Angel Face (1952)

So far, my Otto Preminger viewings have been about half great and half mixed in my opinion. This one had the added appeal of Robert Mitchum to draw me in. He's not even the creepiest character this time.

Beverly Hills ambulance driver Frank (Mitchum) comes to a mansion where one Catherine (Barbara O'Neil) has had a close call with a gas leak. Circumstances suggest an attempt at either suicide or, as she claims, homicide, tho she names no culprit. Frank is smitten with the beauty of her stepdaughter, Diane (Jean Simmons), despite already having a girlfriend (Mona Freeman). Diane goes out of her way to make him her favorite, even persuading her father (Herbert Marshall) and Catherine to hire him as their chauffeur. Frank doesn't fully trust Diane after her insincere manipulations and contempt for Catherine, but he might just be game for whatever she schemes next....

Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950)

No, this has nothing to do with the Shel Silverstein poem collection of the same name. Nor does the end of the sidewalk actually come into play plotwise. Somebody just tacked the title on to convey the genre of film noir.

NYPD Det. Mark Dixon (Dana Andrews) has a record of excessive roughness against suspects, but he brushes off warnings from Lt. Thomas (Karl Malden) -- until he accidentally kills a cantankerous hood, Ken Paine (Craig Stevens). Dixon tries to make it look like Paine fled town. When the body is discovered, he tries to frame master criminal Tommy Scalise (Gary Merrill), who had likely framed Paine in the first place and whom Dixon has long wanted to put away. But Thomas instead follows the trail to Paine's hostile father-in-law, Jiggs Taylor (Tom Tully). Not only would Dixon hate to have an innocent man take the fall, but he's growing fond of Taylor's daughter, Martha (Ruth Donnelly).

In Harm's Way (1965)

This picture must have felt familiar to John Wayne. Twenty years earlier, he had played a major role in They Were Expendable, another naval story that pretty much begins with the Pearl Harbor attack. Only this time, however, does he get the very top billing, which is saying something when second goes to Kirk Douglas.

Both Rockwell Torrey (Wayne) and Paul Eddington (Douglas) have trouble staying in the military's good graces, Rock for using non-textbook maneuvers to ill effect and Paul for being generally unruly after learning of his wife's unfaithful debauchery. Still, at times like these, the Navy can't be too choosy in whom it retains if not promotes. While on shore, Rock meets his ensign son, Jeremiah, for the first time since Jere was four; their interactions are awkward, of course. All three of these men take special interest in at least one nurse (Rock's nurse being played by Patricia Neal), but war makes having a girlfriend hard even when she's within the same armed force.

Bunny Lake Is Missing (1965)

In retrospect, the mid-'60s were kind of a strange time for films. Some still came in B&W and looked a lot like older ones except for more relaxed censorship and more modern music. Noir had declined, but experimental directors -- including old hands, this one being Otto Preminger -- created the forerunners of the dark, brooding Silver Age. And Cold War-induced paranoia was not restricted to spy stories.

The titular Bunny Lake is not a body of water but a four-year-old girl. Her immediate family consists of herself; her single mother, Ann (Carol Lynley, the true protagonist); and her uncle, Steven (Keir Dullea of 2001: A Space Odyssey semi-fame). Having just moved from the U.S. to London, Ann hastily entrusts a school cook to look after Bunny -- who is not in the scene and, in fact, has yet to appear on screen -- until class begins. At the end of the school day...well, you see the title. No one other than Ann and Steven can recall ever seeing Bunny. Superintendent Newhouse (Laurence Olivier) actually grows to suspect that Ann hallucinated her daughter's existence and Steven has steadfastly humored her all along. Both siblings mention that Ann used to have an imaginary friend named Bunny, after all.