Writer-director-star Haas, an expatriate, was an interesting multi-faceted figure within B movies, whose 20-odd films (notably those several starring bad-blonde Cleo Moore) await proper rediscovery and reassessment. His later works are united by an avuncular presence before and in front of the camera, as well as themes common to many of them which, a la Hitchcock, often feature blondes. His work is often casually sneered at or derided. While he is certainly no Ulmer, let alone Welles (one of the few other directors who share his ambitious mantle of creative titles) when seen as a group his films make for an interesting study of bargain-basement cinema while nearly all his work has interesting moments.
Take EDGE OF HELL. This one is the most disneyesque that I have yet seen of his (forget the grotesquely inappropriate title), largely avoiding the bathos which it's plot invites. Haas plays Valentine, a down-at-heel dog owner living in a basement,, whose animal's tricks provide him with his principal source of revenue. Apart from a couple of other tenants of the building, his friends mainly include tramps even less fortunate than he. A chance to entertain at a children's party brings a temporary change in circumstances, which he shares with everyone. Such happiness is short-lived however as the viewer might expect, although the old gentleman remains unembittered and steadfast to his canine companion to the end. Haas' achievement is to entirely humanize and empathise with the lower orders he presents. The basement feast, which brings beggars with Beethoven, is in one respect the central scene of the film: a bitter-sweet representation of life and dance that is in accord with the european humanistic culture and traditions from which the uprooted director sprang,
The film is also concerned to draw a distinction between performance and life (in one remarkable moment the one-time actor Valentine regales his listeners, and us with an effective, if ultimately false, account of personal tragedy, while his dog's tricks before audiences are another reminder that reality can be manipulated.) In UMBERTO D fashion, in which we find some echoes in this film, Valentine's dog is at the centre of his world. As Valentine's troubles grow, a processes made more intense by some fine close ups, we know that his woes and those of others are not fiction or just a trick, but a reality; one which can grind people down until their health suffers or they are left sleeping under arches - something that not even the occasional gift of vodka, cake and cigars from the happily well-off in better districts can permanently assuage. Only the very ending tips over into the bathos I mentioned as largely avoided otherwise,but anyone who knows MIRACLE IN MILAN will know where the sympathies of this poverty row auteur lay. In short this is not a masterpiece, but not something to be written off so readily especially when seen as part of the interesting output of a decent man making his way in ambitious fashion in a strange land.
Take EDGE OF HELL. This one is the most disneyesque that I have yet seen of his (forget the grotesquely inappropriate title), largely avoiding the bathos which it's plot invites. Haas plays Valentine, a down-at-heel dog owner living in a basement,, whose animal's tricks provide him with his principal source of revenue. Apart from a couple of other tenants of the building, his friends mainly include tramps even less fortunate than he. A chance to entertain at a children's party brings a temporary change in circumstances, which he shares with everyone. Such happiness is short-lived however as the viewer might expect, although the old gentleman remains unembittered and steadfast to his canine companion to the end. Haas' achievement is to entirely humanize and empathise with the lower orders he presents. The basement feast, which brings beggars with Beethoven, is in one respect the central scene of the film: a bitter-sweet representation of life and dance that is in accord with the european humanistic culture and traditions from which the uprooted director sprang,
The film is also concerned to draw a distinction between performance and life (in one remarkable moment the one-time actor Valentine regales his listeners, and us with an effective, if ultimately false, account of personal tragedy, while his dog's tricks before audiences are another reminder that reality can be manipulated.) In UMBERTO D fashion, in which we find some echoes in this film, Valentine's dog is at the centre of his world. As Valentine's troubles grow, a processes made more intense by some fine close ups, we know that his woes and those of others are not fiction or just a trick, but a reality; one which can grind people down until their health suffers or they are left sleeping under arches - something that not even the occasional gift of vodka, cake and cigars from the happily well-off in better districts can permanently assuage. Only the very ending tips over into the bathos I mentioned as largely avoided otherwise,but anyone who knows MIRACLE IN MILAN will know where the sympathies of this poverty row auteur lay. In short this is not a masterpiece, but not something to be written off so readily especially when seen as part of the interesting output of a decent man making his way in ambitious fashion in a strange land.