aka Third Party Risk

• Directed by Daniel Birt
• Written by Daniel Birt and Robert Dunbar, based on the novel Third Party Risk by Nicholas Bentley
• Starring
  • Lloyd Bridges
  • Simone Silva
  • Finlay Currie
  • Maureen Swanson
  • Ferdy Mayne
• Produced by Robert Dunbar

This film does have one point of novelty compared to the other Robert Lippert/ Hammer Films American/British co-productions: part of the story is set in Spain. Not actually shot in Spain, of course; the Spanish scenes are obviously shot on a soundstage, with bits of stock footage thrown in for local color. But at least the partial Spanish setting opens up the standard “American ex-pat in Britain” backdrop of so many of the Lippert/Hammer films.

Oh, the main character? Yeah, he’s an American ex-pat living in London: Philip Graham (the inestimable Lloyd Bridges), a former RAF pilot who stuck around the blessed realm as a songwriter, an occupation which combines a flexible schedule with sufficient means to move around the plot unencumbered by the need to make a living. As the movie opens, Graham has just arrived at a hotel in Spain for a vacation — not the one in which he was planning on staying, but one which was recommended by old RAF buddy Tony Roscoe (Peter Dyneley), whom he just happened to run into in Spain after not having seen him since the war years.

“Boy, this is a LOT better than the Motel 6 where I had reservations!”

At the hotel, he immediately meets just about everybody who’ll be important to the plot to come, and all of whom conveniently divide their time between Spain and England: singer Mitzi Molnaur (Simone Silva, who “dahlinks” like all three of the Gabor sisters rolled into one), Mitzi’s theatrical producer Maxwell Carey (Ferdy Mayne), Mitzi’s fiance Mr. Darius (Finlay Currie, trying his darnedest to channel Sydney Greenstreet), and Darius’ niece Marina (Maureen Swanson), the designated love interest by virtue of her being innocent and virginal. It sounds like a dumb pickup line to say that Graham woos her by playing for you the Spanish folk songs he’s collected on his reel-to-reel recorder, but it’s the truth. He collects folk song and she collects folk dances, which she demonstrates to help fill out the scant running time; it’s a match made in heaven!

Their little courtship of convenience is cut short by a plea from Roscoe to Graham; Roscoe needs to fly back in London on business suddenly, and he needs Graham to drop him at the airport and then drive Roscoe’s car back to England for him. Also, the safe at the hotel can’t be opened for a couple of days because the owner’s wife took the wrong set of keys on a trip, so could Graham also bring an envelope which Roscoe left in the safe? Well, shucks, that’s what old RAF buddies are for.

“Well, whaddaya know — a Tomato Hall of Fame!”

Graham gets his first clue (or an occasion for one) when, on the way back from the airport in Roscoe’s car, he gets jumped by two carloads of toughs and knocked out. They don’t take the car or Graham’s wallet, but Graham’s so slow on the uptake that he has to have Police Detective Gonzalez (Roger Delgado — the first actor to play The Master!) point out to him how unusual that is. Maybe, perhaps, the hoodlums had intended Roscoe to be their target?

Graham is pretty phlegmatic about, and after a couple more days with Marina, mutually falling into each other’s eyes, he drives Roscoe’s car back to London and phones him to arrange a drop-off time for the car and the envelope. When Graham gets to Roscoe’s flat, there’s no answer, but he can see the shadow of feet under the door. He creeps in through the window to find love letters burning in the fireplace… and Roscoe, dead in his home darkroom.

“I’ll have mine with cream, no sugar, and three microfilms.”

Graham finds himself involved in a whodunit with a McGuffin thrown in besides. Was it Mitzi the singer who killed Roscoe to cover up her affair with him — an affair evidenced by the love letters that Graham rescued from the fire? Was Roscoe blackmailing her? The envelope contains microfilmed documents from a pharmaceutical company labeled “top secret”; were these also blackmail fodder, or was Roscoe the middleman in an industrial espionage scheme? And if so, who was the buyer supposed to be? Will Graham ever show any inclination toward songwriting, that being his stated profession? Heck, I didn’t even see a piano in the man’s apartment.

It’s a short feature (62 minutes all told), so with the necessary time devoted to setup there isn’t much room for twisty-turnies in the plot. The people who seemed shadowy when first introduced turn out to be exactly that shadowy. There are some fights, some heavy-duty vamping by Mitzi, and the necessary but pointless appearance of a police inspector and sergeant on Graham’s doorstep; they disappear long before the climax. (I’m starting to suspect that inclusion of the local gendarmerie was a contractual condition of these productions, or at the very least was strongly encouraged by the local government; even if the police have nothing to do with solving the crime and bringing the guilty to justice, it engender lack of confidence to have them entirely absent from a story involving murder, I suppose.)

Two guys duking it out while wearing trenchcoats!  How could you get any more noir than that?

As a light noirish thriller, it’s not too bad, but I think it’s a little too devoted to being light and avoiding high drama. The worst symptom of that avoidance (and technically this qualifies as a spoiler, if you care) is that Marina is completely uninvolved in the nefarious goings-on. Her uncle Mr. Darius is naturally involved up to the ying-yang, but Graham’s courtship of Marina remains entirely unencumbered by suspicion, conflicting motives, or any of the other hallmarks of drama. Nor, for all her vamping, does Mitzi ever compromise Graham’s honor either. It’s as if the filmmakers wanted to include some surface elements of noir, but leave out any of the emotional conflict which animates the better examples of the genre. That keeps this a small tale told on a small scale.

Early experiments in the development of in-flight movies.

Ah, well. As a programmer destined for the lower slot of a double-bill, it’s inoffensively competent and mildly engaging, which was the goal of this caliber of production. Lloyd Bridges is of course professional in his role (though a little avuncular to be the bon vivant bachelor who takes it upon himself to solve his old buddy’s murder), and none of the others in the cast look very bad in comparison, either. Forgettably professional? I don’t think that’s an insulting label, especially because no one involved with making the movie ever dreamed that someone would be devoting time to its analysis fifty-odd years later.

Some Notable Totables:

• body count: 3
• breasts: 0
• explosions: 0
• ominous thunderstorms: 0
• actors who’ve appeared on Star Trek: 0
• actors who’ve appeared on Doctor Who: 2