Michael Caine, with slicked back hair and pinstripe suits, looks like a very pale lounge lizard as the heartless hubby. It's hard to imagine why Jane Fonda's Julie has the non-stop hots for him. While Fonda's accent is quickly gone with the wind, her acting is actually solid. Except for the camp classic moment where the southern minx plays her hubby's saxophone between his legs to turn him on! That Jane could make the scenes of Julie torn, between her frustrated spouse and screaming son, at all believable is a tribute to her innate acting ability.

Jane Fonda as Julie, the southern belle who can be bad, but is ultimately good,
in 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

Dunaway is quite natural in her first film, and without any of her '60s glam that was soon her trademark. Faye actually looks like a work-worn farm woman. She and Law's intimate moments are sweet, though Law is no Henry Fonda, as the poor man's voice of the people.

Madeleine Sherwood & Burgess Meredith are the southern couple from Hell in 1967's
 "Hurry, Sundown." That's Frank Converse in the middle, in an early role.

Beah Richards is fine as the mammy until she has a heart attack that makes her seem possessed. Robert Hooks is solid as the firebrand son. And Carroll is no-nonsense as the teacher who's lived up north, but back home, a bit like Pinky. The scene between Carroll and Fonda in the white women's only bathroom is surprisingly strong.

Diahann Carroll as a schoolteacher who's lived up north and deals with bigots
like Burgess Meredith's judge accordingly. From 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

What brings Hurry Sundown truly down is veteran hams Burgess Meredith as racist Judge Purcell and George Kennedy as good ole boy, Sheriff Coombs. The characters are written and performed as ridiculous stereotypes in the broadest of strokes. Madeleine Sherwood as Eula Purcell offers an over the top version of Sister Woman from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Jim Backus is quirky as the defense lawyer Carter Sillens and Robert Reed is smarmy as the prosecutor Lars Finchley. Frank Converse is decent in an early role as Fonda’s Reverend cousin, as is Rex Ingram as Professor Thurslow.

Those southern bigots sure liked their flowers! Burgess Meredith as the judge in 1967's
 "Hurry Sundown." Think Larry Gates in the same year's "In the Heat of the Night."

The plot motions of Hurry Sundown are so cartoonish, that it inspires amusement instead of drama. At least you can accept Hurry Sundown as a guilty pleasure, unlike the previous year’s pretentious southern potboiler, The Chase.

My look @ Jane Fonda's previous all-star southern melodrama, 1966's: The Chase: 

https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2023/09/all-star-cast-cant-save-chase-1966.html

Jane Fonda's spoiled southern belle & Diahann Carroll's intense schoolteacher
have surprisingly strong scene together in 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

At two and a half hours, Hurry Sundown may seem long, but moves at a decent clip. The K.B. Gilden novel was over a 1,000 pages, which director Preminger thought would be the ‘60s Gone with the Wind.

Robert Hooks is a local farmer & Diahann Carroll is a schoolteacher who's lived
up north and don't quite see eye to eye in 1967's "Hurry Sundown."

Otto Preminger, who was never afraid to take on controversy, was always hit and miss in the latter half of his career. This heavy-handed Hurry Sundown is definitely a miss! 

"Ah-ll just scream if Ah have to hear his non-existent Southern accent ah-gin!"

 

Veteran MacMurray & Newcomer Novak in ‘Pushover’ 1954

 

Veteran star Fred MacMurray & starlet Kim Novak in 1954's film noir, "Pushover."

The tale of an authority figure going bad for big bucks and a beautiful broad is nothing new. In its time, Pushover was a B+ movie with a veteran star who was a leading man for two decades, cast opposite a newcomer starlet with no acting experience. Luckily, Pushover had a strong story taken from two novels, a snappy, adult script and direction, and those stars happened to be Fred MacMurray and Kim Novak. MacMurray was in the process from going from leading man to character roles to future family star via Disney and sitcom My Three Sons. Novak went from minor model to major film star with the release of Pushover. A sleeper hit at the time, Pushover is considered by many a noir classic today.

Note how Kim Novak's outfit and makeup differ in this p.r. photo
than the actual scene depicted at the top from 1954's "Pushover."

Richard Quine directed this crime noir tautly and stylishly. He went from acting to directing about this time, and got praise for handling another B+ film noir with a veteran star: Ride a Crooked Mile with Mickey Rooney. After Pushover, he surprisingly went on to direct mostly romantic comedies. Quine began a professional and occasionally personal association with Kim, and handled her quite well as an actress. Kim was a model with two film credits as an extra to her resume. He worked with her strengths, which was her beauty, sensuality, and vulnerability, which pretty much remained her calling card as an actress. 

Kim Novak spends much screen time silently as Lona McLane in 1954's "Pushover."

Kim Novak, like the later Tippi Hedren, became a star before she developed skills as an actress. Director Quine gave her as little dialogue as possible, photographing her viewed by cops through binoculars, or silently driving in the night, and gazing at herself in mirrors. From the get-go, Kim's first role as Lona McLane was as an object of desire, which Hitchcock utilized best four years in Vertigo. In less voyeuristic ways, Kim was the pretty prize in her breakout star role in Picnic, Jeanne Eagels, Strangers When We Meet, and even her final big movie, The Legend of Lylah Clare. Novak was on the eve of turning 21 during filming of Pushover. Kim is slim, yet curvy and very pretty, though stuck with studio assembly line makeup and hair that make her look a bit tarty—however, it fit the role. Soon after, she'd get the big studio makeover. Despite her trance-like performance, Kim elicits empathy as she goes from a kept woman who schemes to get her bank robber boyfriend’s loot, to a woman who genuinely cares about a crooked cop, played by Fred MacMurray.

Fred MacMurray looked frankly midde-aged as dirty cop Paul Sheridan
in 1954's "Pushover."

Most actors wouldn't want to be cast as middle-aged, even if they actually were. But Fred MacMurray plays the role of Paul Sheridan with no script or visual camouflage. His veteran cop is a bitter about his lot in life, compared to his younger partner, played by Phil Carey. Paul wants to get his hands on the bank robber’s cash stash. MacMurray is photographed jowls and all in his mid-40s, compared to 25 years younger Novak, who get the lovely close-ups. Fred's dirty cop first plays Kim's kept girl, only to fall in love with her. Later, you find out the feeling is gradually mutual from Lona. MacMurray plays basically an older version of his character from Double Indemnity, but more realistically than his previous cad. I never found Fred the most exciting actor in the world, but always thought him more interesting as the bad guy.

Before he was soap bad guy Asa Buchanan, Philip Carey was a good & good-looking
 cop partner in 1954's "Pushover."

As for Philip Carey as McAllister, I wonder why he didn't become a big, mid-century movie star. He was talented, masculine, charismatic, and good-looking. I can think of a number of young actors from the late '40s and early '50s who were given the leading man treatment, but ended up character actors because audiences weren't buying. Carey always worked, but often in westerns and TV guest shots. Much later, Carey became a star, as daytime's version of J.R. Ewing, Asa Buchanan on One Life to Live.

Before Dorothy Malone went platinum, she was the nice nurse next door to sex bomb
 Kim Novak in 1954's "Pushover." With nice cop Phil Carey!

Dorothy Malone, who had been kicking around Hollywood for a decade, as opposed to Kim's instant rise, played the brunette neighbor nurse of Novak’s kept woman. A decade older than Novak, Malone makes the most of her second female lead. It's also amusing that Carey’s good cop is peeping on her Ann Stewart, while bad cop MacMurray is peeping on Novak’s Lona. An easy way to change a golden era actress' image was to dye her hair. Lana and Marilyn's careers took off once they went platinum, and Joan Bennett got a new career by going brunette. This was Malone's last role as with dark hair. She went platinum for 1955's Young at Heart. Her career took off, winning an Oscar for her bad girl in Written on the Wind. 

Like Marilyn Monroe, Kim Novak didn't have much use for bras, either!
With Fred MacMurray as the cop who falls for her, in 1954's "Pushover."

One thing that surprised me was how much got past the censors in Pushover. The production code was starting to erode, but still very much in place. But some of the double entendre dialogue, ala Double Indemnity, is not very subtle. Plus, Kim is obviously bra-less in several outfits, on which the camera lingers. Both Novak and Malone's characters get some fresh attention directed at them, rather blatantly. Not that I'm complaining! I roll my eyes at old movies where prostitutes had to be called hostesses or models, but it’s just surprising here.

Who's playin' who? In film noir, it can be hard to tell! Fred MacMurray & Kim Novak
 in 1954's crime drama, "Pushover."

The bottom line with 1954’s Pushover is that while it's nothing new, it was filmed and performed in fine noir style. The story is told in a very adult way for its time, which is one of the reasons it still holds up. Another reason Pushover still appeals is it’s the first time audiences got to see Kim Novak on film.

Kim Novak's last close-up as the bad girl gone good, in 1954's "Pushover."

Here’s an excellent adult soap, starring Kim Novak and Kirk Douglas, directed by Richard Quine: https://ricksrealreel.blogspot.com/2019/02/kim-kirk-team-for-suburban-soap-opera.html