That 10-minute opening is a real grabber. I'm still wondering whether the driving rain was real or not. If so, it must have made filming difficult as heck. The problem with an opening like this is once you've hit the highlight how do you fill the remainder, which could easily pale in comparison.
Still, it's no problem for this little gem. The remaining time amounts to a real nail-biter in getting away with the gold now that the gang has stolen it. Driving big rigs cross-country is cat-and-mouse with the cops the whole way, as details of the plan unfold, and we get acquainted with the gang members.
Raymond's effective as the disciplined mastermind. I think I counted one smile from him the whole time. Then there's the familiar mug of professional loser Cook Jr. who gets a regular guy role for once. And, of course, there's the underrated Wayne Morris as the dependable Commando, just two years away from an untimely passing.
My one gripe is with the tip-offs to the cops. They're flimsy and contrived, especially the police radio in Roly's (Repp) case. Too bad, because the rest of a tight script manages a surprisingly high degree of believability, thanks to screenwriter Steven Ritch who doubles here as race car guy Frankie.
I expect director Cornfield was hoping for a break-through film on the order of the previous year's The Killing (1956), which thrust Stanley Kubrick into the front rank. He doesn't get it, but he does get one heckuva good little heist film, and so do we. And, oh yes, I could have told the gang to stay off the LA freeways at rush hour.
Still, it's no problem for this little gem. The remaining time amounts to a real nail-biter in getting away with the gold now that the gang has stolen it. Driving big rigs cross-country is cat-and-mouse with the cops the whole way, as details of the plan unfold, and we get acquainted with the gang members.
Raymond's effective as the disciplined mastermind. I think I counted one smile from him the whole time. Then there's the familiar mug of professional loser Cook Jr. who gets a regular guy role for once. And, of course, there's the underrated Wayne Morris as the dependable Commando, just two years away from an untimely passing.
My one gripe is with the tip-offs to the cops. They're flimsy and contrived, especially the police radio in Roly's (Repp) case. Too bad, because the rest of a tight script manages a surprisingly high degree of believability, thanks to screenwriter Steven Ritch who doubles here as race car guy Frankie.
I expect director Cornfield was hoping for a break-through film on the order of the previous year's The Killing (1956), which thrust Stanley Kubrick into the front rank. He doesn't get it, but he does get one heckuva good little heist film, and so do we. And, oh yes, I could have told the gang to stay off the LA freeways at rush hour.