A great director, a wonderful cast, a skilled director of photography and lots of studio gloss results in a stinker of a movie, redeemed only by Clifton Webb's mugging and one medium-sized interaction by Evelyn Varden and Margalo Gillmore as they discuss small children. Otherwise this script is too studio bound, with the more interesting players stuffed into a car and Anne Francis -- looking gorgeous as always and particularly and appropriately vivacious, is stuck with William Lundigan, one of the more uninteresting leading men of the era.
This is a great pity as I went in hoping and expecting to like this movie. But the script is pretty much of a stinker.
This is a great pity as I went in hoping and expecting to like this movie. But the script is pretty much of a stinker.