By Steve Vertlieb: This is a love story, as wondrous, tender, and affectionate as any that you’ll ever read. In the current vernacular, it might be referred to as a “bromance,” the non-romantic affection for one man by another. For, in all my life, I have never felt the adoration for another human soul…beyond my
He inhabits a penthouse far above New York City. It's filled with an accumulation of expensive possessions - with antique furniture, rich draperies, paintings, souvenirs of what seems to have been a successful career as a land developer. He tyrannizes his faithful male secretary with barked commands, with sudden shifts of mood, with bursts of paranoia. He likes to perch on his parapet and survey the city through a telescope. He is not searching idly: He believes he is being followed by men in a blue Mercedes. He is quite clearly mad. His history is a painful one. His name is Arthur Goldman, and he was an inmate of a Nazi concentration camp. To this day his nightmares are punctuated with the fearsome presence of Dorf, commandant of the camp. Thirty years have passed, and yet Dorf controls him still. Or does he control - did he create - Dorf himself? That is the last and most puzzling question raised by "The Man in the Glass Booth," which is the inaugural offering of the Am
Anxiety, injustice and desperate disorder are the themes of these six disparate
noirs. In one,
The Dark Past, Lee J. Cobb’s psychiatrist draws a crude diagram of the brain with a line dividing the conscious and unconscious, and these films visit the choppy depths under the surface calm of suburban Cold War America, its terrors in the night.
Anxiety, injustice and desperate disorder are the themes of these six disparate
noirs. In one,
The Dark Past, Lee J. Cobb’s psychiatrist draws a crude diagram of the brain with a line dividing the conscious and unconscious, and these films visit the choppy depths under the surface calm of suburban Cold War America, its terrors in the night.