It’s hard to believe that Curtis Hanson—the man who directed The River Wild, the acclaimed L.A. Confidential, and the underrated Wonder Boys, got his start with Sweet Kill, which he directed and wrote, but it’s true. Everyone has to start somewhere. Even Francis Ford Coppola started in nudie flicks. Sweet Kill stars Tab Hunter, who plays a sort of beach hunk version of Norman Bates who stabs women when he’s sexually aroused—hence the movie’s alternate title, The Arousers. Those arousers, who you’ll see below in a series of production photos made for the film, include Roberta Collins. Cherie Latimer, Brandy Herred, and others.
Sweet Kill is an interesting mood piece but we can’t call the movie a success on the whole because it isn’t scary—an aspiration for slasher flicks (its main inspiration Psycho is scary, after all). The main problem here is the acting, that bugaboo of ambitious young directors the world over. Collins is okay, but Hunter is out of his depth, and the other participants clearly didn’t have the time and talent to hone their performances. In the end what you get is a lot of standing around, a fair amount of nudity, and minor tension derived from whether Hunter can somehow curb his murderous urges. Spoiler alert: he can’t. Sweet Kill premiered in the U.S. today in 1972.
Humphrey Bogart tries to fake drive with Ida Lupino in his ear in 1941’s High Sierra.
Dorothy Malone, Rock Hudson, and a rear projection of Long Beach, in 1956’s Written on the Wind.
Ann-Margret and John Forsythe in 
Two shots from 1946’s 
Shelley Winters, looking quite lovely here, fawns over dapper William Powell during a night drive in 1949’s Take One False Step.
William Talman, James Flavin, and Adele Jergens share a tense ride in 1950’s Armored Car Robbery.
William Bendix rages in 1949’s The Big Steal.
Frank Sinatra drives contemplatively in Young at Heart, from 1954.
George Sanders drives Ingrid Bergman through Italy, and she returns the favor, in 1954’s Viaggio in Italia.
Harold Huber, Lyle Talbot, Barbara Stanwyck and her little dog too, from 1933’s Ladies They Talk About.
Virginia Huston tells Robert Mitchum his profile should be cast in bronze in 1947’s 
Ann Sheridan hangs onto to an intense George Raft in 1940’s 
Peggy Cummins and John Dall suddenly realize they’re wearing each other’s glasses in 1950’s 
John Ireland and Mercedes McCambridge in 1951’s The Scarf.
James Mason drives an unconscious Henry O’Neill in 1949’s The Reckless Moment. Hopefully they’re headed to an emergency room.
Marcello Mastroianni driving Walter Santesso, Mary Janes, and an unknown in 1960’s La dolce vita.
Tony Curtis thrills Piper Laurie with his convertible in 1954’s Johnny Dark.
Janet Leigh drives distracted by worries, with no idea she should be thinking less about traffic and cops than cross-dressing psychos in 1960’s Psycho.
We’re not sure who the passengers are in this one (the shot is from 1960’s On the Double, and deals with Danny Kaye impersonating Wilfrid Hyde-White) but the driver is Diana Dors.
Kirk Douglas scares the bejesus out of Raquel Welch in 1962’s Two Weeks in Another Town. We’re familiar with her reaction, which is why we’re glad the Pulp Intl. girlfriends don’t need to drive here in Europe.
Robert Mitchum again, this time in the passenger seat, with Jane Greer driving (and William Bendix tailing them—already seen in panel ten), in 1949’s 
James Mason keeps cool as Jack Elam threatens him as Märta Torén watches from the passenger seat in 1950’s One Way Street.
And finally, to take a new perspective on the subject, here’s Bogart and Lizabeth Scott in 1947’s 
murder and for showing Janet Leigh in her bra and in bed with a man, but for being the first film to show a flushing toilet—an affront to bluenoses though the contents were merely a torn up note. Peeping Tom pushed the envelope farther and did it first, showing the killer Mark Lewis preying on sex workers and nude models, showing nudie reel 
evan a woman as kind and credulous as Anna Massey just doesn’t ring true. There are men who are projects, and there are men who are lost causes—are we right, girls? That’s what the Pulp Intl. girlfriends say anyway. But Peeping Tom is a film every cinephile should see. The moral objections of contemporary critics seem quaint now—many hated being forced to experience the murders from the killer’s perspective, but the viewer’s loss of choice echoes the killer’s helplessness to control himself, and that may very well be Powell’s best trick.
twenty-five films on the 
