Post by Eddie Love on Nov 7, 2010 19:51:42 GMT -5
Though Blake Edwards’ reputation today is largely based on his many comedies, chief among them The Pink Panther pictures, he started out in radio, cranking out scripts for detective series. Eventually he created the offbeat classic Richard Diamond as a vehicle for Dick Powell. Diamond was a wisecracking gumshoe and, having nothing to do with that week’s storyline, he would break into song at the end of each show. (I’ve heard one of these online where Powell, during a live broadcast, gets completely mixed up in the song and asks the band to start over.) When heard today, the Diamond shows are also pretty novel, as the culprit is often a motive-less serial killer – something you never heard on other shows that featured more conventional whodunits.
Richard Diamond was adapted for TV in the 50s with David Jansen in the role and, to cash in on the craze, Edwards set to work creating a new private eye for the small screen. And a humorous shamus wasn’t the only similarity his new series would have with its radio precursor. Edwards wanted the show’s look and feel and, most importantly – sound, to reflect the cool jazz vibe of the West Coast of the day. The result was the landmark series Peter Gunn, and years later even those who’ve never seen a single episode could recognize the theme song, a piece of music also familiar to people who never even knew there was a series at all.
The eponymous hero was a dapper P.I. who worked the dark streets of an unnamed town. He hung out at Mother’s the waterfront jazz dive were his blonde doll Edie sang with a combo. Gunn frequently worked his cases alongside police officer Lt. Jacoby.
I read an interview with a jazz enthusiast who noted that before Peter Gunn, when you heard jazz on the soundtrack of a movie or TV show, “someone was about to steal a car.” The series was instrumental in changing that attitude and mainstreaming cool jazz in America. The show also ushered in a host of imitators, including the East Coast variation Johnny Staccato with John Cassevetes, as well as 77 Sunset Strip, Hawaiian Eye, Surfside Six and Bourbon Street Beat.
The series ran for three seasons, but with Edwards’s muscle as filmmaker he was able to adapt it to the big-screen towards the end of the 60s, as GUNN. What was cutting edge for TV in the late fifties is hopelessly, if quaintly, square by the 1967. And if you’re unfamiliar with the Gunn series, you’ll be quickly lost watching the film. But if you’re into the show, or just want to have a loose good time, you’ll find it here.
The plot has Peter investigating the gangland hit at sea of a mobster who once saved Gunn’s life. The chief suspects include the madam of a floating brothel and a rival mobster who wants Gunn to prove him innocent – or be killed if he fails! For a film that doesn’t cover a lot of ground or include that many characters, things get pretty tangled by the end. Gunn has one of those long monologues where he explains things in a final confrontation with the killer that I gave up any chance of following about halfway into it.
Craig Stevens in the title role is the only actor from the series to return for the film. The gorgeous Lola Albright who played Edie in the series is replaced by the pleasant but nondescript Laura Devon. One of the most impressive aspects of the series when seen today is the performance of Hershel Bernardi (the voice of both Charlie the Tuna and the Jolly Green Giant!) as Jacoby. He was a really compelling, almost Bogart-ian presence. Cast instead, is the great Ed Asner in an early starring role and he effectively conveys the same laconic style. Indeed, there are whole scenes where he takes over doing most of the detective work, and he’s fun to watch. (It’s also interesting to note that the first episode of the series, which the film borrows considerably from, starred Gavin McLeod as the gangland heavy!)
As Gunn, Craig Stevens is impeccably coiffed. Really -- his hair simply doesn’t move. He’s the embodiment of a kind of somnambulant cool. He’s like Don Draper, but without any sense that there’s some inner turmoil percolating beneath the natty attire. (This unflappable facade has to be the template that Stephen J. Cannell was trying to muss up when he crafted the character of Jim Rockford.) But when Gunn drops by a hippie, beatnik hangout whose denizens start to hassle him, you’ll have no problem rooting for Peter. Also, Stevens is pretty game in the film’s scenes of bedroom farcical interludes between Gunn and a knockout younger babe who keeps cropping up and fouling things between him and Edie. There are some broader comic supporting characters that are a bit irritating, but there’s also some quick-witted banter. My favorite is the cliché scene of Gunn returning to his car to find – only after he’s climbed behind the wheel and started the engine – a gunsel with a heater pointed at his back. “You drive. I’ve been drinking” the deadpan guy tells him.
For the most part GUNN plays like a smart and crisply stylish episode of a TV series from the period, although there are some violent bits towards the end and a not wholly believable “shocking” reveal about one of the characters. And while Henry Mancini shows up for a brief cameo, I would have expected a bit more music in the scenes or on the soundtrack. Still, GUNN is all-around pretty irresistibly laid-back cool.
This film has been long out of circulation; it’s one of those titles fans have been jonesing for a DVD release of. Even in the full-screen version (with French language titles!) that you can stream from Netflix, the film of GUNN has a smooth, tidy and elegant look. Culturally, it seems like a final salvo from the 50s generation's idea of cool, making way for the ascendant baby boomers. They even find some musical common ground in the closing scenes!
Richard Diamond was adapted for TV in the 50s with David Jansen in the role and, to cash in on the craze, Edwards set to work creating a new private eye for the small screen. And a humorous shamus wasn’t the only similarity his new series would have with its radio precursor. Edwards wanted the show’s look and feel and, most importantly – sound, to reflect the cool jazz vibe of the West Coast of the day. The result was the landmark series Peter Gunn, and years later even those who’ve never seen a single episode could recognize the theme song, a piece of music also familiar to people who never even knew there was a series at all.
The eponymous hero was a dapper P.I. who worked the dark streets of an unnamed town. He hung out at Mother’s the waterfront jazz dive were his blonde doll Edie sang with a combo. Gunn frequently worked his cases alongside police officer Lt. Jacoby.
I read an interview with a jazz enthusiast who noted that before Peter Gunn, when you heard jazz on the soundtrack of a movie or TV show, “someone was about to steal a car.” The series was instrumental in changing that attitude and mainstreaming cool jazz in America. The show also ushered in a host of imitators, including the East Coast variation Johnny Staccato with John Cassevetes, as well as 77 Sunset Strip, Hawaiian Eye, Surfside Six and Bourbon Street Beat.
The series ran for three seasons, but with Edwards’s muscle as filmmaker he was able to adapt it to the big-screen towards the end of the 60s, as GUNN. What was cutting edge for TV in the late fifties is hopelessly, if quaintly, square by the 1967. And if you’re unfamiliar with the Gunn series, you’ll be quickly lost watching the film. But if you’re into the show, or just want to have a loose good time, you’ll find it here.
The plot has Peter investigating the gangland hit at sea of a mobster who once saved Gunn’s life. The chief suspects include the madam of a floating brothel and a rival mobster who wants Gunn to prove him innocent – or be killed if he fails! For a film that doesn’t cover a lot of ground or include that many characters, things get pretty tangled by the end. Gunn has one of those long monologues where he explains things in a final confrontation with the killer that I gave up any chance of following about halfway into it.
Craig Stevens in the title role is the only actor from the series to return for the film. The gorgeous Lola Albright who played Edie in the series is replaced by the pleasant but nondescript Laura Devon. One of the most impressive aspects of the series when seen today is the performance of Hershel Bernardi (the voice of both Charlie the Tuna and the Jolly Green Giant!) as Jacoby. He was a really compelling, almost Bogart-ian presence. Cast instead, is the great Ed Asner in an early starring role and he effectively conveys the same laconic style. Indeed, there are whole scenes where he takes over doing most of the detective work, and he’s fun to watch. (It’s also interesting to note that the first episode of the series, which the film borrows considerably from, starred Gavin McLeod as the gangland heavy!)
As Gunn, Craig Stevens is impeccably coiffed. Really -- his hair simply doesn’t move. He’s the embodiment of a kind of somnambulant cool. He’s like Don Draper, but without any sense that there’s some inner turmoil percolating beneath the natty attire. (This unflappable facade has to be the template that Stephen J. Cannell was trying to muss up when he crafted the character of Jim Rockford.) But when Gunn drops by a hippie, beatnik hangout whose denizens start to hassle him, you’ll have no problem rooting for Peter. Also, Stevens is pretty game in the film’s scenes of bedroom farcical interludes between Gunn and a knockout younger babe who keeps cropping up and fouling things between him and Edie. There are some broader comic supporting characters that are a bit irritating, but there’s also some quick-witted banter. My favorite is the cliché scene of Gunn returning to his car to find – only after he’s climbed behind the wheel and started the engine – a gunsel with a heater pointed at his back. “You drive. I’ve been drinking” the deadpan guy tells him.
For the most part GUNN plays like a smart and crisply stylish episode of a TV series from the period, although there are some violent bits towards the end and a not wholly believable “shocking” reveal about one of the characters. And while Henry Mancini shows up for a brief cameo, I would have expected a bit more music in the scenes or on the soundtrack. Still, GUNN is all-around pretty irresistibly laid-back cool.
This film has been long out of circulation; it’s one of those titles fans have been jonesing for a DVD release of. Even in the full-screen version (with French language titles!) that you can stream from Netflix, the film of GUNN has a smooth, tidy and elegant look. Culturally, it seems like a final salvo from the 50s generation's idea of cool, making way for the ascendant baby boomers. They even find some musical common ground in the closing scenes!