Le secret d'argile

Newspaperman William Gargan interviews a hospitalized newspaperman about "the Argyle Album." While Gargan gets him a glass of water, the other guy dies of a heart attack ..... and a knife in his heart. Gargan heads off to figure out what is going on, with the cops on his trail, encountering a gaggle of eccentric characters played by Marjorie Lord, Jack Reitzen and John Banner, all looking for the Maguffin, with Ralph Byrd as a dumb cop.

Yes, it's pretty much THE MALTESE FALCON rewritten and directed by Cy Enfield, with the characteristics of participants assorted differently and no homosexuality anywhere. It's definitely second-string Universal material, with only one interesting credit behind the camera: Raymond J. Rohauer as "Assistant to the Producer." Everyone has to start somewhere, I suppose.

Enfield's script is pretty much an unremarkable retread, except that Gargan occasionally does a voice-over in the linking scenes, telling us what we can see him doing. The IMDb shows it was originally written as a radio script. No one pointed out that the voice-overs were unnecessary and annoying.

... and not his best movie by far : very talkative, dull casting, no rhythm, only a few good scenes in an hour movie that lacks a real script. Cy Enfield would do a much lot better two years later with "The Underworld Story" and "The Sound Of Fury", in 1957 with "Hell Drivers" and of course in 1964 with "Zulu", strong movies with real casting. But forget this dull "Argyles Secrets".

The Babel of foreign and regional accents in The Argyle Secrets seems too exotic – overdone – until you learn that Cy Endfield directed this short, cheap thriller from his own radio play. There, probably no more than four actors took the many and generic parts, distinguishing them with funny voices. Movies can't get away with that, so a roster of character players – several of them familiar from ‘50s television – was rounded up to fill out the cast. Since the stars are William Gargan (a couple of seasons as Martin Kane, Private Eye) and Marjorie Lord (Make Room For Daddy), with Barbara Billingsley (Leave It To Beaver) visible to those who don't blink, viewers should know better than to expect The Big Sleep.

Actually, The Maltese Falcon is the better template, of which The Argyle Secrets resembles a fifth-generation knockoff. The object in demand is a book called The Argyle Album, a detailed list of war profiteers that's being used for blackmail. A famous investigative columnist, in hospital, tells his younger colleague Gargan about it shortly before he expires, either of poison or a scalpel plunged into his pajamas. In tracking down the album, Gargan meets up with and fends off a motley of grotesques, including femme fatale Lord.

By no stretch of hyperbole can it be called good – it's coarse and jumpy – but now and again it shows flashes of talent (Endfield, two years later, would direct the much better The Underworld Story). There are some neat shots of the waterfront at night (the city's unspecified, but Boston comes to mind) and a tense and well-photographed sequence where an acetylene torch burns through a metal gate behind which Gargan has locked himself for safety.

Alas, Gargan is foisted off as an energetic young turk of the fourth estate, even though at the time he was 42 and looked at least 10 years older. He had started in movies in 1917, chalking up a more than respectable list of credits, but what charisma he may have once displayed had long since dissipated. Sad that the Indian Summer of his career would be spent in those lesser mediums of radio and newfangled TV. But he earns praise for spending the last years of his life, following a laryngectomy, working for the American Cancer Society.

If, like Ben Mankewiecz the other night, I were to extol the tragic, shamefully HUAC truncated career of writer/director Cy Enfield, this agressively ordinary murder/espionage mystery with way too much dull narration and a rather flat acting job by lead William Gargan would not be my first choice as evidence. Think I'd go with either "Zulu" or "Hell Drivers" instead. Still, it's always nice to see the future June Cleaver get clocked and Enfield brings the thing in at under seventy minutes, which is almost always a plus in these kinds of el cheapo Saturday matinee type deals. C plus.

D. C. insider and investigative reporter Allen Pierce has returned to town, but immediately ends up in the hospital. He tells junior reporter Harry Mitchell (William Gargan) about "The Argyle Album". After leaving the room, Harry returns to find him dead. Harry wants a head start on the story and convinces the photographer to delay reporting the death. By the time the doctor arrives, there is a knife stuck in Allen's body, and the photographer has been stabbed to death. Harry goes on the run and searches for the album without knowing what it is.

I really love the premise. It becomes not much more than a McGuffin hunt. I would like more paranoia and more kinetic action. This movie needs some car chases and a few foot chases. I like some of the villains, but they could be more compelling. The ending is a little anti-climatic. I would have expected a victim of the blackmail come hunting for it. This has a great start, but the movie isn't able to elevate above its B-movie nature.