St. Ives

Charles Bronson plays the title character, an adventurer of sorts and crime writer. Oddly, he's hired by a rich thief (John Houseman) to retrieve some stolen documents...and so St. Ives plays private dick. As St. Ives proceeds through the case, he keeps arriving when people are dying...but he is innocent. It just seems that a LOT of dishonest people keep killing each other to get the documents. What are they and what really is going on? Well, see the film...or not. This is an odd Charles Bronson flick. While he is involved in a few action sequences, much of the film seems to happen all around him instead of with him. In addition, the plot is hard to believe and a bit convoluted...making this one of Bronson's lesser efforts. Decent and watchable but not much more. By the way, if you do watch, pay attention to Hood #1 and 3 who try to kill St. Ives early in the film. They are Robert Englund and Jeff Goldblum before they became famous actors.

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source: St. Ives

I used to live down the street from Ross Thomas in DC and never had the chance to meet him. According to a story in the POST, Thomas and his wife went out to Hollywood to see the filming. Bronson told him "I didn't read the book." Thomas replied "That's OK. I didn't see your last movie." Bronson was not Thomas' or my idea of the St. Ives character. St. Ives was a thinking man's detective with a wry sense of humor. Bronson was capable of wry humor but he was miscast if you had read the books. I think it was the Thomas novel filmed which is a shame. I think Charles Durning starred in a made-for-TV movie where he played a similar character who is a professional go-between.

When you see Charles Bronson as a leading role or any role in a film, remember that your time is not wasted.

A rather unusual entry in Charles Bronson's filmography: a homage to 1940s film noirs in the "Big Sleep" tradition. He does not play a private eye but an ex-crime reporter / wannabe writer who apparently knows everybody in L. A. - and, of course, can still fight like a professional! Stylistically, the film most closely resembles an episode of a 1970s TV series, but it does have an intricate plot (with at least one very good clue - the bag), a more personable than usual Bronson who shows an unexpected sense of humor (I loved his bluff in the scene where he gets information from a hotel clerk), and an amazing-looking Jacqueline Bisset who can also fire a gun with deadly accuracy (this must be one of her most underrated roles). As a matter of fact, the whole movie is underrated. **1/2 out of 4.

Charles Bronson stars as the title character in this twist-laden tale of intrigue. Raymond St. Ives is a crime writer who's currently in need of some cash. He's hired by a devious career criminal, Abner Procane (John Houseman), who's written down several journals of his misdeeds. It seems that Procanes' journals have been stolen, and he needs St. Ives to act as a "go between", or deliver money to the thieves while retrieving the incriminating documents. But nothing goes as planned, and St. Ives, an inquisitive sort as well as a cool customer, becomes determined to find out what he's gotten himself into. Even speaking as a fan of Mr. Bronson, it's really the supporting cast that brings this one to life. Bronson is fun, but the other parts are very well cast and each actor gets a chance to make an impact. Houseman is utterly delightful, looking like he's having a high old time playing such a likable scoundrel. The incredibly beautiful Jacqueline Bisset plays his associate Janet, and Maximilian Schell his psychiatrist. Harry Guardino, Harris Yulin, and Dana Elcar play assorted detectives (Elcar has the most priceless line reading in the whole movie), and Michael Lerner, George Memmoli, Dick O'Neill, Elisha Cook Jr., Val Bisoglio, Burr DeBenning, and Daniel J. Travanti fill out the rest of the main cast. One great joy is in seeing future stars Robert Englund and Jeff Goldblum (Goldbum having made his film debut in "Death Wish" as one of the muggers) as two of the young hoods who accost Bronson at one point. The story itself, based on a novel by Ross Thomas, does keep the viewers on their toes while they work, like Bronson, to figure out what's what. Director J. Lee Thompson, who would work with Bronson again throughout the 70s and 80s, handles it all with finesse, with fine cinematography by Lucien Ballard and equally fine music composed by Lalo Schifrin as additional assets. If you're fan of Bronson, Houseman, or Thompson, then by all means give this one a viewing. Seven out of 10.

Ex-crime reporter and excessive gambler Ray St. Ives(Charles Bronson)is asked to be a "go between" exchanging $100,000 for stolen journals for a wealthy millionaire named Abner Procane(John Houseman). Every time he attempts to do so, though, his life is threatened. First he was told to go to a laundromat, instead finding a thief with a broke neck in a dryer. Then three hoods(two of which are Robert Englund and Jeff Goldblum!)attempt to toss him down an elevator shaft. Then Ray goes to talk to a man who might have an idea as to where the journals were, but before he can talk to the guy he is "helped" out of a window from his apartment, crashing to the street 8 floors below. So anyone associated with those missing journals winds up dead or in danger. The journals detail a life of crime and St. Ives is drawn by curiosity into Procane's world, $4 million service charge for negotiating a secret deal between a company and rich sheik, four pages still missing from the ledgers despite a rather successful exchange. ST.IVES has one of those tricky plots where if you don't pay attention you'll be lost. Director J Lee Thompson keeps the camera and plot active, and we're never sure who Ives can trust, if anyone. He's an honest bloke, though, and awfully lucky..I asked myself how this guy could stay alive through it all because of how anyone linked to those 4 pages in the ledgers consistently wound up biting the big one. The twists and turns of the plot primarily consist of characters coming out of the woodwork to get their hands on the money, betrayal and greed major motivating factors. Bronson's character only resorts to violence when he has to, instead working with his mind, quite cerebral, and knows more than he lets on. The film has quite a cast. One of the most beautiful women in the 70s, Jacqueline Bisset, is part of Houseman's entourage and fits the femme fatale archetype. You never can fully trust her because $4 million is irresistible to someone like her character, Janet. Maximilian Schell has a small, but more pivotal than you might be think, as Houseman's psychiatrist. Harry Guardino, Dana Elcar, and Harris Yulin all portray detectives in supporting parts, often popping in St. Ives' affairs. Elisha Cook has a little role as a bellhop in the cheap hotel for which St. Ives lives.

St Ives was the first fruit of what turned out to be a fecund collaboration between tough-guy actor Charles Bronson and veteran British filmmaker J Lee Thompson. Based on a novel by Ross Thomas (The Procane Chronicle), St Ives is clearly a contribution to the 1970s neo-noir cycle, the Watergate-era revival of the hard-boiled detective story. It's not a major contribution to the genre – it pales beside The Long Goodbye, Chinatown or Night Moves – but it's an entertaining watch, well cast (including a cameo by genre veteran Elisha Cook) and it leaves a subtly bitter taste in the mouth. Raymond St Ives (Bronson) is a retired sports writer and wannabe Great American Novelist who agrees to act as a go-between for a rich old villain Abner Procane (John Houseman channelling Sydney Greenstreet) who has had his memoirs stolen. St Ives is dragged into a world of swank mansions, sordid downtown locations, corrupt cops, petty criminals who meet nasty ends and, of course, a femme-fatale (Jacqueline Bissett) who is looking out for herself. This last character doesn't subvert the genre expectation in the post-feminist way of Chinatown, nor are the Bogart/Bacall exchanges between Bissett and Bronson entirely convincing (there is an air of pastiche here). The film is set in Los Angeles and it is no coincidence that Procane spends his time watching old silent epics as a form of (American) dream therapy, an escape from his neuroses; even his criminal scheme takes place at a drive-in cinema. There's a subtext involving old Hollywood being used as a screen which hides the sordid realities of contemporary American life – the climax involves the rich old man's screen being rolled back to reveal his friend and psychiatric as the prime mover of a plot against him, a plot motivated by envy, greed and Oedipal hatred. The final has Bronson refusing four million dollars ("it's expensive being honest") and handing over the cash and the femme-fatale, leaving both in the hands of an 'honest' cop, his honesty held in the balance as sex and filthy lucre present themselves as temptations to climb into the 'bucket of faeces', as the cop had previously described the world of criminality. The ending presents us not with the happy denouement we first saw Procane lulling himself with in front of a silent film but an ambiguous moment of ever-present inducement to dirty one's hands with ill-gotten gains, the truth of the American dream.

It was 1976, Bronson had just scored one of his bigger creative triumphs with Hard Times late the past year and had effectively changed pace earlier that year with the satirical, western set From Noon Till Three and the more traditional western mystery Breakheart Pass. As the titular mystery writer/troubleshooter, his performance is more loose in the style of some of his better efforts. A good cast surrounds him, most of whom play some part in the intrigue. It's not classic mystery or classic Bronson, but is easy to enjoy even for non-fans. Check out the late stuntman-extraodinaire Dar Robinson in one of his few acting appearances and a pre-Freddy Robert Englund (who had one of his best roles that same year in Stay Hungry).