dtb Review of House of Cards

House of Cards (1968)

Good Over-The-Top Adventure If You Can Find It!

[7/10 · 28 March 2002]

I haven't seen HOUSE OF CARDS in years, but thanks to the many times I saw it on TBS and local channels in my youth, I remember it like I saw it yesterday! During the 1960s, Universal Pictures made a mini-genre out of the Lighthearted International Technicolor Romantic Suspense Thriller with such rollicking adventures as CHARADE, ARABESQUE, and A MAN COULD GET KILLED. HOUSE OF CARDS was the loopiest of the lot from its opening sequence: tracking shots of Paris from a corpse's-eye-view (there it is, floating in the River Seine practically unnoticed by the populace...)! George Peppard plays a sort of hip '60s Hemingway type who drifts from one country to another writing his novel or boxing (indeed, when we first meet him he's getting the hell beaten out of him in a Paris boxing ring). One night, he's shot at--and discovers the triggerman is a frightened child (haunted-eyed Barnaby Shaw is memorable here). Peppard drags the little sharpshooter home to his surprised mom, played by the luminous Inger Stevens with a vulnerable sophistication reminiscent of Eva Marie Saint in NORTH BY NORTHWEST. Turns out the glamorous but troubled Stevens is the American widow of a French general; she and her son are virtual prisoners of her sinister in-laws and their cohorts, including secretive psychiatrist Keith Michell. Stevens takes a shine to Peppard (guess his iconoclastic loner routine is a welcome change of pace from the Daphne DuMaurier types slinking around the family chateau) and hires him as Shaw's tutor/companion. Soon we're catapulted from DuMaurier Land to Robert Ludlum-ville as the chateau's occupants turn out to be part of a Fascist group led by Orson Welles. Seems that Papa wanted his little man to be brought up as a Hitler youth. Before you can say "Hitchcock," the kid's kidnapped, Peppard's framed for murder, and he and Stevens are chasing and being chased all over Paris and Rome trying to save Shaw and the world from these dastardly so-and-so's. While some of the plot twists stretch credibility to the breaking point (especially Michell's true identity) and some of the more attention-grabbing stuff is never explained, HOUSE OF CARDS still manages to be entertaining (despite Francis Lai's wussy score), thanks mostly to the appealing leads. Peppard, in his prime, was well-cast as a cynical rogue with his all-American good looks, hard-boiled flippancy, and breezy charm. (He cracked me up whenever he improvised outlandish excuses to authority figures, like in the Fountain of Trevi scene.) Platinum-blonde Stevens was an excellent match for Peppard both physically and personality-wise, with screen presence aplenty. It's not just her striking, slightly unconventional beauty and her honeyed alto voice; Stevens also had a warmth that belied her Nordic Ice Maiden looks, and a knack for being at once worldly and wholesome (this quality is reflected in her fab Edith Head costumes, too). This wildly complex thriller probably shouldn't be watched by anyone with a migraine or a short attention span -- but if you're in the mood for a well-cast conspiracy yarn that doesn't take itself too seriously, keep an eye out for HOUSE OF CARDS in your TV movie listings!