I'm Giving You Fair "Warning!"

Today's featured movie was one of the earliest "vintage" films I ever watched. I was born in 1967 and it was released that year (made in 1966, however.) It was the mid-to-late 1980s when I sought it out because of certain members of the cast, so it was about two decades old then. Now it's close to sixty (!) years old! Warning Shot (1967) was developed to be a TV-movie, but along the way its subject matter led to it winding up as a theatrical release instead. Although many of the performers in the film have only cameo roles, you would be hard-pressed to come up with a roster like this in many other flicks. Harper (1966) was released not too long beforehand and it also had a great(er) collection of stars. Shot has been called "Harper Lite" by some. As a longtime stargazer, I enjoy this film for its treadmill of familiar faces and also for its clean, attractive look and that mid-'60s style. 

Warning Shot begins with Keenan Wynn lurking in some foliage when a hand edges up towards his throat. I didn't know if he had a dame (or a dude?!) stashed back there or what...

Turns out it was his own right hand (!) coming up to pull his jacket closed on what is apparently a chilly and very foggy night. He's a policeman on a stakeout, looking for a serial sex maniac. 

Wynn heads back to the car and now it's fellow detective David Janssen's turn in the bush. It's a quiet night apart from him being momentarily approached by a fluffy dog.

Like I say, it's FOGGY...! He spots a man lurking in the area and asks him to stop. Instead, the suspect runs like mad, knocking things over and eventually pulling a gun. 

This leads Janssen to pull out his own weapon and shoot the man. He swiftly falls dead into a nearby swimming pool.

Retrieving the corpse from the water, Janssen discovers that the man is a physician. As it turns out, a notable and respected one. And... the gun the suspect had is now nowhere to be found. 

Janssen soon finds out from his superior, Oscar-winner Ed Begley, that this incident has caused a real stir. He's shot and killed a man that he cannot prove was armed. 

And on cue the public outcry arrives, no matter the actual facts of the case. 

In a preliminary hearing, Wynn is forced to tell the truth; that he looked for but could not locate the gun that Janssen claims was in the good doctor's hand.  

And, yes, the presiding judge is none other than Carroll "Archie Bunker" O'Connor!

The prosecutor is played by Sam Wanamaker. He can barely contain his desire to nail Janssen to the wall. 

Called to the stand is the elderly owner of the dog mentioned before. The doctor had been at the apartment complex to see her. 

It's legendary cinema icon, Miss Lillian Gish!

Janssen, then still in the midst of his days on The Fugitive, must sit and listen while she rhapsodizes about how kind, caring and generous the deceased doctor was. He saw to Gish's diabetes condition and was always attentive to her aging canine Caesar. 

Like so many enduring performers of the silent era, Gish's face was a tool which could convey all sorts of emotions and thoughts at any given time. To me, she always seemed beyond ancient. At this time she was about 73. 

Wanamaker has an axe to grind and will not give Janssen any slack. When it came to portraying sneering, haughty antagonists, Wanamaker was almost without peer. His nasal-ish voice only added to his ability to agitate. 

Increasingly desperate, Janssen turns to renowned attorney Walter Pidgeon, but Pidgeon basically tells him it's all hopeless. 

Interestingly, considering the role a dog plays in this story, his walking stick (needed for a war injury) has a canine head on it. 

Janssen does seem to have one ally, acerbic talk show host Steve Allen. Allen passionately defends him on the air. 

But when Janssen meets him, he discovers that Allen is an egotist who is only taking the policeman's side in order to boost ratings. While a put-upon assistant is ordered about to do everything including massage Allen's neck (and ego!), Janssen tells him not to take his side...

On leave from the department, but still eager to clear his name, Janssen heads back to the apartment complex where the incident took place. 

Some folks, like the hosts at TCM, bemoan the establishing shots that are rather prevalent in this movie, while others are thrilled at the time capsule qualities of the shots of vintage Los Angeles. 

The "concrete pond" in which the doctor died is now surrounded by the building's inhabitants. That's Miss Gish doing laps in the west end. (I'm kidding...)

While that's not a very comfy-looking ledge, the guy on it is.

Janssen pays a visit to Gish, who serves him tea. She tells him more about how the good doctor would come to see her. 

He often brought toys for her elderly pooch, Caesar, whose been in a state of mourning ever since the doctor can no longer come around. 

Janssen has discovered that the deceased man was in some degree of debt and asks her if she ever lent him money or planned to will him hers. She's aghast at these suggestions and emphatically denies them.

He wants to see and speak to another neighbor, a young lady, but she's not in. Instead, he's accosted by the resident stud ("stud" is his own description of himself!) played by George Grizzard. 

Grizzard is a pilot, but apparently one with a fair degree of spare time. He fills it by tanning under a lamp and exercising (both on this home equipment and also by nailing any female around.) 

You may recall Grizzard as having played Blanche's deceased husband (as well as his brother) on The Golden Girls. 

No harm to Blanche, but I wasn't getting the fuss over him and his magnetic appeal. It's also a little amusing to see Grizzard, gay in real life, playing this Energizer Bunny level woman chaser. 

Okay 1966, now we're talking! Here we have a photographer shooting the latest fashions from a temperamental designer. The gal in the white skirt is assisting the models in getting camera ready. 

It's Miss Joan Collins, one of the patron saints of Poseidon's Underworld! She plays Janssen's soon-to-be ex wife, their divorce only days from being finalized. He calls her to help track down the missing apartment resident, who's a model. 

We live for 1960s shit like this. Very Valley of the Dolls (1967) Gillmore Girl in its aesthetic.

When the fussy-pants designer, played by Vito Scotti, flamboyantly demonstrates how he wants the model in yellow to pose, Collins begins to grin. 

With this, Scotti (who always played everything on a scale of 1 to 10 at ELEVEN) throws a mini fit, which causes Collins to fling a bon mot at him.

Janssen cajoles Begley into getting a search warrant so that they can enter the apartment of the MIA model. 

Upon entering, the stench of death is overwhelming. Sure enough, she's dead as a doornail in the bedroom. 

Alone and down in the dumps, Janssen receives a visit from Collins.

Whatever their troubles have been, there's still a chemistry between them. 

As they chew over the situation he's in, the bed looms in the background. 

They kiss and she tells him that she wants to be "good to the last drop" prior to their divorce. I found it fascinating that her Edith Head dress has fasteners in the shoulders (which she has to undo) in order to ensure that Collins' bra stays in place. my how we've changed. Now it's nothing to see stray bra straps all over the place... 

Before they make it to bed, it comes to light that they each have separate ideas about how his dilemma should be resolved. He has too much integrity to settle with guilty plea, even if the punishment might be suspended. 

Next he heads to the doctor's office and there meets nurse Stefanie Powers. The devoted assistant is packing up all of his supplies and belongings. 

She's initially friendly, but once she discovers who he is, she orders him out. 

As he heads to the building's elevator, it becomes clear that he's not alone. Looks might promising to me!

Soon, he's besieged by four college age dudes. 

They proceed to hit and kick the shit out of him.

All of this happens while the film turns psychedelic and tinted, with slow-motion. 

He's discovered, bloody and barely conscious, by a now changed Powers who is compelled to find out what happened and help him. 

She takes him back to the doctor's office and proceeds to clean and patch him up the best she can. He refuses to go to the emergency room.

Regardless of her devotion to the doctor, she can't help but see that Janssen is a man of decent character who's found himself in a horrible situation. 

Barely past this beat-down, he poses as an insurance investigator in order to find out more about the doctor's finances. He's confronted with a typically suave and urbane George Sanders (another Oscar winner) who allows him to tell his little tale before shooting him down.  

Back at the apartment complex, he runs across Grizzard again. 

Here Grizzard seems to be simultaneously channeling Maurice Chevalier and Jack Haley as The Tin Man!

He also meets up with Gish again, who is in mourning since the death of poor old Caesar. She's distraught over the death of her dog as well as the fact that the cemetery wouldn't let her add in any leftover toys after the dog's burial!

On the way out, he asks the always-flip Grizzard if he might pilot a chartered plane in order to head to Mexico, where the doctor did frequent charity work. After mulling it over, Grizzard agrees. 

Next, Janssen heads to this little pad, a gargantuan mansion which was the doctor's home. 

As he makes his way to the pool house, he's confronted by an old friend, one of his attackers, who happens to be the doctor's son. 

And inside the pool house is the doctor's widow. Miss Eleanor Parker! 

She's at loose ends, but not exactly what one would call "grieving." She's also more than a bit sloshed. 

Filmed one year after The Sound of Music (1965), the difference between this and Baroness Schraeder is remarkable. 

While he doesn't get a great deal of help out of her, he does get a passionate smack on the lips from the clawing, disillusioned widow. 

Back home, he receives a call from Grizzard letting him know that the plane is arranged for the next morning. (Grizzard's closet must have a hat shelf that looks like one from Western Costume!)

Practically right thereafter, Janssen collapses after drinking his customary buttermilk, which was apparently drugged as it waited on the porch from him from the milkman's delivery. As he's falling into unconsciousness, someone causes a gas leak into the home in order to polish him off!

He barely survives this only to be faced with his detective partner Wynn, who's got his gun drawn and who now wants to arrest him for a whole new murder...!

Janssen manages to weasel away from Wynn and promptly calls Grizzard back, telling him he no longer wants the plane, but would like some help with another venture. (Note how, in the standard of the time, Grizzard's nipples are made up to be as unnoticeable as possible.)

The story winds up at an unusual spot, the Eternal Rest Pet Cemetery! Should you want to check this movie out, a beautiful copy of it can be seen right here. 

:::BONUS PICS:::

On the movie's poster is the body of a bikini-clad girl. She has NO bearing on the story line at all...! The image was taken from this still photo of Grizzard and his poolside shenanigans. 

The image of Powers on the poster is from a different year/project and doesn't reflect the way she looks in the film. 

This publicity portrait of Miss Collins for the movie depicts her in a way that is unrelated to how she appears on screen, both in hair and dress. Incidentally, this is the first of two movies Collins made with Parker in which they don't cross paths, the second being Sunburn (1979.)

There's an interesting tidbit regarding this movie as it cross-connects with a famous Major League Baseball holdout. Los Angeles Dodgers pitchers Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale were in the midst of acrimonious salary negotiations and as a show that they meant business in not returning, both signed on to work in Warning Shot rather than report to training camp. A press conference, seen here, was held to that effect. In the end, they didn't wind up in the movie and went back to the ball field, with raises.

I enjoyed this publicity photo of Gish with famed designer Edith Head, who was in charge of the costumes for this movie. Head was at Paramount for 44 years until moving to Universal in 1968, not too awfully long after this film was made. Some aficionados of her work might be able to place some of the clothes from that photo shoot depicted in the film.

Lastly, this snap of Miss Gish and her canine costar. You can't teach an old dog new tricks? Ha ha! Till next time.