The Girl in Black Stockings (1957)

I suppose if I began a tradition of watching this once a year, I might find myself quoting some of the dime store novel sounding lines that a cast of newcomers and veterans get to spout. To their credit, they do it with a straight face, and many of them went on to other works right away, so it comes to reason that this didn't drive them to drink after it was all over. This is an exploitation murder melodrama with a future Oscar winning actress, a blonde bombshell Monroe rip-off and a declining 40's B queen. Then, there's one of the many screen Tarzan's, all together for the story of a character that you only see briefly as a corpse and find out that everybody had some reason to kill her, as well as several other murders that occur in very much the same grizzly way.Having been around with no real success on film, Anne Bancroft is the female star, not the murdered first victim, with Lex Barker as the dead girl's much abused ex who falls for the sweet Bancroft, filled with secrets of her own. Marie Windsor seems uncomfortable trying to retain her glamour, and although still striking, is overly made up which makes her age all the more obvious. Mamie Van Doren is the typical dumb bleached blonde, lacking the charisma of Marilyn, Jayne and even England's Diana Dors. Typical drug store crime magazine setups make this look oh so cheap, and the dialog is atrocious. There's a native American character who hates women and explodes on them while drunk. I felt sorry for this simple minded character and wanted further development on him rather than the stereotypical "drunken Indian" stigma. John Dehner is the law enforcer on the case, while Ron Randell plays another key figure. The ending comes out kg total left field. A strange mix to be sure.

The late 50's was a strange time for Movies. There were rumblings of an "expansion of consciousness" if you will, that resulted in attempts, like this one, to explore lurid, unmentionable gruesome violence (against Women), and sexual themes that were previously only barely hinted.If you were paying attention, it was obvious that the Arts were becoming a more liberal expression of primal urges (Rock n' Roll) that were always there but rarely talked about in polite company. So here we have this lackluster Serial Killer Movie that was just aching to escape from Studio and Audience conventions, but alas, it was not to be.The "grisly" Murders are very Ho-Hum, one if you can imagine, is just a guy being pushed into a swimming pool. The rest take place off screen. There is a lot of Psycho-Babble, the most scathing coming from a paralyzed hater of all Women. Some of this is slightly entertaining in a trashy kind of way, but not quite enough to save this stiff and incompetently Directed Movie.People talk and talk and say very little. The Sheriff's investigation is basically talk and talk, occasionally on the telephone, and everyone seems to have sunstroke rendering them immobility and inability to emote. This is a strange one at best, but at its worst is slowly paced, mostly uninteresting, and lacking any flare.

Notable for its eclectic cast and authentic setting, this odd little murder mystery has entertainment value in spite of itself. Set at (and filmed on location at) the Parry Lodge in Utah, it stars Barker as a handsome and tan ladies man who finds himself investigating the people around him when a young woman is found brutally slain. Before the murderer is caught, several others wind up six feet under. A particularly oddball batch of characters make up the list of suspects including Bancroft as Barker's mousy girlfriend, Randell as a paraplegic with a strong resentment towards loose women, Windsor as his overprotective sister and Holland as a somewhat lecherous movie producer. Other faces include Van Doren as a platinum blonde starlet, Dehner as the local sheriff, Van der Vlis as a fellow motel guest and Chance as a stone-faced, heavy-drinking Indian. The story is as pat and tawdry as any pulp paperback novel, though the murders and the sex all take place offscreen. The film is aided immeasurably by the location shooting around a real motel that is still in operation today (and was the favorite boarding choice of many old time Hollywood stars and crews who were using the surrounding terrain when filming movies.) Barker, a former Tarzan, is bronzed and strong, offering several glimpses of his physique in and around the pool. His acting is adequate and unspectacular. Bancroft gives a pretty tightly reined and low-key performance through most of the film. Randell is the exact opposite. Sporting a truly bizarre accent and over-acting horrendously at every opportunity, despite (or maybe even due to) his character's disability, he is frequently a source of unintentional giggles. Windsor fares better in her clichéd role of the loving sister, devoting herself to his every need. Dehner does a nice job as the ineffectual lawman while Van Doren camps it up in tight dresses and dark lips with her white hair cascading to one side. Chance is another one who creates laughter with his robotic, off-center portrayal of a man with a low station in life. Small roles are played by future stars Whitman as a concerned husband and Blocker as the lodge's bartender. There's nothing life-changing about this rather run-of-the-mill movie, but it offers some decent black and white photography and an intriguing assortment of actors, along with an ending that may surprise some viewers. All of this is only partially tarnished by what appears to be a never-ending tribute to some of the ugliest wallpaper in film history! Costumes are by The Pink Pussycat, a retail store located right there at the lodge! Incidentally, the title of the film has little or nothing to do with the plot or characters as they exist in the finished product.

What can you say about a movie whose three female stars are Anne Bancroft, Marie Windsor and Mamie Van Doren? Well, that none of them is used at anywhere near her full potential (except maybe Van Doren, the sum of whose potential is exhausted at first glimpse). And that's basically the problem with this little tailfins-era whodunit about a serial killer at a Utah mountain lodge. Its very real potential is never delivered. The characters and plot strands are handled perfunctorily, mechanically; they're interesting and offbeat but not satisfyingly developed, so the solution comes as a bad surprise and something of a cheat. Owner of the lodge, Ron Randell, is a psychosomatically paralyzed woman-hater nursed by his doting sister (Windsor). Les Barker (not to be confused with Les Baxter, who wrote the score!) loses no opportunity to display his physique poolside as a vacationing L.A. attorney who's wooing the diffident Bancroft. Van Doren does her platinum-blonde bombshell shtik and John Dehner, as the sheriff, seems to have wandered in from a Western shooting nearby. The movie looks good, in a simplified, populuxe way, and winds up like a better-than-average TV drama from circa 1957. Too bad: The Girl in Black Stockings had all the makings of a more interesting movie.