A Loucura de Mimi

This is a reasonably faithful adaptation of the 1949 novel by Fredric Brown. Reasonably, that is, by 1950s Hollywood standards -- all of the essential story elements are there, although most of the subtleties of the novel are missing. For instance, Sweeney the reporter (Philip Carey) spends most of the novel in a constant hangover, having just come off a drunken binge; and the true relationship between Yolanda (Anita Eckberg) and Greene (Harry Townes), made explicit in the film's opening scenes, isn't revealed until the end of the novel. This is largely because the film presents the story in a straightforward, linear fashion, whereas in the novel, such vital information comes out gradually, via Sweeney's investigations. The film also, understandably, tones down the more lewd elements of the novel: Yolanda's strip-tease becomes merely an exotic dance.

I can't help wondering what Alfred Hitchcock would have done with this story. Hitchcock was certainly familiar with Brown's work -- four of his stories were adapted for the TV series ALFRED HITCHCOCK PRESENTS ("The Cream of the Jest", "The Night the World Ended", "The Dangerous People", and "Human Interest Story"). If Hitchcock had directed THE SCREAMING MIMI, it would surely have become a classic on a par with PSYCHO.

As others have commented here, I strongly recommend reading Fredric Brown's original novel. (I re-read it recently, just before seeing the film for the first time.) Brown was a very prolific writer of mystery and science fiction from the 40s through the 60s. (He died in 1972.) He was a master of the short-short story, and of the surprise twist ending. Though most of his works are currently out of print, they can easily be found on eBay or abe.com.

A footnote: The book NIGHTMARE IN DARKNESS, a limited edition of previously uncollected Fredric Brown stories, includes the original, unpublished ending of the novel, in which Sweeney is actually killed by the Ripper.

ANITA EKBERG almost sleepwalks through her role of a disturbed woman who somehow finds herself in the midst of murder and mayhem in SCREAMING MIMI ('58), the title referring to a statue that is some sort of fetish that turns up at every killing. Miss Ekberg is also a statue here, towering above most of the cast except for PHILIP CAREY, the handsome male lead who shares one thing in common with Anita--he's a lifeless presence.

It's hard to get involved with these characters, especially since the story itself is a murky enough affair with some psycho-babble underpinnings in the convoluted storyline. On the plus side, the B&W photography of rainswept streets and dark shadows is impressive and the production aspects aren't too shabby.

GYPSY ROSE LEE manages to be lively enough as a nightclub proprietress, but her shimmy to "Put the Blame On Mame" is a pretty sorry attempt at the song made famous by Rita Hayworth.

The story starts out on a promising note, but quickly becomes an inept psychological thriller under Gerd Oswald's routine direction and moves toward a conclusion that lacks whatever punch it might have had because much of the disclosed information was already revealed.

This is an easily forgotten item that capitalizes solely on ANITA EKBERG's physical charms which are an eyeful for male fans but her acting is sub-par for a story that requires much more from an actress than mere physical presence and an overly generous bosom. She was much more fortunate a few years later to find herself in "La Dolce Vita". As for PHILIP CAREY, his stone-faced approach to acting doesn't help matters here.

Summing up: Hopelessly confusing and dull, when it should have been tight and suspenseful.

This film could be considered one of the missing links between American film noir and the suspense and horror films that would become so popular in continental Europe over the next two decades (i.e. the German "krimis", the Italian "gialli", the horror films of Bava and Argento). It's technically a late period film noir, but rather than having the traditional pessimistic tone and hard-boiled, voice-over narrative, it is completely off-the-wall and chock-full of the suggested depravity and lurid psycho-babble that would characterize the later European films. Interestingly, it was apparently based on the same Fredric Brown novel as Dario Argento's "Bird with Crystal Plummage" (although at least one of these movie was obviously only loosely based on the source novel because they don't really resemble each other too much). It also features European sex symbol Anita Ekberg as a voluptuous stripper (who looks like she could eat Edwige Fenech or one of the other later European sex kittens). Rare for the time, it even has a psycho-killer, called "The Ripper", who leaves the epononymous "screaming mimi" dolls next to his/her butchered female victims. Not a great movie perhaps, but I really dug it.

Screaming Mimi is directed by Gerd Oswald and adapted to screenplay by Robert Bless from the novel written by Fredric Brown. It stars Anita Ekberg, Phillip Carey, Gypsy Rose Lee and Harry Townes. Music is by Mischa Bakaleinikoff and cinematography by Burnett Guffey.

A woman becomes mentally unbalanced after a failed knife attack by a psychotic and has to spend time in a sanatorium. Whilst there she becomes the object of her psychiatrist obsessions.

Great Dame With A Great Dane!

A curio psychological film noir with horror leanings, Screaming Mimi is just a tad too nutty for its own good. It's also weighed down by a non performance from Ekberg, who you find is purely in the piece to tantalise via her voluptuous body, and also by a colourless performance by Carey. Yet it's a fascinating movie, a sort of car crash piece of cinema that you can't take your eyes away from!

Psycho Schematic.

It's all very lurid, sexy and bonkers, the sort of picture where alcoholic accompaniments would most likely improve the viewing experience tenfold. The characters inhabiting this world are a strange bunch, which is fun, whilst when you got entertainment establishments called Gay "N" Frisky and El Madhouse, you just know we are trawling through an off kilter city of sin and carnal desires. Unfortunately Oswald and Bless seem confused about what to do with all the provocative possibilities, rendering the narrative as confused and at times lifeless.

Rose Lee is great though as she flits between manipulator and sultry proprietor, as is Townes, who underpins the whiff of mania running through the pics veins. Guffey and Bakaleinikoff offer up solid tech work, and the jazzy strains provided by Red Norvo are most welcome. It really should have been a great movie though, such promise in story and set-ups, but sadly it ends up as a faux Freudian potboiler. 5/10

How did I miss this drive-in special back in 1958 when I hit those passion pits weekly. Yeah, it's lurid to the max, but it's also got some kinky touches carefully hidden during the Age of Ike when sex was summed up by Debbie and Eddie. Note the not-so-subtle innuendo that Lee's character has more interest in the cigarette girl than in handsome stud Carey. And what is that s&m chain doing on Ekberg's wrists as she writhes around during her so-called stage act, which we get to see not once but twice as though we may not have believed it the first time around. Then too, what's with Towne's kinky doctor who can't seem to decide just which of Ekberg's startling features he's most interested in. And finally, how did this bit of bizzaro escape the confines of a respectable studio, Columbia, and the co-producing team of Brown and Fellows. Say what you will, despite the sleaze, this low-budget piece of 50's movie-making has more inherent interest than 90% of its bigger contemporaries.

I expect cult director Gerd Oswald is responsible for taking up the challenge and turning what could have been a routine crime drama into a genuine curiosity piece. Just watch his direction of the movie's centerpiece, and I don't mean Ekberg's Amazonian proportions-- in fact, her best scenes are those standing around looking comatose. No, this is familiar character actor Harry Towne's masterpiece. He was always good at slightly off-center characters, but here he out-does himself, delivering a masterfully kinky performance that really defies description. I've seen nothing quite like it in years of movie watching. Just what is going on inside those many tormented expressions. Watch the scene where he stands outside the colloquy between Carey and Ekberg when she must decide where her allegiance lies. Note the subtle array of emotions that react to what is being said. He could have just stood there and picked up his paycheck, but he didn't. Instead he created one of the more interesting obsessions to appear on the big screen in some time. I hope there's a special place in Hollywood heaven for unsung actors like Towne who deliver so much and get back so little. Anyhow the movie remains an interesting piece of esoterica, even if the title likely drove away more people than it brought in.