The Anderson Tapes

The Anderson Tapes (Sidney Lumet, 1971) The second of the five films that Sean Connery would ultimately make with Sidney Lumet, an unlikely pairing of the Scots actor and the New York director, but the two obviously enjoyed working together, as Connery's next project with him (The Offence) was one of the "vanity" projects he was allowed to make for returning to the role of James Bond in Diamonds Are Forever, and Lumet was Connery-picked to direct, no doubt in loyalty to the director, as their first project, The Hill, allowed the world to see that the star of the "007" films had a range that extended outside the spy field.

 

The Anderson Tapes, however, was a different creature, entirely. An extended heist film, in which Connery, Martin Balsam, and (introducing) Christopher Walken participate in what must be the slowest caper in history, the casing of a luxury apartment building in New York City. Connery plays Duke Anderson, a con just released from a ten year stretch in prison, who can't wait to do another score. The inspiration is his girlfriend Ingrid (Dyan Cannon), a high-end call-girl, who has been set up in a luxury apartment by another man.

But, things have changed in the ten years since Anderson was free. Unbeknownst to him, he is under constant surveillance by three different agencies: Ingrid's apartment is bugged by a private detective hired by her "keeper;" the FBI is tracking Black activists, whose headquarters is at a flop where the thieves meet; the IRS is phone-tapping the Mafia Boss (Alan King), who is funding the heist; and the Bureau of Narcotics is keeping tabs on one of the group's members. 

All of these groups are keeping a running record of the planning of the break-in...but none of them are coordinated or sharing information,  and the surveillance work is so concentrated on their individual subjects, that nothing is put together to prevent it from happening.  

 

It's hard to determine exactly what is being decried here—that our privacies are being invaded to such an extent, or that this intelligence isn't being cross-referenced to prevent actual crimes and thus is working to cross-purposes and is...dumb. One gets the impression that there is no stance being taken, rather that it's to present A Big Irony, that undercuts how events play out, eventually. 

But, that was Lumet's specialty—he frequently spaced his flat-out movie drama assignments with "Ironies," (as opposed to "Comedies") that, their point having been made half-way through the movie, wear out their welcome by the often dissatisfying end of the tale. Everybody looks a little stupid here: the agencies, for their tunnel-vision, the crooks for their own utter lack of surveillance as the crime goes about, and the NYPD, whose very elaborate storming of the apartment complex is literally over-the-top.

Lumet was not the best director for comedy as he had a tendency to sledge-hammer things—like Martin Balsam's mincing interior decorator/antiques smuggler (yeah, yeah, "it was the times," I suppose—prejudice always has "a time"), but there are some joys to be had, besides Connery doing something different and Walken's debut: appearances by Max Showalter, Margaret Hamilton (her last role), and "crazy old lady"(their own form of prejudice) Judith Lowry, as well as Ralph Meeker and SNL pioneer Garrett Morris as Gotham police.

Lumet would hit his stride later in the decade (with the sure editorial hand of Dede Allen), but this one is only moderately successful.

 

The Rise and Fall of Legs Diamond

Saturday is traditionally "Take Out the Trash" day...

The Rise and Fall of Legs Diamond (Budd Boetticher, 1960) It sucks that the first film I see of director Budd Boetticher's it's a film he didn't particularly like the results of. He got to do what he intended with the limited budget of a B movie, but casting left a bit to be desired. 

Boetticher was hoping to cast a young Robert Evans for the role of Diamond, but Evans, after toiling in the acting field for awhile with only a few roles to his credit, decided to parlay his fortune from selling ladies' apparel into the movie-producing field and this low-budget gangster movie wasn't something to coax him back.

It might have had something to do with the character. Evans had played Irving Thalberg and the titular Fiend Who Walked the West, but Jack "Legs" Diamond was a small-time bootlegger, thief, and protection racketeer, who was perfectly willing to con and throw over anybody in his desire to rise through the ranks of gangster-hoods. 

Boetticher has Diamond (Ray Danton) and his brother Eddie (Warren Oates!) arrive in The Big Apple with intents to do some petty thievery, but witnessing a botched jewel-heist with the perp gets popped, Diamond scans the building, notices a rooftop entrance and starts to divine a plan. He picks up a dance-hall girl (Karen Steele), who rebuffs him because she's going to be in a dance-competition that night. He waits outside her flat for her partner and fractures his foot, then takes his place. The two win the competition—by Diamond setting the dress of the better couple's female half on fire—and go out for a celebratory movie.

Diamond ditches the girl in the theater for a stretch, making his way to the gents' and going out the window to second-story the jewelry store, dropping in from the roof. He nearly gets away with it, but he's ultimately convicted of the crime and goes to prison, where he spends his time planning his next step—by robbing the type of people who wouldn't call the police, that being gangsters. He sets his sights on Arnold Rothstein (Robert Lowery), who refuses to see such a small-fry as Diamond.

But, Diamond gets his attention by finding out Rothstein's personal account and charging $4,000 worth of goods to it. Diamond is hauled before Rothstein, who'd just as soon shoot him as make him his bodyguard, but Diamond gets a stay of execution when a hood-buddy of the big man takes a liking to Diamond, admiring his chutzpah, and signing him on as his hired gun. Doesn't go too well, though. The mobster and Diamond get gunned down, with Diamond somehow surviving and beginning to think that he can't be killed and becomes emboldened to climb higher.

Rothstein does hire Diamond for bodyguard duty—as he seems to be so successful at it (!) and Diamond uses the opportunity to also become his bag-man, as well, with a particularly rough way of collecting protection money for his boss. He sleeps with whichever moll can get him information, with the ultimate aim of charging the gang-bosses for his protection, something that doesn't go over to well among the thugs.

Boetticher's movie is bare-bones as far as budget, but he manages to keep the 20's setting fairly believable—Warner Brothers was the studio bankrolling it and they had a surplus of get-ups, gats, and jalopies, but the film has the thin veneer of Desilu's "The Untouchables" TV program all over it. something it has in kin with the Arnold Rothstein movie King of the Roaring 20's, made around the same period...about the same period. But, Diamond is such a louse in every way to everybody that Danton's smug demeanor only makes you like the creep less. The best movie villains have a style and swagger that, at least, can be entertaining (think Cagney), but Danton has none of it. Oh, he can wear the clothes...but so can a mannequin. The movie's just a little too set-bound, and set-lit to be very interesting, although Boetticher does try his damnedest.  It's the star that makes it such a stiff.