25 minuti con la morte

What I liked about "Dial 1119" is that it's basically ignored as an example of film noir yet, for a film made in 1950, this thing was ahead of its time. First off, there's a big-screen TV in the bar, which plays an important part in advancing the plot. The folks who made this picture also foresaw the role that TV news would come to play in taking over a story. Good cast with William ("Cannon") Conrad as Chuckles the bartender, Leon ("Mr. Ed") Ames and Marshall ("Daktari") Thompson as the central character, our friendly neighborhood psycho. Finally, you've got a love a film noir selection that takes place in Terminal City.

This seldom seen, nearly forgotten gem stands out as a precursor to many movie motifs now taken for granted. A deranged young man, Gunther Wyckoff (whacko with a gun, played menacingly by Marshall Thompson in perhaps his best performance), shoots a city bus driver with the driver's own pistol, then holds up in a local bar using the patrons as hostages. In those long ago days when such occurrences were rare, there were no professional police negotiators. Ironically, Wyckoff does his own negotiating with the law, demanding to see the psychiatrist that is in charge of treating him.

What a crew of hostages: A barfly willing to bed anyone who buys her a drink, an old married fool making arrangements for a weekend tryst with a sweet young thing, a young man whose wife is in delivery at the hospital, a zealous reporter whose newspaper editor thinks he's a joke, and Chuckles, the bartender, played by the dour William Conrad of radio's "Gunsmoke" and later TV's "Cannon" fame. Maybe he got his moniker for being the opposite of chuckles, such as calling a big guy, Tiny. The interaction of this motley crew with each other and with the criminally insane killer makes up the biggest part of the flick. An alternate title was "The Violent Hour," which basically describes the plot of the film, approximately an hour's standoff between the psycho and the police who work to free the hostages unharmed. A young André Previn provides the appropriate atmospheric music.

What a splendid cast. Even workhorse Charles Lane, who is today 101 and says he is still available to do a show, is seen briefly on the tube in a man-on-the-street interview. And don't blink and miss June Cleaver (Barbara Billingsley) in a walk on part.

Items you don't see around anymore: A cigarette machine, a weight scale on the sidewalk, a pay telephone that costs a nickle to dial 1119 (no push buttons). Items that were curiosities at the time but are now part of everyday life: A flat-panel big screen TV, TV news hype, and, alas, crazies that for no reason shoot patrons who are total strangers.

The chosen title, "Dial 1119," which today reminds the viewer of "Call 911," is a fitting one. Labeling the location Terminal City, however, is a bit much.

Back in 1936, Leslie Howard and Humphrey Bogart starred in a tough little film based on their play by the same name. Howard is a nice drifter who just happens to walk into a desert restaurant/filling station at the same time a wanted mobster and his henchmen arrive. And, through most of the film, these crooks terrorize the patrons and make them fear for their lives. This sort of plot has been repeated several times in the 1950s with "Suddenly", "The Desperate Hours" and this film, "Dial 1119".

The major difference with "Dial 9111" and these other films is that instead of a criminal holding everyone hostage, it's an escaped mental patient--a guy who has no compunction about killing people with his stolen gun. Seeing this guy with a baby face is particularly striking. And, to make it a lot more creepy than these other films, he does so with absolutely no emotion--none! The bar is made up of a variety of patrons (some of which have interesting back stories--like the creep played by Leon Ames) as well as the amazingly blunt and rude bartender, 'Chuckles' (William Conrad).

Once the guy begins shooting people in the bar, there isn't a lot the police can do--he might be insane but he's also smart and has figured all the angles--and police are afraid to do anything lest all the captives be killed. The film then, is a very tense standoff--on with brutal violence, great tension and a lot to offer with such a low-budget film. Well worth your time.

An engaging film despite a thin story line involving a psycho who's taken five hostages in a down-scale local bar. In Dial 1119, as in so many noir films, the locations, sets, and artifacts, are usually more interesting than the plot line. For me, the most remarkable feature of this film is the prominent TV set in the bar where most of the action takes place (the sport being watched is pro-wrestling). The bartender at one point claims it's 3 ft by 4 ft which would make it pretty large for a black and white 1950 TV anywhere. The TV though is more than a prop--it often dominates the screen and begins to take on a key role in the film when a TV reporter and camera crew from the cleverly named station WKYL arrive to cover the police rescue action, which is then seen broadcast on the bar TV. Not only is the TV now internally competing with the Motion Picture, but this must be a very early movie scene detailing TV news coverage. To make matters more interesting, one of the hostages is a disgruntled newspaper editor and so the film also depicts what will become a growing competition between TV and print journalism.

You know the audience is in for a bumpy ride when the all-night bus arrives in a place called Terminal City. Actually it's the luckless driver who ends up terminated, with a slug in the belly from ungrateful, wacko passenger Gunther Wykoff (Thompson) who has not yet learned how to blink or turn his head. So, now the crazy guy is loose in the city, headed for a late night bar sporting that new-fangled invention called television. (I suspect this 1950 production was one of the first to integrate TV into the storyline.) There, he holds hostage a motley crew of barflies who, needless to say, don't help his condition at all. He'd like to whack 'em all, but first he has to meet with his head-doctor (Levene) who's obviously done a pretty rotten job so far. Meanwhile, the cops, a TV crew, and a few hundred on-lookers have taken a real interest in Gunther's where-abouts and are waiting outside to greet him if he ever comes out. So, the stage is set, but how will it play out.

This may be big-budget MGM's cheapest production on record (basically one set and a $20 lighting bill), but they do get their money's worth. This suspenseful little crime drama is well acted and packs a pretty good punch. Baby-faced Thompson plays against type and is excellent in the pivotal role of the stare-happy wacko. William Conrad is a stand-out too, as the no-nonsense barkeep, but I guess it's only logical that he would have to exit early— too bad. On the other hand, make-out artist Earl (Ames) and the classy what's-she-doing-in- this-dump Helen (King) are none too believable, and I kept hoping Gunther would spare us the bad seduction dialog and put a fist in Earl's syrupy mouth. Apparently, young father Skip (Brasselle) was added so there would be at least one sympathetic person among the collection of compromised characters. Anyway, it's a good, tight little B-film, with the novel idea (for its time) that movies and TV might get along, after all.