Shack Out on 101

SHACK OUT ON 101, Edward Dein's 1955 minimalist masterpiece of Cold War weirdness remains, over 50 years later, one of Hollywood's strangest concoctions.

A dilapidated seaside beanery just north of San Diego is the setting for this outré noir tale about a group of disparate folks who become either directly or peripherally involved with Commie spies and stolen microfilm. The unforgettable cast includes Keenan Wynn as the diner's proprietor, a man obsessed with his "pecs" and always at odds with Lee Marvin as Slob, the animalistic short-order cook who's obsessed with va-va-voom Terry Moore who drives all the guys wild as the put-upon waitress who seems to only have eyes for Frank Lovejoy, "the professor" (of what we're not exactly sure) and Whit Bissell as the annoyingly chatty salesman who wanders in and out of the picture whenever a couple of uninterrupted minutes of bizarre banter is required.

This is not a normal film in any true sense of the word. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense and, apart from aligning itself with the then current trend of pseudo patriotic, anti- communist espionage films, it isn't easy to guess what was really on the minds of those who produced this delirious little oddity. At times hilarious (possibly intentional, possibly not) and grimly somber, SHACK OUT ON 101 defies rational description and should most definitely be experienced at least once, or in the case with some of us, as often as humanly possible.

Wow, what a surprise. Regardless of what I expected, here is what I got...confusion, claustrophobia, tour de force acting, laughs, intrigue, action, and yes...arousal...the arousal coming from the talky kissing scenes involving the very sexy Terry Moore and her scientist boyfriend. One just wants to push him aside and take over where he started. Goofy plot, where virtually every customer in this diner seems to be somehow involved with spying. Especially puzzling is comparing the very Americany, bad boy, fun loving persona of Lee Marvin, to that of his eventually revealed, anti everything American spy. But then again, I've never met a spy. Maybe they're all fun like that! Or maybe I've seen too many 'normal' spy movies. Still, one has to see this performance by a young Marvin. He absolutely makes it clear that as an actor, he has always had it. Even as a very young man, he still has that 'voice' and can be very scary at times. While watching this movie, I found myself thinking, that when Marvin was a fighting marine in real life on those Japanese held islands, his fox hole buddies must have felt pretty safe with him around. Just a strong, strong presence. Best thing about this movie is the racy dialogue, which is mostly very believable, and truly has you wondering what they are going to say next, while trying to figure out the depth of the relationships between the main characters. Can't believe I have never heard of this movie. It's a good one.

The 50's don't come any goofier than this. It's like Senator McCarthy and the Three Stooges stole 50 bucks and decided to commit a movie. But Lee Marvin steals the show in a performance that puts him in the Commie Dishwasher Hall of Fame. When he's not serving up Timex hamburgers, checking out his "pec's", or slobbering over waitress Terry Moore, he's relaying atomic secrets to the Russkies. And here I thought Stalin's boys only spoke in whispers and worked in libraries. Actually this is a Marvin showcase. Watch how effortlessly he moves from laughs to menace and makes you believe both. That weight-lifting scene with Wynn is some kind of screwball classic. It looks improvised to me, like someone said, "Hey, we've only got 3 pages of script! Turn the camera over here." And when Marvin strangles himself in pursuit of "a Really big neck", I heard gym doors slamming all over the city. There must be a story behind this one-set wonder, but it can't be any weirder than what's on screen. I'm just wondering when the outpatient Dein's were due back for further therapy. Anyway, it's an overlooked chance to catch one of our greatest actors in perhaps his most offbeat and unsung role.

The shack out on Highway 101 just north of San Diego is an oceanside greasy-spoon hung with nautical bric-a-brac like a Red Lobster franchise. It's also the regional headquarters for an subversive spy ring and the claustrophobic setting for one of the oddest fish spawned during the Red Scare paranoia of the post-war years.

Keenan Wynn owns the joint, with short-order cook Lee Marvin and waitress Terry Moore as his live-in help, an arrangement as uncomfortable for Moore as it is convenient for Marvin, who can't keep his hands or lips off her. Regulars include Frank Lovejoy (as an unspecified 'professor' romancing Moore), salesman Whit Bissell, an old fisherman making 'deliveries' right off the boat, and a couple of drivers for theAcme Poultry Company who come in for coffee and cherry pie. In this entrepôt big wads of cash get traded for tiny slivers of microfilm. And operatives losing their nerve or asking too many questions get dead.

Few of those movies which the studios felt constrained to issue in testimony to their rock-solid Americanism were much good (and audiences shunned them like week-old mackerel). But they shared an utter lack of humor and a suffocating tone of moral urgency. This one is more perplexing. The prevailing tone remains light, at times veering toward farce, to an extent that the very real possibility presents itself that the whole thing is a very sly put-on.

One morning when Wynn and Marvin, stripped to their waists, engage in some weight-lifting, Wynn insists that his chest muscles be referred to as 'pecs.' Marvin retorts 'I'm very happy with my pecs,' whereupon they call in Moore to judge which of them has the better legs. In another scene, Moore, lighted through the holes of a hanging colander, looks like she contracted some exotic contagion. But then the movie shifts abruptly into cloak-and-dagger episodes right out of B-movies of the international intrigue genre. Towards the end, the heart sinks as it becomes clear that the movie means us to take it seriously. But serious about what? Never is the word 'Communist' uttered.

Lee Marvin's "Slob" character alone makes this worth viewing, although the espionage film is a bit talky and stagy. Still, Marvin is a real hoot, right from the beginning, and provides a few neat surprises near the end. "Slob" is the name of his character, and it fits.

Otherwise, the film is an insult-fest with everyone trading barbs at one another. Some of them are pretty funny. Keenan Wynn as "George," the diner owner, is involved in many of the put-downs but Terry Moore has a lot of good lines, too. They reminded me some good film noir dialog.

Moore plays the blonde bimbo, "Kotty," a self-proclaimed "hash-slinger" who has good looks and figure and isn't as dumb as she sounds. The guys all call her "tomato" during the story, a popular slang term for babes back in the '50s. All the guys in here are hot for Kotty, and you can't blame them.

Several characters in here aren't who they appear to be, beginning with Frank Lovejoy's professor role, so the movie does keep you guessing.

This is an odd film, a B-atmosphere with an "A" cast. It includes some strange scenes such as the goofy weight workout at the diner with Marvin and Cobb, and later a dry-land snorkel-thon between Cobb and Whit Bissell. Speaking of the latter, Bissell is a familiar face. He did a ton of TV shows in the 1950s through the 1970s. I saw him on a number of Lone Rangers episodes but he also had multiple appearances of Wagon Train, Peyton Place, The Virginian, Perry Mason, World Of Disney, The Rifleman and many, many more shows.

This is one of those strange films where overall, it sucks - let's face it, but many individual scenes make you just laugh out loud, meaning it had enough entertainment to have made my (and others here) time watching it worthwhile......barely.