"Ace in the Hole" might be the greatest movie you've never seen. Lucky for you, our culture's collective cynicism is finally catching up with the 1951 gem that was ahead of its time.
Despite an impeccable pedigree — it was written and directed at the height of his powers by the beloved Billy Wilder, and it starred Kirk Douglas — this biting noir drama bombed at the box office in the United States in 1951 and never got a video release until this week.
As fresh in 2007 as the vulture coverage of the death of Anna Nicole Smith, "Ace in the Hole" is a smart, scathing indictment of an opportunistic media in a nation of shameless rubberneckers, all devoted to the almighty dollar.
And it all takes place under the harsh glare of the New Mexico desert sun.
Shot mostly in Gallup and Laguna Pueblo, "Ace in the Hole" finds Chuck Tatum (Douglas), a failed big-city reporter, stuck in Albuquerque and begging for a job at the lowly Sun-Bulletin (with an embroidery of the editor's slogan, "Tell the Truth," hanging on the wall) and hoping for a big story to put him back on the map. A torturous year later, his prayers are answered when he and cub reporter Herbie Cook (Robert Arthur) stumble on a cave-in that has trapped a scavenger of Indian artifacts, poor Leo Minosa (Richard Benedict).
Minosa's callous wife, Lorraine (Jan Sterling), considers it the perfect opportunity to bolt from the fictional hick town of Escudero, until Tatum connives to turn the tragedy into a media circus - so many people come to gawk at the spectacle over the course of a week that a carnival literally pops up on the site - and the Minosas' diner/trading post rakes in a fortune.
"It was one of Billy Wilder's favorite movies, and I was honored to be in it," said Arthur, now 82 and retired in his hometown of Aberdeen, Wash.
Arthur was a rosy-cheeked 25-year-old when he shot "Ace in the Hole." He sounded a bit surprised to be tracked down for a phone interview this week, especially considering that Criterion, the elite video archivists, didn't find him to contribute to the DVD extras.
Arthur remembered hanging out in New Mexico working with Wilder, whom he called "a brilliant man."
"We stayed in Gallup in a wonderful timber lodge. I enjoyed the Indian artifacts and the Navajo caves," he recalled. "It was barren, dusty and windy, but I liked it."
Arthur said the film shocked the critics and confused moviegoers because of its unrelenting pessimism in an America on the brink of the Eisenhower era.
"I don't think people understood it," he said. "I don't think they understood the dark side of it."
He befriended Sterling and said Douglas was a true pro but not very accessible.
"I never got close to him," Arthur said. "I think he was always in character."
Nonetheless, the two are a dynamic duo on screen.
"I was a perfect foil for him, because I was innocent and humble," Arthur said.
Douglas was ferocious as the arrogant reporter who smooth-talks the victim, schmoozes the county sheriff and schemes to slow down the rescue effort in order to heighten his scoop and make his old employer in New York beg and bid for juicy copy. And Sterling spits out stinging one-liners as the would-be widow.
The dialogue crackles from start to finish.
When Lorraine figures out Tatum's game, she tells him, "I've met a lot of hard-boiled eggs in my life, but you, you're 20 minutes."
He doesn't want for comebacks. "When they bleached your hair," he snarls at her, "they must have bleached your brains, too."
Early on, Tatum makes it clear to his straight-arrow Albuquerque editor that ethics are for suckers. "Bad news sells best," Tatum explains. "Because good news is no news."
In a 1980 interview on the bonus DVD with the film's release, Wilder wears the badge of cynic proudly. He always defended the film as one of his best.
And that's saying something. In 1951, Wilder was in the middle of an amazing run. He splashed the indelible "Double Indemnity" in 1944 and won the grand prize at Cannes and two Oscars the next year with "The Lost Weekend," the raw story of an alcoholic. By 1950, Wilder was on top of the world with "Sunset Boulevard."
After his box-office bomb, his next three pictures (as he called them) were memorable: "Stalag 17," "Sabrina" and "The Seven-Year Itch." And he was to peak again around 1960 with "Some Like It Hot" and "The Apartment," which swept the top Oscars.
"Ace in the Hole" was the beginning of the end of Wilder's long affiliation with Paramount Pictures. The studio cut short the movie's run, retooled it and re-released it as "The Big Carnival." It bombed again.
The movie, though, gained cult status among scholars of cinema and the next generation of filmmakers.
"It was way ahead of its time," Arthur said. "I've been to film festivals where it's used as an educational film for students."
The DVD liner notes feature a gushing essay by cult director Guy Maddin. The bonus disc features "Malcolm X" director Spike Lee, who says he cribbed Wilder's memorable closing shot.
"For me, one of the great final shots in cinema," Lee raves.
In a 1984 interview, Douglas also praised Wilder's technical prowess, both as a director and writer. One memorable script flourish has Douglas' hotshot holding a match to the roll of a typewriter and hitting the carriage return to make it zip across and strike the match.
"He was brilliant with little touches," Douglas said.
Wilder, an Austrian immigrant who fled Germany when Hitler gained power in 1933, wasn't shy about shining a harsh light on American culture. The media spectacle he creates in "Ace in the Hole" (complete with reporters from KOAT radio and KOB-TV) is a direct challenge to audiences who consume entertainment and information without questioning its origins or motives.
And not only is the reporter Douglas portrays absolutely irredeemable, but the grieving wife definitely isn't the saint you'd expect. Both characters are contrasted with the quaint folks of "small town" Albuquerque and New Mexico.
As Tatum spins out of control and threatens to bring the innocent young reporter down with him, he confronts the old-fashioned Albuquerque editor (an ultra-conservative sort who wears both a belt and suspenders).
"It's the 20th century - the second half," Tatum rants. "The kid wants to get going."
The editor — Jacob Q. Boot — is quick with his reply: "Going where?"
In 2007, we are better equipped to answer that question.
- Reporter Chuck Tatum, giving the editor of the Albuquerque Sun-Bulletin his opinion of the paper: "I don't mean to tell you I was expecting the New York Times, but even for Albuquerque, this is pretty Albuquerque."
- Lorraine, the cave-in victim's wife, explaining her aversion to praying: "I don't go to church; kneelin' bags my nylons.
- Tatum, in a reverie about the joys of New York: "You know what's wrong with New Mexico? Too much outdoors."
- When Tatum asks the office secretary if she's ever heard of Yogi Berra, her response is, "Yogi — that's a religion, isn't it?" He quickly replies, "You bet it is! Belief in the New York Yankees."
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