a.k.a. The Big Carnival
company: Paramount Pictures
year: 1951
runtime: 112′
country: United States
director: Billy Wilder
cast: Kirk Douglas, Jan Sterling,
Robert Arthur, Porter Hall
writers: Billy Wilder,
Lesser Samuals, and Walter Newmann
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The film-going world at large was not happy with director Billy Wilder come the 1951 release date of the film that is the focus of this review – at a time when American cinema was still largely considered to be escapist fair, the stark and tangibly gritty reality of ACE IN THE HOLE was a bit more than audiences could handle. The story of what happened from there is more or less well known – Paramount, in response to the very poor public reaction to the film, snuck it back into theaters in hopes that the somewhat happier title THE BIG CARNIVAL would attract more ticket sales. It didn’t. The film died at the box office – twice – and was condemned to obscurity by an understandably angry Paramount Pictures.
At the age of fourteen I was completely oblivious to the information above and, home for the summer and sitting out one of the last nights of peace before the remainder of my family returned from a vacation somewhere long since forgotten by myself, watching the television in the downstairs living room of our then-new home. It was late and choices were slim, so I took a chance on a film I’d never heard of that had been playing for roughly an hour already on the pre-sucks AMC network. I only recognized one cast member at the time – the ever present Kirk Douglas – but became quickly engrossed with what was left of the film just the same.
And the ending – my God, the ending.
While I’d missed well over half of it, the film had an undeniable effect on me at an age when I was weaning myself off of the mostly-substandard science fiction hokum that had dominated the majority of my film going existence. Having learned the true name of the film and a few sparse details about its troubled history, I spent the next few years scanning the television listings – month after month after month – for a repeat showing. Hunting down downloadable copies also proved fruitless – most were of deplorable quality and featured either Spanish dialogue or subtitles.
At eighteen, having had no luck, I had essentially gave up on trying to see the film again and decided to leave it to the powers that be to release it.
Cut to March of this year – the Criterion collection had some exciting news, to me at any rate, regarding some of their upcoming DVD releases. First up was a collection of Hiroshi Teshigahara’s – a director I’d only recently become a fan of – best known films. More exciting, though, was the announcement that ACE IN THE HOLE would finally be making its way to home video for the very first time ever.
I was stoked.
Life got in the way, however, so when the time came for it to be released I was quite unable to procure it. Moving from drab Champaign, IL to beloved Minneapolis, MN (my favorite city, as yet) took top priority and I forced myself to more or less forget about the DVD. Imagine my surprise, then, when life intervened once more.
It was Sunday – the 5th of August – and I was scanning through the latest edition of The Onion, of all things, when something amazing caught my eye. Some fifty blocks from my new home was the only single-screen cinema in town and it was screening, for the final week, Billy Wilder’s ACE IN THE HOLE. It was decided, in short order, that I simply had to see it – on Wednesday the 8th I finally got my chance.
In retrospect and with all due respect to the family and friends of those affected by what I’m about to mention, the timing of this screening couldn’t have been more perfect. Nary a week prior had seen the collapse of the 35W bridge just a few miles from where I now sit typing and a mere two days previously had marked the disaster at the Crandall Canyon coal mine in Utah. These two events and, more importantly, the constant deluge of media coverage surrounding both, served as an unnervingly fitting backdrop for the events of the film.
The theater couldn’t have been more appropriate either. Still full of vintage 1930’s theater accommodations, the Parkway was a truly unique site to behold. Well past its prime and in desperate need of a proper restoration, the musty, chilled air and tightly packed patron seating was well suited to Wilder’s claustrophobic and unsettling masterpiece. To make matters even better, I had decided to attend a 5pm screening – as such, no one had seen fit to spend the early evening of their Wednesday attending a showing of a film they’d probably never heard of. My girlfriend and I were completely alone. . .
And the film began to play. . .
The opening strains of Hugo Friedhofer’s magnificent score – shrill brass accompanied by gut-punch bass accents – dominate the opening credits, which are played over a nondescript patch of dirt as void of soul or conscience as most of the characters to be introduced later. The film proper begins with Chuck Tatum (Kirk Douglas giving what may well be the best performance of his lengthy career), a reporter out of work of his own accord, making his way to Albuquerque with nothing but his portfolio, suit, and a broken car – his memorable entrance sees him reading the local paper as he’s towed by a truck down a city street. After happening upon the office of the Sun-Bulletin he decides to beg a job in hopes that a story big enough to elevate him to his former glory will come along. Tatum’s brash attitude seems more than out of place at the quaint and moral Sun-Bulletin (an embroidered sign saying ‘Tell The Truth’ marks the walls both outside and inside the publisher’s office), but he’s given a job just the same.
“I can handle big news and little news . . . if there’s no news I’ll go and bite a dog . . .”
What Tatum presumes will be a brief stint at a nowhere desert paper quickly amounts to a year – itching to leave and on edge enough that a lack of garlic pickles for lunch sends him on a rant (a rant of some of the film’s best dialogue, no less), he’s sent a few hours out of town, photographer Herbie in tow, to cover a rattlesnake hunt. Unbeknownst to him, life is about to deal Tatum a swell hand.
Stopping for gas at a curiosity shop near a few Indian ruins, Herbie notices that something is off and, before long, both he and Chuck are headed out to the ruins to see what’s amiss. After stumbling upon a platinum blond – on the way to the ruins herself – they discover that a man named Leo – her husband – has been buried alive by a cave in. An opportunist to end all opportunists, Chuck berates a deputy Sheriff for taking too much time and too little action and descends, with Herbie, through the ruins and into the belly of a mountain. Crumbling walls keep Herbie from going more than half way but Chuck keeps going, the scent of a big story drawing him further and further down the rabbit hole.
What he finds at the end is just what he’s been hoping for – Leo Minosa, the likable, if gullible, owner of the curiosity shop up the road, has been buried from the waste down by sand, rock, and debris. A veteran of the second World War and a devoted husband, Leo is a human interest spectacular just waiting to be stumbled upon – and Tatum wastes no time in making the very best of it. He quickly befriends the trapped curios hunter and even snaps a couple of pictures for the paper.
In no time at all, Tatum has phoned in his story and called in the cavalry – the Sheriff, the doctor, and an engineer plus crew with all the necessary equipment. He talks the Sheriff, who totes around a rattlesnake in a box, into assisting him in making sure that his story remains a Tatum exclusive in a bid to see that there’s a re-election in store for the Sheriff. What’s more, with the law effectively under his control, Tatum decides that the easiest way to save Leo – to shore up the walls of the Indian ruins and bring him out – just might not be sensational enough. Instead he convinces the engineer to start an enormous drill going from above Leo – a process that’s destined from the beginning to take up to a week to complete.
As Leo’s life hangs in the balance Tatum’s story begins to take on a life of its own – at first only a few at a time but eventually in hordes, a mass of people converge on the Indian ruins. Leo’s wife takes it as an opportunity to make a hefty sum on food and curiosities and even orders that the price of parking at the ruins be taken up from free, to $.25, to $.50, and, finally, a dollar. All the while the drill pounds away above Leo’s head in a steady rhythm, his only company Tatum, the doctor, and a few lizards wandering about the ruins. The Sheriff remains devoted to Tatum for as long as his re-election is assured and a literal media circus – complete with ferris wheel and carousel – erupts out of the dead desert earth around the ruins.
By the end of the fifth night Leo is looking more than a little worse for wear – pneumonia has set in and the doctor gives him only 12 hours more before he succumbs to being trapped in the cave for so long. Tatum realizes that the monster he’s created is getting well out of his hands and makes a desperate attempt to right its troubled course. This leads to a conclusion that rivals any put on film before or since – one that I doubt anyone viewing the film will be apt to forget in their lifetime.
Fifty six years old as of this writing and as harsh, unrelenting, and pertinent as ever, ACE IN THE HOLE ranks as one of if not the best film I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing in a theater. In the dank and mildewed gullet of the Parkway you could feel the rocks closing in on you as Tatum’s plan unfolded and Leo’s situation grew steadily worse. As effective a film as any on the big screen, ACE leaves one feeling almost physically ill by the time the near 20 minute long conclusion begins – a big reason why audiences in 1951 didn’t go for it, I’d imagine.
It’s a testament to the team behind the film – and Billy Wilder above the rest – that it remains as stunningly effective today as it ever has been. While the literal circus that builds up around the Minosa story may seem almost absurd on logical level, one can’t help but draw parallels between it and the nature of media frenzies today. One need not show up in person anymore, after all – with television and the internet now being the chief sources for news coverage a circus can develop without anyone needing to have set foot on the site of the story. Between the newscasters, panelists, and viewer calls, Wilder’s circus begins to seem not so very far off after all.
The media aren’t the only targets for Wilder’s cynicism, however – getting their fair share are the concept of the nuclear family, consumerism, and the very idea of the American dream, none of which survive the films 112 minute running time unscathed. ACE IN THE HOLE is absolutely unflinchingly brutal in its method and follows the indecencies of its characters with all the morbid fascination with which they follow the Minosa story. It’s a beautiful document on the darkest sides of human nature and a wholly engrossing cinematic experience.
Douglas’ ‘Chuck’ Tatum is a tragic hero in every sense and is allowed a full character arch from a greedy opportunist to a veritable martyr taking responsibility for everything that’s happened. Having seen the film it’s difficult to put anyone else but Douglas into the role of Tatum – he lives the role and his tendency to go over the top suits the needle sharp scripting perfectly. Jan Sterling comes across as what may be the most unsympathetic character in the mix with her spot-on portrayal of Mrs. Minosa.
Also of note are Richard Benedict as the doomed Leo Minosa, Porter Hall as the Sun-Bulletin’s manager (who’s matter-of-fact responses to Tatum’s snide remarks in the beginning make for some of the film’s only comic relief), and John Berkes as Leo’s ever-hopeful and courteous father. Together with Frances Dominguez as Leo’s praying mother, these three are perhaps the films only demonstrably ‘good’ characters. Other familiar faces pop up from time to time, including Gene Evans (THE GIANT BEHEMOTH [1959]) as the just plain unlikeable deputy and Lewis Martin (Pastor Collins from the original WAR OF THE WORLDS [1953]) as one of a number of reporters who descend upon Minosa’s tomb.
The scripting for ACE IN THE HOLE as has already been mentioned, was sharpened to near-perfection by the team of Walter Newman, Lesser Samuals, and Wilder. Noir styled exchanges permeate the screenplay from start to finish and never let up in between. Already mentioned as well is the superb score provided by Hugo Friedhofer – one who’s lack of release on CD is criminal. As important as anything else to the production is it’s design, however – from the opening frames of the credits to the closing low-angle close-up the film evokes a sense of gritty reality that’s hard to come by in a motion picture from any decade. When the sand sifts down through the cracked ceilings and onto the head of the suffering Leo Minosa its easy to feel as though one should start brushing out of their own hair.
My initial theatrical screening the film ended up not being enough to satiate me and at 5pm the following day I was there for a second go. There was a consortium of sorts of aggravating local middle-aged film buffs there, sadly, and technical issues plagued the screening (the audio this go around featured far too much high end, making the all-important dialogue difficult to understand at times). One young fellow even walked out of the film before the hefty conclusion could be reached – it’s a pity, really, and I can’t help wondering if he knew at all what he was missing.
Even with raunchy sound and aggravating co-viewers, ACE IN THE HOLE was a powerful cinema experience. Criterion’s two disc edition of the film released in July is quite satisfying, by all accounts, but I can’t help feeling that this is a film best served on a theater screen. I can’t imagine that theatrical screenings for such an unnecessarily obscure title are as frequent as they could and should be, but if you have a chance to see it that way then take it – you won’t regret it.
