Le ballet du désir

When I first read Fredric Brown's 1948 novel, I was mesmerized. I have read it a few times since and have no intention of stopping-- it's really one of those forgotten classics of the hardboiled genre. Also being a Fellini fan, I have long been curious to see the film, Anita Ekberg's first starring role, (La Dolce Vita was two years later.) I know that Fellini was a pretty big fan of Brown-- at one point he planned to adapt his sci-fi novel What Mad Universe-- so I'm pretty sure he discovered Ekberg in this film.

Though I think the above reviewer was kind of harsh on Oswald and the cast-- especially Harry Townes, who understates the creepy obsessiveness of Doc Greene very well-- the fact is the movie falls short of the book by a considerable margin. I would put most of the blame on screenwriter Robert Blees, who had previously scripted the giant monster movie The Black Scorpion. But for all its faults (unfortunately, the ending is one of the things they botched) the film has its charms. Not only the cinematography but the music performed by Red Norvo captures the mood of the novel very well. And there are scenes that they actually get right. So I guess it's a love/hate thing for me.

Before I go, one last sidelight. Gypsy Rose Lee, who's featured in Mimi, was an exotic dancer in the forties and wrote one novel, The G-String Murders-- also about a killer who stalks strippers-- which was adapted as Lady of Burlesque, with Barbara Stanwyck.

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.

One of the 1950s strangest noir films, Gerd Oswald's sensational and twisted 1958 psycho- shocker SCREAMING MIMI was based on a pulp novel by the great Fredric Brown. This is one film that devotees of the truly bizarre cannot afford to miss.

Alcoholic newspaper columnist Bill Sweeney (Philip Carey) becomes entwined in a string of grisly murders that seem to revolve around exotic stripper Yolanda Lange (Anita Ekberg!!). Seems that Yolanda killed a man a couple of years earlier who tried to attack her while she showered. Traumatized by this event, she spends some time in a sanitarium and, upon her release, seeks out the help of psychiatrist Dr. Greenwood (the ever creepy Harry Townes) for some quick and dirty therapy. This "poor man's Svengali" falls in love with her (natch!) and soon insinuates himself into her life, even going so far as managing her career by getting her a job at the El Madhouse, a seedy nightclub run by "Gypsy" Mapes ("Gypsy" Rose Lee!). But before long a series of brutal murders begin to occur and poor Yolanda appears to be the prime suspect. (I won't bother to go into the reasons why; it would probably take longer than the running time of the film.)

Anyone looking for or concerned with conventional logic might likely be put off by this wildly lurid and threadbare melodrama as nothing quite makes sense in this demented Fulleresque nether world. But those hungry for the wonderful cheap thrills only to be found in nightmare B movies of the fringe variety will probably come away from the table more than satisfied. Artfully photographed by Burnett Guffey, SCREAMING MIMI probably looks a lot better than it deserves to, and Gerd Oswald's eccentric direction doesn't hurt either. Oswald, as many might recall, later went on to produce and direct many of the more stellar episodes of TV's "Outer Limits" in the early 60s. SCREAMING MIMI provided him with the most stunningly perfect testing ground imaginable.

Of note to jazz fans: the incredible Red Norvo Trio is featured as the house band at the El Madhouse.

Somehow surmounting a creaky script rooted in some crackpot psychiatry, Screaming Mimi creates a somnambulistic, doom-laden mood that keeps you watching, bemused. And that's not easily explained.

The director, Gerd Oswald, was one of the lesser expatriates from Germany, a pedestrian workman who the year before helmed Crime of Passion, a jejune noir starring Barbara Stanwyck, Sterling Hayden and Raymond Burr; it's hard to extinguish the sizzle in that kind of cast, but Oswald did a pretty fair job of it.

In Screaming Mimi, he was saddled with the sort of rounded-up cast that doesn't incite box office stampedes. Anita Ekberg, - the Swedish bombshell with the storied bosom - proves oddly affecting in the numbed-out role she's called on to play. And society stripper Gypsy Rose Lee supplies a welcome bit of sass as proprietress of a nightclub called El Madhouse. But the male leads emerged from the La Brea tar pits of Hollywood anonymity. Philip Carey passes as sort of a poor man's Gary Merrill (that is to say, absolutely penniless), while Harry Townes, an even more faceless actor, makes up the roster.

The plot? Ekberg, an exotic `dancer' who writhes about suggestively in an act with bondage overtones, is visiting her sculptor-stepbrother on the California coast when she's almost knifed by an escapee from a nearby asylum, whom the brother promptly shoots dead. In consequence, Ekberg winds up in the selfsame asylum where her smitten shrink (Townes) arranges her release and, in a development reminiscent of The Blue Angel or Sunset Boulevard, leaves his post to manage her career (as `Yolanda Lang').

Then one night she's stabbed (again), but her vicious great dane wards off the attacker. Carey, a columnist whose curiously broad beat includes night clubs and crime in the night, grows intrigued, and stumbles onto the fact that both Ekberg and an earlier victim possessed strange statuettes called Screaming Mimis....

It's a jumble, all right, but it manages to hold some interest. A large part of the credit must, by default, fall to top-notch cinematographer Burnett Guffey, by far the most talented factor in the movie. (He films one scene in the light from a flashing neon sign, alternating between a two-shot and daringly long intervals of pitch blackness.) The movie shares a restive, oneiric quality with certain low-budget noirs from a decade earlier, that again compelled more attention than they deserved. Go figure.

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