Hollywood paranoia in the 1970s ensured that any type of electronic surveillance was treated with suspicion. Cops, too, were almost certain to be corrupt. Although he would subscribe to such paranoia and implicit corruption in Three Days of the Condor (1973), in his movie debut director Sydney Pollack turns these concepts on their head.
Crisis center volunteer Alan (Sidney Poitier) faces a battle against time to save potential suicide Inga (Anne Bancroft), using his own powers of empathy and persuasion, but helped more than a little by dedicated policemen and the system of tracking calls. On the one hand the ticking clock ensures tension remains high, on the other Alan own’s battle with his nascent abilities brings a high level of anxiety to the proceedings especially as we learn of the particular circumstances driving Inge.
Alan is studying to be a doctor and he carries within him the arrogance of his profession, namely the power to cure. But that is within the realms of the physical. When it comes to dealing with the mental side of a patient he discovers he is ill-equipped. The intimacy he strikes up with Inga ensures he cannot seek relieve by handing over the problem to anyone else, the fear being that the minute he introduces another voice the spell will be broken. His medical training means only that he knows far better than a layman the effect of the pills the woman has taken and can accurately surmise how long she has to live. In the process he experiences a wide range of emotions from caring and sympathetic to angry and frustrated.
By sheer accident Inga’s otherwise loving husband, Mark (Steven Hill), skipper of a fishing vessel, has discovered that their son is not his. On being rejected, she has nothing to live for.
The simple plotline is incredibly effective. The two main characters never meet but we discover something of Inga’s life through flashbacks as her life gradually unravels and elements of insanity creep in. Alan, meanwhile, is shut in a room, relying on feedback from colleagues such as psychiatrist Dr Coburn (Telly Savalas) and others monitoring the police investigation attempting to discover where she is.
The fact that there actually was a suicide crisis center operating in Seattle (where the film is set) will have come as news to the bulk of the audience for whom suicide was a taboo subject and virtually never discussed in public or in the media. The fact that the telephone network could be used so effectively to trace calls would not have been such a surprise since it was an ingredient of previous cop movies, but it had never been so realistically portrayed as here, results never instant but the consequence of dogged work.
Initially, the movie treats Seattle as an interesting location with aerial shots over the credits and other scenes on the shore or seafront, but gradually the picture withdraws into itself, the city masked in darkness and the principals locked in their respective rooms.
Sidney Poitier is superb, having to contain his emotions as he tries to deal with a confused woman, at various times thinking he is over the worst only to discover that he is making little headway and if the movie had gone on for another fifteen minutes might have reflected how impotent he had actually been. Anne Bancroft (The Pumpkin Eater, 1964) matches him in excellence, in a role that charts her disintegration.
The fact that their character never met and that their conversations were conducted entirely by telephone says a lot about their skills as actors in conveying emotion without being in the same room as the person with whom they are trying to communicate. Telly Savalas (The Dirty Dozen, 1967) delivers a quieter performance than you might expect were you accustomed to his screen tics and flourishes. Ed Asner (The Venetian Affair, 1966) and Steven Hill, in his last film for 15 years, are effective.
The bold decision to film in black-and-white pays off, ensuring there is no color to divert the eye, and that dialog, rather than costumes or scenery, dominates. Pollack allows two consummate actors to do their stuff while toning down all other performances, so that background does not detract from foreground.
Winning the Oscar for Lilies of the Field (1963) had not turned Sidney Poitier into a leading man and in fact he took second billing, each time to Richard Widmark, in his next two pictures. Anne Bancroft was in similar situation after being named Best Actress for The Miracle Worker (1962) and although she took top billing in The Pumpkin Eater (1964) it was her first film after her triumph and, besides, had been made in Britain. And for both 1967 would be when they were both elevated to proper box office stardom. Written by Stirling Silliphant (In the Heat of the Night, 1967) based on a newspaper article by Shana Alexander.
Given the greater awareness of suicide today, this will strike a contemporary chord.
As the High Noon of the psychological thriller this more than delivers. Gripping stuff. And it’s worth considering the courage required to undertake such subject matter for your first movie.
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The Magnificent 60s 
Something I found:
On 6 Jan 1965, DV announced that Paramount Pictures had acquired Voice in the Wind, Stirling Silliphant’s screenplay based on “Decision to Die,” a 29 May 1964 Life magazine article about a real-life Seattle, WA, woman who attempted to commit suicide. Silliphant reportedly developed the story as a 100-page treatment for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM), but the studio turned down the project amid creative differences. Paramount production president Howard W. Koch then purchased the treatment and signed Sidney Poitier to star.
A few months later, the 21 Apr 1965 DV indicated that the title had since been changed to Call Me Back! The film marked the motion picture directing debut of Sydney Pollack, who previously had directed and starred in numerous television programs.
According to the 3 Jun 1965 DV, Elizabeth Ashley was originally cast as “Inga Dyson” in Jan 1965, but was later informed by a third party that she had been replaced by Anne Bancroft without any written notice. Due to her commitment to the project, Ashley had allegedly turned down another opportunity worth $100,000, and consequently sued the studio for that amount (plus a single dollar in damages). The 3 Nov 1965 Var reported that the suit was settled out of court.
A 25 Jun 1965 DV production chart indicated that principal photography began 14 Jun 1965 under the new title, The Slender Thread. The 16 Jun 1965 Var explained that a 1960 NBC teleplay also titled Call Me Back had recently entered negotiations as a feature project, and Paramount agreed to relinquish rights to the name.
Filming took place at the Paramount studios in Hollywood, CA, and on locations in Seattle. According to a 24 Jul 1965 LAT article, Poitier’s scenes were filmed on a sound stage while Bancroft read her lines offstage or through a receiver in her dressing room, which was wired with a live telephone connection. The real woman who inspired Bancroft’s character reportedly visited the Seattle set with her family, and the 27 Jun 1965 LAT claimed that the production spent approximately $12,000 each day on location. Filming concluded there in late Jun or early Jul 1965, as indicated by items in the 29 Jun 1965 and 1 Jul 1965 DV reporting the cast and crew’s recent return to Los Angeles.
According to the 9 Dec 1965 DV, The Slender Thread was scheduled to open 15 Dec 1965 for a special engagement at the Stanley Warner Theater in Beverly Hills, CA, to qualify for Academy Award consideration. The 17 Nov 1965 Var stated that a New York City opening was set to take place on 23 Dec 1965, with general release to follow in early 1966.
The film received Academy Award nominations for Art Direction (Black-and-White) and Costume Design (Black-and-White).
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Thanks again for your excellent contributions.
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