secondtake House of Numbers (1957)This starts with a clunky, poorly written rush to fill us in on the situation--a brother in jail who needs help to escape. But hang in there. It gets better.The premise is clear early on—Jack Palance plays a man whose brother (also played by Palance) needs to get out of San Quentin. So they plan an escape that involves the first brother breaking into the prison. And so on. Cool stuff.And when it gets going, there is less talk and more action, and frankly Palance is a physically interesting actor (his delivery is always stiff). This is not a great classic by any stretch. Parts are almost filler—scenes from around the real San Quentin (one of the advertised perks of the movie). But there are also good suspenseful aspects watching this plan get underway. Whether it works, I'll not say. Both Palances are good enough to hold it together. The leading woman, trying painfully hard to be a kind of Marilyn, is a drag on the whole thing. A few side characters spice it up nicely. But mainly we have the plot, and the details as we see the clever and rather nutty idea get underway. The improbable daring of the events continues right to the end, with a final twist and "The End" hitting you quickly.The director, Russell Rouse, is obscure (he directed "New York Confidential," which is good), and he probably deserves a lot of blame here because the core idea of the movie is great. And Palance could have risen up a notch with some good leading. One aspect of Palance's performance that is great, for sure, is how he made the two brothers really seem like different characters. They aren't twins, and they look and act different. The music by the soon-to-be well known conductor, Andre Previn, is an example of orchestral excess—it made me even laugh once, with the crash of music for dramatic effect, though the composing has some new qualities that take it musically beyond the great Max Steiner.By half way through there was no way I was going to quit, so if you get into this for awhile you'll be hooked by at least the "what happens" part of it all, and by the location shooting and some good night stuff.

blanche-2 Jack Palance plays look-alike brothers in "House of Numbers," a 1957 film also starring Barbara Lang and Harold Stone.A "B" movie didn't mean a film wasn't good, and "House of Numbers" is proof of that. Palance plays a man who is desperate to get his brother out of San Quentin. He enlists the help of his sister-in-law, played by Barbara Lang. Harold Stone is on hand as a nosy prison guard.Palance is fantastic in the two roles. They're not twins, so there's a makeup change, and Palance creates two different characters. One is gentle and shy; the other is older-looking, tough, and speaks in a somewhat hoarse voice. One is shorter than the other, too.Barbara Lang was one of the many Marilyn Monroe types who was around in the 1950s. Young, quite slender with overly blond hair that's too big for her, her speech is reminiscent of Monroe's, and facially, she looks like Natalie Wood. She went on to have an enormous career on Broadway in many musicals and did other theater as well. She doesn't have much to do in this film except heat up the male characters, which she accomplishes with little effort."House of Numbers" will have you on the edge of your seat. Highly recommended.

moonspinner55 San Quentin inmate Jack Palance hatches quite a scheme to get out of jail--get his lookalike brother to trade places with him in prison for a day while he constructs a foxhole to hide in, leading to his and his brother's escape. Filmed on-location in Cinemascope at San Quentin prison, with officers and inmates used as extras. It's a ludicrous plot, but the director keeps everything very low-keyed, and Jack Palance is excellent in demanding dual role. Extraordinarily silly, but so well-made you may be absorbed and interested despite yourself. Harold Stone is steely-eyed and cunning as a prison guard and Edward Platt(later of TV's "Get Smart")is believably sympathetic as the nicest prison warden you'll ever see. Barbara Lang also good as the convict's wife, obviously cast for her platinum hair and curvy figure, but giving a grounded, natural performance without showy airs.

bmacv As director and screenwriter, Russell Rouse usually had something a little different up his sleeve, at least when he was toiling in film noir. His D.O.A remains one of the best-remembered films of the cycle, but he also contributed The Well, The Thief, Wicked Woman, and New York Confidential – each of them at least some distance off the beaten track. His films tended to be less ostentatious than their rivals – quieter even (none quieter than The Thief, that dialogue-free experiment).House of Numbers was his last urban crime drama; he would go on to helm a few westerns and, in 1966, the dreadful The Oscar. But House of Numbers shows him in reasonably fine form. Jack Palance plays brothers: Arnie, in San Quentin for killing a man in a fight (he was a boxer so his hands are `lethal weapons') and Bill, who moves to San Francisco to spring him out. His helpmate in this Mission-Impossible-style scheme is Arnie's wife Ruth (Barbara Lang). The scheme is far from simple, involving Bill's smuggling himself into prison for a spell and posing as Arnie (not so far-fetched, since the same actor plays both roles). But things go wrong, such as Bill and Ruth happening to rent a house next to that of a prison guard who knows Arnie, and then falling in love with one another....Though House of Numbers may be the least violent Big-House story ever filmed, Rouse doesn't let the reins go slack. He twists the plot along to its surprisingly sedate conclusion, and brings it off. Maybe the most memorable aspect of the film is Barbara Lang's subdued and touching performance. This blonde stunner's film credits could be counted on the fingers of a maimed hand, and that's both a puzzle and a shame.The score, too is memorable, thanks to André Previn. His galley years in Hollywood, before he left to become a `serious' conductor and composer, were spent on a startling number of low-budget productions, including many noirs. He did them proud. Had he teamed up with a director of auteurist aspirations, like Hitchcock, he might have become legendary for his scores, like Korngold or Herrmann or Webb. (But then, we might not have gotten his opera A Streetcar Named Desire.)