Recent discovery: One Shoe Makes It Murder

Riding on the momentum of his two performances as Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe — in 1975’s Farewell, My Lovely, and 1978’s The Big Sleep — well-seasoned Robert Mitchum was a logical choice to play the similarly world-weary former-cop-turned-reluctant PI in 1982’s One Shoe Makes It Murder, a modestly enjoyable TV movie adaptation of Eric Bercovici’s So Little Cause for Caroline, which had been published the previous year. (Bercovici wrote the teleplay as well, hiding behind the pseudonym Felix Culver.) Mitchum also supplies the laconic voice-over we’ve come to expect in such films. Director William Hale was best known for helming episodes of TV shows such as Cannon, Kojak, Barnaby Jones and The Streets of San Francisco — are you detecting a pattern here? — and he does his best, given an obviously limited budget, to echo the atmosphere of classic 1940s and ’50s film noir entries. Unfortunately, cinematographer Terry K. Meade apparently didn’t get that memo, since far too many of his undistinguished set-ups take place during brightly sunlit daytime hours, but composer Bruce Broughton saves the day with an appropriately smoky jazz score.

“I don’t know how I got this particular film,” Broughton recalled, in the soundtrack liner notes, “but I’ve always been grateful that I did. I had never done a jazz score before, and the idea of writing out so many pages with only chords and no notes accompanying them made me very anxious.”

 

He need not have worried, given the top-notch jazz musicians with whom he worked: Gary Foster, tenor sax; Larry Bunker, vibes; Mike Lang, piano; Ray Brown, bass; and no less than Shelly Manne on drums.

 

The story begins as Harold “Shill” Shillman (Mitchum) is hired by South Lake Tahoe casino manager Carl Charnock (Mel Ferrer) to find his wife, Caroline (Cathie Shirriff), who went missing just as gambling authorities closed the casino because of vaguely specified funny business. Although initially reluctant — “Lately, I seem to specialize in mistakes,” Shill reflects, in voiceover — the generous $10,000 retainer persuades him to accept the job. Charnock suggests starting at the San Francisco apartment they also own. One quick trip later, Shill is surprised to find Caroline at home in the top-story apartment ... and she seems genuinely puzzled by his presence, insisting that her husband knows full well she’s there, since they talk every day on the phone.

 

When Shill starts to relay this information from a street-level phone booth, he’s shocked to see Caroline suddenly swan-dive from her balcony: Meade’s sole artistic touch, since we — and Shill — view this through the phone booth’s glass top. Although her death has been staged to look like a suicide, investigating SF cop Carmona (José Pérez) immediately smells a rat, because Caroline hit the ground wearing only one shoe. The other still is in her apartment, well away from the balcony ... and nobody would walk that far wearing just one shoe. Ergo, it’s murder, and Carmona believes that Shill knows more than he’s telling (which genuinely isn’t the case). But if it is murder, how did it happen ... and who killed her?

 

Shill spends much of his time with Fay Reid (Angie Dickinson), a former call girl, twice married and divorced, who latches onto him during his initial visit with Charnock. Like Shill, she’s trying to outrun demons from her past; the question is whether she somehow fits into what soon becomes a very puzzling scenario. The story aside, the film gets considerable warmth from the teaming of Mitchum and Dickinson, both persuasively conveying Shill and Fay’s damaged psyches, and drawing pleasure from each other’s presence.

Sidebar characters include Charnock’s rather-too-helpful right-hand-man, Smiley Copell (John Harkins); the smarmy Joe Hervey (Howard Hesseman), one of Fay’s former husbands; Rudy (Asher Brauner), the casino masseur and pool attendant; and Chick (Bill Henderson), the mechanic who looks after Caroline’s gorgeous white Rolls Royce convertible.

 

Broughton’s luxuriously atmospheric title theme opens with a piano filigree, followed by the primary 1-1-2-3/1-1-2/1-1-3 motif delivered on smoldering sax, backed by lovely piano comping. Strings swell, as the sax and piano develop the tune; it’s simultaneously lovely, haunting and melancholy ... absolutely perfect for such a story. This theme repeats when Shill gives Fay a ride to her sister’s house in Vallejo, en route to San Francisco (“Ride to Vallejo” and “To San Francisco”); and when Shill later follows up a clue in Southern California (“Back to Los Angeles”). 

 

Early scenes between Mitchum and Dickinson are backed by meditative bass, vibes and piano touches (“Shill and Fay” and “Drink and Talk”), as the two warily dance around each other’s comfort zones. The sax and strings turn mocking and contemplative, when Shill initially spars with Chartock’s wife (“Finding Caroline and Caroline’s Fall”), and, a bit later, when he returns to the casino (“The Next Day and Back to the Lodge”). Plucked strings and crashing bass signal the surprise revelation (“Confrontation and Burning the Film”), as Shill identifies the killer ... but at a cost. Soft bass, vibes and piano shadow Shill’s final chat with Charnock, after which the end credits roll against a sadder, more wistful variation of the primary theme.

The full score was released in December 2024 as The Bruce Broughton Collection Volume 1, alongside his score for 1981’s Killjoy, a hilariously overcooked murder mystery in a hospital setting. The latter is sinister orchestral shading, rather than jazz, but it did bring Broughton one of his early Primetime Emmy nominations. (He ultimately was nominated in that category an impressive 17 times, winning an even more impressive nine times.)