Shack Out on 101 Among the Strangest Cold War Spy Films Ever

Sep 29, 2011
Barry M. Grey

Shack Out on 101 poster - Image courtesy movieposter.com

If there was a movie genre called Schizoid Cinema, 1955's Shack Out on 101 would deserve a prominent spot in its hall of fame.

This is one weird little B-movie. Watching it, you have to wonder: did the filmmakers really know what they were trying to say? Because in terms of story, the movie's all over the map. Shack is a messy stew of exploitation, clunky romance, ‘50s communist obsession (see Invasion of the Body Snatchers) and some truly strange, presumably deliberate comic relief.

It’s also irresistible, campy fun, with a surprising cast of familiar faces and a goofy appeal that defies description.

Leading Man Frank Lovejoy Cops a Feel in Shack Out on 101

There’s an amateurish feel to this brief (80 minutes) 1955 low-budget feature from B-movie factory Allied Artists. For example, more than once, the music score fades abruptly in mid-scene, leaving you to wonder if the music editor was nodding off in the edit room.

And from the general sloppiness, you’d think director Edward Dein (who co-wrote the film with his wife, Mildred) might have been dubbed “One-take Ed.” How else to explain, in one scene, why the leading man takes his screen sweetie in his arms and actually cops a feel (with his thumbs) of her ample, straining-under-her-blouse breasts?

What, Ed, no time for retakes that day? Or was this a deliberately subversive moment in the repressed Eisenhower years?

In any event, the movie is an intriguing visit to 1950s Cinema Paranoia, with enough detours to make the ride a hoot for anyone willing to stick with it.

B-Movie Stalwart Whit Bissell in Featured Role

In Shack Out on 101, a greasy spoon along the Southern California coast is the hub for an odd mix of people, including nuclear physicist Sam (the ever-stoic, stiff-as-a-surfboard Frank Lovejoy), argumentative diner owner George (Keenan Wynn), a doofus short-order cook Slob (Lee Marvin), the diner’s sexy waitress Kotty (Terry Moore) and traveling salesman Eddie (the ubiquitous Whit Bissell, also famed for Invasion of the Body Snatchers). The cast also includes character actors Frank DeKova (TV’s F Troop) and Len Lesser (Uncle Leo on Seinfeld).

In particular, it’s surprising to see Wynn and Marvin in such a low-budget programmer – especially Marvin, since he made such a huge impact two years earlier in both The Wild One and The Big Heat, opposite Gloria Grahame.

Shack's over-the-top story centers on physicist-professor Sam, a key figure at a nearby nuclear research laboratory. When he’s not working on a top-secret project (presumably involving weapons of mass destruction) he’s hanging out at the little diner where his girlfriend Kotty works.

Call Him "Frank Lovejoyless"

As a couple, Sam and Kotty generate about as much heat as Ma and Pa Kettle. No wonder, since the leading man, the ever-sexless Frank Lovejoy, built a career playing bland, grim cops and other stern authority figures. (He should have billed himself Frank Lovejoyless.) It’s a tribute to the Bad Casting Gods that he’s paired here with Howard Hughes’ one-time studio plaything, eternal starlet Terry Moore.

Moore, who got top billing, was best known for Mighty Joe Young. On Shack, she had enough influence to get the title changed from Shack Up on 101, which she considered too suggestive.

(101, Incidentally, refers to the interstate that runs the length of California.)

Love Scene Built on Civics Lesson

Lovejoy and Moore share probably the cinema’s only makeout scene played to civics lesson dialogue. For example, as they get hot and heavy, sexy Sam has a quiz for his cutie:

Sam: Will you tell me something?

Kotty: Anything, Sam, anything.

Sam: What are the first amendments to the Constitution called?

Kotty: The Bill of Rights.

Sam: What form of government is this?

Kotty: The best!

Meantime, you wouldn’t suspect George's barren little diner would be caught up in a spy ring. Nor would you expect that seeming simpleton Slob – who’s forever hitting on hot Kotty – would be the secretly-smart swing man in an international spy ring. Go figure.

Physical Fitness Boom Lampooned in Film

The espionage scenes are in stark contrast with the “B” stories of this B-movie, especially the love-hate friendship of diner proprietor George and his cook. In fact, Shack’s most endearingly dumb scene depicts the two men skewering the then-nascent physical fitness movement on L.A's Venice Beach.

In the scene, George and Slob are working out with free weights in the sparsely-decorated diner. Neither sports so much as a discernible muscle. It’s so absurd, you have to assume the intent is comic relief: “How many times have I told you not to call these muscles?” yells the eternally-miffed George. “You wanna sound like an amateur? Call ‘em pecs.’”

Later, George declares, “I do this for myself. You wouldn’t believe it. You know Slob, at one time, I was so skinny, I was embarrassed to undress in front of myself.” (Insert rim-shot.)

“I see what you mean,” replies Slob. “But you know, it’s one thing, I don’t go for those guys on Muscle Beach. Their waists are so thin, there’s no room for any food.” (Alas, no laugh track to cue us.)

They poke each other in their respective (and non-existent) six-packs like a couple of schoolyard rivals. “But hey,” George declares, pointing proudly to his calf, “you won’t argue about these legs.”

“What’s wrong with mine?” Slob whines.

“Ah, they’re soft. Flabby. If you did what I told you to do, you’d have legs like mine.”

“You know what I really want?” Slob finally admits. “A big, thick neck.”

What, to match his big, thick skull?

Shack Out on 101 Capitalizes on 1950s Fear of Communists

On the surface, Shack Out on 101 catered to the era’s free-floating public fear of commie infiltration everywhere. (Curiously, the word “communist” is never uttered, although the Red Scare is clearly at the center of the espionage storyline.) But director Dein hedges his bets by adding the absurdist mix of comic and romantic elements.

Those storylines never really gel, but who cares? There’s too much fun here to care whether anything makes sense.

Shack Out on 101. Dir. Edward Dein. Perf. Terry Moore, Frank Lovejoy, Lee Marvin, Keenan Wynn, Whit Bissell, Frank DeKova, Len Lesser. Allied Artists, 1955. Running time: 80 min.