“That tail I’ve been dragging to all the restaurants? It, ah, doesn’t come off.”
In Night Tide (1961) sailor Johnny Drake, on weekend leave, and wandering in search for what all sailors wander and search for, finds himself in a bar in Santa Monica, wherein he finds the attractive lady Mora listening to flautist (and apparent nominative determinism flouter!) Paul Horn and his band roil up the joint. He attempts the standard maneuvers, and when she’s expelled from the establishment by a cranky old hag, he leaves with her and continues his aggressive courtship, at length extracting a promise of a date, and her occupation: a side show attraction, as a mermaid.
He arrives at the appointed hour, morning, to share breakfast with her, but on the way in he encounters other members of the entertainment community, the proprietors and operators of the carousel, who evidence some discomfort at the mention of Mora.
After breakfast, he is introduced not only to the side show attraction, but its manager and barker, Capt. Samuel Murdock, late of the Royal Navy, who invites Drake to visit him at his home someday. Mora identifies him as her godfather.
Romantic encounters ensue between Drake and Mora: the beach, dinners, a visit to Mora during her work as a mermaid. Meanwhile, the carousel operators eventually warn Drake that the previous two boyfriends of Mora ended up drowned. Confronted, if quite delicately, with the accusation, Mora suggests she may be a Siren, luring men to their deaths, which Drake politely declines to believe.
But when the old hag of the bar puts in an appearance, he follows her, believing she may be harassing Mora, for the expulsion at the bar seemed motiveless – and their dialog was in Greek, not English. She’s a speedy devil, managing to outwit the far younger Drake without apparent effort, but a stymied Drake sees a door open and there’s Captain Murdock. Invited within, Murdock plies Drake with liquor and reveals that he found Mora as an orphan on a small, Greek island, in a blurry speech of ambiguities, hinting at supernatural entities.
And the next time Drake sees Mora, they go scuba diving, during which Mora cuts his air hose with a knife. Drake’s escape to the surface is harrowing; Mora swims off. Surely this ends the relationship?
Alas, we’re to never see Mora alive again, despite Drake’s determination to forgive and forget. When Drake visits her at her attraction, Murdock is languidly barking, as barkers don’t do, but Drake finds Mora dead in her display. Murdock, well-soused, appears with a gun, but is ineffectual. Later, at the police station, Murdock confesses to all the crimes involving the boyfriends, claiming he can’t bear the thought of losing Mora to another man. But what of the old hag, not to mention Mora’s apparent ease with long times spent underwater? Does this invalidate Murdock’s claim?
Drake, meanwhile, finds one of the carousel operators has become romantically interested in him. Carry on, Drake.
This comes on as a creepy flick, as Dennis Hopper, playing Drake, is quite a bit off the average American sailor. Add to that the fact that this print – and perhaps it was meant this way – of the movie is subtly discolored, leading to the observation that sometimes the faces of the characters were green, or pink, or other colors, which made for an unsettling ambiance that lead us on in wonderment.
But the ending comes across as a cheat, as if the storytellers drew back from where their logic had taken them; a disappointment, I fear. Are we seeing honest action-reaction, or is this all just a bit artificial?
If you’re a Paul Horn fan or a Dennis Hopper completist, this may be for you. Otherwise, if you like creepy avant-garde, it might appeal. But for us, it was a bit laborious getting to the end.
