Count the Hours

MacDonald Carey stars as a public defender taking on the case of a migrant farm worker accused of killing his employer in this unusual RKO production. Directed stylishly by Don Siegel and marvelously photographed by the great John Alton, whose penchant for deep, angular shots is on display throughout, Count the Hours has plenty of the ingredients you'd expect a noir classic to feature. Sadly, it's let down by a drab screenplay by Karen Dewolf and a dull, Lon Chaney Jr.-style performance by John Craven as the falsely accused handy man. The film also suffers from a Louis Forbes score that features an overdone theremin theme whenever the real villain appears on the screen. Count the Hours looks great and also features good performances by Teresa Wright (in a role that seems tailor made for Patricia Neal) and Jack Elam, but on balance, it remains a frustrating though watchable failure.

A lawyer defends a migrant worker falsely accused of two murders.

What is interesting, first of all, is how the defendant is described as a "migrant worker". That is not incorrect, but I think perhaps the connotation in 1953 is different than in 2017, because now the term would almost exclusively be referring to a Latino employee. In fact, the United Nations defines a migrant worker as "a person who is engaged or has been engaged in a remunerated activity in a State of which he or she is not a national." This, more often than not, would be Mexican farmhands in the case of the United States.

Anyway, the film is quite good. I don't know if it was a feature or a B-movie, as it does give the impression of not having big names attached and perhaps a smaller budget. But for entertainment purposes and a but of suspense, it does the job. In retrospect, it also serves as a great example of early work from director Don Siegel.

Surprisingly interesting story for a B picture from the early fifties - this could have been made as a major feature if it was given a bigger budget and a director worthy of its plot developments. Sincere performances by Teresa Wright and McDonald Cary are well above the average but director Don Siegel is just not the right man for the job. The story by Doane Hoag has all the right twists and turns and holds the interest but needed more attention to detail and less clichéd handling. The music score was certainly different but seemed to have been lifted from a Si-Fi -'body snatcher' type movie.

If looking for a 50s time passer (with undeveloped possibilities) this is still worth a look. Prolific and inventive Award winning Hungarian cinematographer John Alton shows terrific flair for B/W photography and lighting - lifting this little crime meller to above average standards. The ending is typical of the era - but, still better than many other average B pictures.

Despite the economical running time, very much more of this unexceptional movie may well have felt like counting the hours as the finale approached.

Opening as a spine tingling creepshow, rapidly followed by gunfire and a double murder, 'Count the Hours' soon settles upon a pedestrian plateau as John Craven desperately pleads innocent of any crime, his case seriously damaged when panic stricken wife, Teresa Wright disposes of his gun in a nearby lake. The ensuing, protracted courtroom scene does little to reignite the adrenaline levels.

Sceptical, inexperienced lawyer, MacDonald Carey, is initially unwilling to take the case, until he spots Wright risking life and limb, repeatedly diving as she attempts to retrieve the gun. Carey is also confronted by the prevailing small town ethos (even evident amongst all the fun and games of My Cousin Vinny) in which everybody knows everybody else and nobody knows anybody who would ever do anything to hurt anyone.....Does that make sense? Therefore, Craven and Wright tick all the boxes as drifters, out- of- towners, new kids on the block, who simply MUST be guilty!

It's all rapidly rolling into the realms of rigmarole, until a much needed shot in the arm arrives in the form of loopy local loony, Jack Elam and his kooky, money grabbing, gold digging moll, Adele Mara. A femme fatale failure, whose feminine wiles fall foul of the unpredictable Elam and the reputable Carey.

'Count the Hours' has its moments, it's worth the time, but hardly the film noir fireball it promises to be at the start. Elam and Mara largely steal the show, well supported by the endearingly sincere, guilt ridden Wright. In contrast, neither Carey nor Craven radiate any significant on screen charisma, while Dolores Moran is serviceable as the bride to be. The movie always struggles to maintain momentum following its Wham-Bam-Thankyou-Mam launch. Perhaps it's just a bit too obvious, right down to Elam's name in the opening credits. Could you REALLY imagine him as a doting, favourite uncle, or the kindly family doctor?

A robber breaks into a farm house. He is confronted by the owner and ends up killing the elderly couple. George Braden and his wife Ellen (Teresa Wright) are the neighbors. After some questionable responses, George is arrested for the murders. Doug Madison (Macdonald Carey) takes the case despite not believing in George's innocence.

At first, I thought some of this plot goes too far. I don't want to nitpick but I can't believe that they couldn't find the gun. Everybody knows where she threw it. It's not a raging river. Then I relaxed about it and realized that it's more about the acting style. The movie is doing that old melodramatic style. Teresa Wright is a great actress, but she's using her skills to do her utmost overwrought acting. I actually grew to like the plot especially if they could tweak some of it. I can see it be remade into something better.