The Price of Fear

The Price of Fear is directed by Abner Biberman and adapted to screenplay by Robert Tallman from a story by Dick Irving Hyland. It stars Merle Oberon, Lex barker, Charles Drake and Warren Stevens. Music is by Heinz Roemheld and cinematography by Irving Glassberg.

Little seen or just forgotten these days, The Price of Fear is actually a rather tight and entertaining piece of film noir film making. Rising above some production limitations, pic is strong on characterisations and it looks just splendid. Story essentially finds Barker as an innocent man out to prove he didn't kill two people in two separate incidents!, while Oberon slips into femme fatale clothes as a love interest who's trying to avoid being found out for one of the killings Barker is under scrutiny for.

Narrative is deliciously twisty in how characters react and perform during the play. Into the mix is an intrepid detective, smooth talking villain, a blackmailing wife, a witness under duress and even a train sick canine! Old noir faithfuls coincidence and fate play their big hands, as does some narration drive. The look is minus chiaroscuro but the nighttime scenes are impressive enough, shiny streets and bulbous lights excellently photographed by Glassberg, while Biberman plays with frame tilts and interesting framing of the lady characters.

There's been some complaints about cast performances, but all are fine here. OK, so it lacks in viper femininity and laconic masculine as per noir classics previously, but nothing here hurts the piece. Solid as a rock is this, it even has the courage of its convictions to provide a genuine surprise ending. Where the main players catch a train to noirville, the termination point worth waiting for. 7/10

Like a lot of Universal-International's 1950s output, THE PRICE OF FEAR is a studio-bound soap opera that borders on kitsch, but within that soap opera, star Lex Barker and an exciting plot in the Hitchcock vein struggle to make the film something better. Barker plays the co-owner of a racetrack where the mob is trying to muscle in. One night, he happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people and his life begins unravelling and he goes on the run. Unfortunately, Merle Oberon enters the picture. I don't know if Ms. Oberon had something else on her mind while making this picture, but she seems to be posing for still photographs throughout the film. Oh, she's gorgeous! glamorous! stunning! But her posing and gown-modeling belongs in a 1920s Gloria Swanson vehincle--or maybe a PARODY of a 1920s Swanson vehicle! It's hard to believe that a savvy character, such as the racetrack owner played by Barker, would fall in love with such a cipher as Oberon's character. If you can forget the soap-opera elements of the plot, there's a good mystery here...and the climax and ending are genuinely surprising. However, only devoted Barker fans should try to find this film.

The Price of Fear from 1956 stars Merle Oberon, Lex Barker, and Charles Drake.

The story concerns a race track owner Dave Barrett (Barker) who learns his partner has sold out to gangsters. When a mobster decides to frame Barrett for the murder of that same expartner, Barker goes on the run. He steals a car he sees idling in front of a phone booth.

The woman inside the phone booth is the wealthy, successful, and beautiful Jessica Warren, who has asked to be connected to the police. She intends to report and confess to a hit and run. Then she sees her car being stolen. She changes her mind about confessing, and instead reports her car as stolen.

Barrett is accused of both the hit and run and the murder of his ex-partner, though given the timing, he could only have committed one crime. Jessica decides it would be best if he were accused of the hit and run, getting her off the hook. Meanwhile, the cops are trying to get him for murder.

Someone on IMDb said that Barker was unattractive, making the romance between Barrett and the beautiful Jessica unrealistic. Well, someone has a vision problem. Barker was considered a major hunk. Oberon by this time was 45, way past her sell-by date in Hollywood. She of course is stunning as always, though sadly this is one of her last screen appearances.

There is talk of an unexpected twist. I guess I've seen too many of these films. The denoument came as no surprise to me.

Interesting film, not much emotion to be had due to the static dialogue, but worth seeing.

Merle Oberon is always worth experiencing in any circumstances, and here they are rather confused. She is a top member of society, a lady above reproach, who happens to a car accident: an old man with a dog loses control of his dog and walks out into the street without seeing her coming, she hits him, she wants to report it immediately to the police taking responsibility at once, but as she already is starting to talk in a phone booth, her car is stolen. Instead she reports her car stolen. That's how it begins.

It appears she wasn't quite satisfied with the film herself, because after this film she almost never appeared on screen again - just a few TV shows, some minor parts now and then, while she still had a long life ahead and never lost her beauty.

It certainly isn't one of the best noirs, rather pale for a noir, and the script is too muddled up with improbabilities. How could she at all have anything to do with those rude gangsters, that later gets her involved, the last thing she wants? She blames her weakness, and that is very womanish, of course, so there is much in this film to discuss - Lex Barker isn't very attractive either, so their love business isn't very convincing. Anyone could love her, but he is rather wooden, while the other guy, Warren Stevens, is simply impossible in his rudeness.

It's worth seeing for her sake, you will remember her, but you will forget the picture.

Businesswoman Merle Oberon runs over an old man and speeds off. She has second thoughts and stops at a phone booth. After she gets the police, Lex Barker, on the run from gangsters who are about to kill his partner, spots it, hops in and zooms off. Miss Oberon reports the car stolen. Buddy/police Lieutenant Charles Drake thinks there's something wrong with the set-up.

There's something about this sort of 1950s drama that strikes me as not impossible, but brittle. So many of the lines are delivered without any emotional weight to them, as if the character is thinking about his words, then considering why he has chosen those words, until all feeling has been rendered out out them. Perhaps it's the pace of the dialogue that I find so unappealing. In the late 1930s, the pace of dialogue in the movies sped up, and the audience was given the impression of a stream of consciousness. Certainly Joseph Gershenson's two bars of theme that rise up majestically from a large orchestra overwhelm the performances instead of accentuating them.