It is obvious that this is one of Dore Schary's pet projects at MGM, certainly not for the taste of Louis B. Mayer at the climax of his reign at the studio where the lion was about to roar "The End" for him. Hypocritacally patriotic Mayer disapproved of the Civil War drama "The Red Badge of Courage" and the spiritual drama "The Next Voice You Here", and it is very obvious that this one, too, made him wince. The theme is the psychological destruction that comes from war, whether involved or rejected from duty, and here, it is the later, surrounding the already demented Marshall Thompson, a young man who believes it is his duty to kill, having wanted so much to do so when World War II came up.Killing a bus driver after he is discovered to have a gun, he then takes over a local bar where a new invention called television is presenting local news as the bartender (William Conrad) grumbles about it. It is the local news that will soon be camping outside this bar when Thompson orders local police to send doctor Sam Levene there for one last confrontation in exchange for the hostages he has taken. Virginia Field is unforgettable as the aging and drunken "B" girl obviously tiring of life yet unable to escape her floozy identity. Andrea King is a young lady enticed by an older married man (Leon Ames) with a romantic trip out of town. These are the most memorable of the hostages, the others (including a newspaper man whose own paper ignores his call for help) not as fleshed out.The film makes a few important comments on both the human condition and the issue of violence in society. The most obvious issue is the importance of gun control. In only 75 minutes, the film's gritty and unapologetic violence takes several lives shockingly and seems to be written just to expose the growing violence in society rather than present a plot which is neatly wrapped up like the usual MGM fare. Field gets a great exit which ties the trashy element of the story with an ironic twist that is sure to bring delight.

Back in 1936, Leslie Howard and Humphrey Bogart starred in a tough little film based on their play by the same name. Howard is a nice drifter who just happens to walk into a desert restaurant/filling station at the same time a wanted mobster and his henchmen arrive. And, through most of the film, these crooks terrorize the patrons and make them fear for their lives. This sort of plot has been repeated several times in the 1950s with "Suddenly", "The Desperate Hours" and this film, "Dial 1119".The major difference with "Dial 9111" and these other films is that instead of a criminal holding everyone hostage, it's an escaped mental patient--a guy who has no compunction about killing people with his stolen gun. Seeing this guy with a baby face is particularly striking. And, to make it a lot more creepy than these other films, he does so with absolutely no emotion--none! The bar is made up of a variety of patrons (some of which have interesting back stories--like the creep played by Leon Ames) as well as the amazingly blunt and rude bartender, 'Chuckles' (William Conrad).Once the guy begins shooting people in the bar, there isn't a lot the police can do--he might be insane but he's also smart and has figured all the angles--and police are afraid to do anything lest all the captives be killed. The film then, is a very tense standoff--on with brutal violence, great tension and a lot to offer with such a low-budget film. Well worth your time.

Marshall Thompson as an escaped crazed killer and general all-round psycho? I don't think so. He appears to be sleepwalking through his role as a very disturbed young man with issues about his psychiatrist. This could have been a turning point for this contract player but he didn't seem to be up to it. A couple of bursts of hysteria and that's about it.The story takes place in a small, rather cozy bar in Terminal City (get it?) that looks like the Big Apple. Thompson hold 6 people hostage, (well, really 5 since he guns down the bartender William Conrad right off the bat). He wants to meet up with his former doctor, played rather badly by Sam Levine, who convinced a jury that Thompson was insane, thereby having him sent to an asylum instead of the gas chamber. Needless to say, Thompson is ticked off, escapes from the asylum and threatens to kill the bar patrons unless Levine shows up for a face-to-face. This drags on for a while and Levine finally walks into the bar and proceeds to do what no self-respecting psychiatrist would even consider. Needless to say it doesn't work out and Levine is unceremoniously dispatched. Things get dicey, shots ring out, and then it's over.The supporting cast is one we all recognize (Andrea Leeds, Keefe Brasselle, Virginia Field, et al) and they do their best with a rather sparse script. This isn't the worst movie you've ever seen but it's not much. So Marshall Thompson rides off into the sunset to second rate roles and probably missed his big opportunity for stardom.

Out of the grayness of film noir drama comes a pondering on the gray area of social engineering. Dial 1119 is a film discussion of the distention between straight-ahead law enforcement and the brand-new authority of psychological intervention in criminal matters. The heart of the film is the series of conversations between the Homicide Captain and the forensic psychiatrist. Therein lies a clear blueprint of the issues: Is it better to identify and treat society's offenders, rather than simply punish? What should the treatment be; confinement, medicine or capital punishment? In view of the fact they prosecuted a man for murder and saw him escape the electric chair to kill again, are the police to be blamed for being skeptical of the medical model in dealing with crime? Are we to condemn the doctor's humanist courage as simple folly, or celebrate it as a noble march toward higher existence?I found the relationship between police and doctor to be unique in cinema, can't remember when I've ever seen it so clearly and dramatically drawn. Also, the characterizing vignettes of the various hostages were deftly wrought. Overall, a remarkable film rendered nearly into the realm of science-fiction by the dominance of a 48 inch flat screen TV over the main set, presaging the looming hypnotic sway the contraption would wield on a developing social world.