Bearing an uncanny resemblance to Anthony Perkins in 'Psycho' and sharing Norman Bates' severely disturbed mental condition, the youthful Marshall Thompson is a fugitive from the State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. In his desperate search to locate police psychiatrist Dr. John Faron (Sam Levene) his disregard for the value of human life is evident from the start.
'Chuckles' (William Conrad), is the languid, lugubrious owner of the bare, spartan establishment known as the Oasis Bar, which makes The Rover's Return look like Raffles. Conrad views the world with a face as long as Southend Pier, referring to his mainly glum punters as crumbs, whilst lamenting upon a life spent labouring for a crust. His single concession to the advancing electronic age is a surprisingly large screen wall-mounted T. V., on which the vertical hold habitually goes into spasm. Oasis?.....This dingy, dimly lit dive, this wearisome watering hole serves as a magnet for local loners, losers and lushes, who are likely to leave in a blur before concluding their evening with a generous B-J-O-R-K on the sidewalk,
It is upon this dreary, down at heel dump, that unbalanced, gun toting Thompson decides to descend, holding the five patrons hostage, whilst demanding to see Dr. Faron. Traumatized and delusional about his wartime experiences and still to face the tribulation of encountering a cross-eyed lion, Thompson imposes a short time limit before he opens fire. The authorities debate and deliberate over how to resolve the issue, with Levene asserting that he cannot consult with a patient by phone. (Wait till lock-down mate!). Meanwhile, the frightened, bewildered, clock-watching crew within, including womanizing Leon Ames, hard drinking Virginia Field and lonely Andrea King, who just wanted a little excitement, attempt to reason with their cold, calculating captor. Can they reach the remote, rangy, runaway, or will it be like firing paper darts at a tank. As the clock runs down tension mounts.... without ever quite entering gripping, nail biting territory.
Serviceable and competent, entertaining but not exceptional, Dial1119 checks in as a modestly engaging achievement in the psycho-noir canon.
'Chuckles' (William Conrad), is the languid, lugubrious owner of the bare, spartan establishment known as the Oasis Bar, which makes The Rover's Return look like Raffles. Conrad views the world with a face as long as Southend Pier, referring to his mainly glum punters as crumbs, whilst lamenting upon a life spent labouring for a crust. His single concession to the advancing electronic age is a surprisingly large screen wall-mounted T. V., on which the vertical hold habitually goes into spasm. Oasis?.....This dingy, dimly lit dive, this wearisome watering hole serves as a magnet for local loners, losers and lushes, who are likely to leave in a blur before concluding their evening with a generous B-J-O-R-K on the sidewalk,
It is upon this dreary, down at heel dump, that unbalanced, gun toting Thompson decides to descend, holding the five patrons hostage, whilst demanding to see Dr. Faron. Traumatized and delusional about his wartime experiences and still to face the tribulation of encountering a cross-eyed lion, Thompson imposes a short time limit before he opens fire. The authorities debate and deliberate over how to resolve the issue, with Levene asserting that he cannot consult with a patient by phone. (Wait till lock-down mate!). Meanwhile, the frightened, bewildered, clock-watching crew within, including womanizing Leon Ames, hard drinking Virginia Field and lonely Andrea King, who just wanted a little excitement, attempt to reason with their cold, calculating captor. Can they reach the remote, rangy, runaway, or will it be like firing paper darts at a tank. As the clock runs down tension mounts.... without ever quite entering gripping, nail biting territory.
Serviceable and competent, entertaining but not exceptional, Dial1119 checks in as a modestly engaging achievement in the psycho-noir canon.