The Golden Age Of The B-Film Noir- Alex Nichol And Hillary Brooke’s “Heat Wave” (1954)

DVD Review

By Film Critic Emeritus Sam Lowell

Heat Wave (released in Britain as The House Across The Lake, starring Alex Nicol, Hillary Brooke, Hammer Productions, 1954

Apparently I have lost a step or two (some like the guy who has taken my place as senior film critic my old friend and colleague Sandy Salmon would up those numbers by a few) in the reviewing department. I have long been known to regular readers of this space (and previously at the hard copy edition of American Film Gazette where I first worked with Sandy) as an aficionado of film noir and that is still true. I have also been known in general when I find something of interest which has other material of interest along with it to go on a “run,” to grab every possible combination and write about those things as well. That has been the case with the series that I have been presenting in this space (and on-line at the Gazette) with the headline The Golden Age Of The B-Film Noir. This series of ten films from 1950 to 1955 (a long time of collaboration in the film industry on any project) was the collective endeavor of American producer Robert Lippert and the Hammer Production Company in England to produce a bunch of noirs on the cheap using “has-been” Hollywood actors. Guys like Alex Nichol who stars in the film under review here Heat Wave (that juicy and come on title the way the film was released in America bringing images of sex and violence and in England, Great Britain, the British Isles, the Commonwealth or whatever they are calling themselves these post-Brexit days as the understated The House Across The Lake which seems more appropriate since the serious action, well, takes place across the lake from star Alex’s abode). Other faded stars such as Dan Duryea and Dane Clark have also been enlisted in these efforts along with British character actors filling out the roster. Like I say on the cheap to fill up that craving for noir on both sides of the Atlantic without heavy expenses.           

Getting back to the reason why I believe I have lost a step or two is that as this series has progressed some readers have commented that I have “mailed in” the reviews. “Mailed in” here meaning that I have used a basic format for each review which contained a general appraisal of the series and then a short summary of the plot line.

I have done this on many occasions when I am on a “run.” In this series I have emphasized why these ten films are B-films contrasting them with the Hollywood-produced classics where you can remember a ton of lines, and remember the lessons learned about crime not paying and such. Had run through for examples a few classics for instance the sadder but wiser Sam Spade after Mary Astor had run him a merry chase and he had to send her over once the bodies stared piling up over a freaking black-etched bird in The Maltese Falcon. Ditto when Jane Greer got seriously trigger-happy and took down Robert Mitchum (and Kirk Douglas) with her once she saw that he had doubled-crossed her in Out Of The Past. Ditto Phillip Marlowe trying to salvage an old man’s illusions that he had not begotten Satan’s two daughters in The Big Sleep. And so on.    

One reader had actually if you can believe this, accused me of padding these reviews because and I quote “I must get paid by the word.” Oh the woes of film review-dom. Worse though was that these comments got back to the “boss,” to Pete Markin, the site administrator who actually sided with those readers (although except for a chuckle not the “paid by the word” comment reader since the reader obviously didn’t know that penny-a-word went out with dime-store novels and that nowadays you submit on “spec” and are either taken or don’t get even a penny for your efforts.). Now I have been asked to just give the “skinny” and forget the rest. Here goes.

As I have noted the quality of these Hammer film while purely B-film stuff have a range from almost A to much worse including one, Wings of Danger, which I did not review because it never got to even B-level. The film under review Heat Wave (as noted above released in Great Britain as more accurately The House Across The Lake) almost makes it to A-level mostly because of the acting and not the plotline which has been used in noir almost as much as the boy-girl  meet-up thing in romantic comedies and the like. Mark, played by Alex Nichol, is a pulp fiction writer on the skids, getting ready to go down in the mud was the epitome of 1950s “cool”-detached, street smart, wiseacre, and with a gift of gab (when he wants to). Something out of a Mickey Spillane crime novel if he was a private detective. And a lady’s man as they used to say in the old days. The latter as usual with such guys will get him up to his neck, hell, maybe over his head in trouble. That “trouble” coming from across that fatal English lake is one dishy busty blonde (just the way he likes them), Carol, very married Carol, played by Hillary Brooke. She the epitome of 1950s femme duplicity and so the acting works the film to a higher level.

Not so the plotline which is pretty conventional. Mark eyes high –style wealthy party-girl, very married party girl, Carol having, well, a party, from his rented digs across the lake. They meet via that very party amid a drink and some banter. Mark, like I said a lady’s man, was smitten from the first by this dishy, busty blonde who was free with her favors, sexual or otherwise. The problem though is her husband who Mark likes, likes and befriends. That didn’t stop his downy billow thoughts of milady Carol. This husband, Beverly, was the second time around married very liberal toward Carol’s philandering-up to a point. He was ready to foot the bill, her very expensive bill as his trophy wife but was going to cut her off once he passed on. Which according to the doctors was not long if he kept up his frantic life-style.

Enter the evil plan-Carol’s plan. Good old Beverly had a serious accident at sea while he, Mark and Carol were on board. Carol saw her chance and tried to convince Mark to give him the old heave-ho to the briny bottom, No go. So our brave Carol does the nasty deed. Here’s where our boy Mark went off the skids. Carol convinced him to tell the tale that the whole thing was an accident and he and she could live happily ever after. He buys into the deal and expects to get the pay-off soon. That was the story he told the coppers when they figured out something was wrong with whole setup and let sucker Mark find out that Carol had secretly married and fled that sinkhole house across the lake leaving him holding the bag. He confronted Carol who laughed at him and his stupid American gullibility. Mark got the last laugh of sorts, he like Sam Spade and a million guys before him sent her over, let her, despite his own culpability take the fall, take the big step-off. A hard way to learn to stay away, way away from dishy, busty blondes.

I hope this short bare-bones “skinny” will appease that reader who claimed that I was getting paid by the word. Enough said.