HOUSE OF BAMBOO: these sticks left me feeling stoned

Robert Ryan was one of post war Hollywood's finest, most talented actors. He graced more than 70 films over a 30 year career, always giving his best in a quietly professional way regardless of the subject matter. When he died in 1973 film critic Paul Zimmerman paid a wonderful tribute, describing him as a man who "left behind a lifetime of roles too small for his talent."
I like to think Zimmerman had HOUSE OF BAMBOO in mind when he wrote that line.

Not to be confused with the catchy Andy Williams song of the same name, this 1955 crime thriller is considerably less memorable and surprisingly tedious and disappointing despite Ryan's presence.

Co-written and directed by cult favorite Samuel Fuller this film promises much but delivers little. The combination of star, director, setting (a post World War 2 Tokyo still under American control) and story is intriguing but there's too much talk, too little action and too much attention paid to the (admittedly) beautifully designed and constructed interiors of Japanese houses where most of the aforementioned talking takes place.

As the increasingly psychotic boss of a crime syndicate, Ryan is magnificent, effortlessly dominating every scene he's in and playing the part with not a hint of artifice or acting. From his very first appearance, sitting on the corner of a table with his feet dangling just above the floor as he issues orders to his henchmen, it's clear he is going to own this movie. But as the story unfolds it becomes obvious that it's not worthy of his talents. It's slow, wordy and unengaging, provoking a sense of drowsiness which can rapidly overwhelm the viewer if seated in a comfy chair. 

Co-star Robert Stack does nothing to help matters. His performance is more wooden than the titular bamboo, and his insistence on barking every line like the voice-over for a late night infommercial merely reduces his character's credibility even further.

Fuller almost redeems himself with a climactic and impressively stylish shoot-out on a giant revolving globe perched a-top a city center high rise but it's not enough to absolve the dirge which has gone before. As the final credits rolled I was left with an overwhelming sense of disappointment at what could have been if only Fuller had focused more on entertaining the audience and less on indulging his own whims.