Trash comes in many appearances, and no matter how you disguise it, it still remains trash. In the case of this Ross Hunter soap opera, over-produced after the success of "Magnificent Obsession" and "Imitation of Life", the result is a re-tread of what star Lana Turner had done (much better) in the original "The Postman Always Rings Twice". Here, she is again married to a much older man, the possessive Lloyd Nolan, a bed ridden tyrant intent on making her life miserable. He has her followed everywhere and violently objects when she wants to learn how to drive so she doesn't need to utilize their chauffeur (a wasted Ray Walston). What comes very apparent is that the bored Turner is having an affair, with Nolan's own doctor (Anthony Quinn), whose obsession with Turner borders on insanity. A syringe filled with air quickly dispatches Nolan, and Turner and Quinn spend the rest of the film trying to keep their affair secret while dealing with an apparent blackmailer.
Who could the blackmailer be? Dour housekeeper Anna May Wong (who suffers racial indignities at the hands of Walston, the most obvious suspect), Nolan's attorney Richard Basehart, the young son of a former business rival (John Saxon) or his daughter from his first marriage (Sandra Dee) are the apparent suspects as the party sending the hand-written letter. While it is all attractive looking and Turner is still lovely, Quinn is totally off-putting in this role, constantly reminding himself of his Hippocratic oath and citing moral laws he's already broken. The screenplay is too self-conscious of its own moral flaws and keeps trying to manipulate you into empathizing with the lovers because of the horrid husband Turner had to suffer with.
Usually, I like these types of films in a guilty pleasure sort of way; The trashier, the better. However, in the case of this film, it somehow feels artificial, like someone took a pulp novel, transported it into a screenplay as originally written, found a bunch of available major stars and threw it together without regards to adding in any quality. The acting is badly melodramatic, the characters feel one dimensional, and the whole feeling is of a soufflé that is about to be touched and collapsed without being serveable.
Who could the blackmailer be? Dour housekeeper Anna May Wong (who suffers racial indignities at the hands of Walston, the most obvious suspect), Nolan's attorney Richard Basehart, the young son of a former business rival (John Saxon) or his daughter from his first marriage (Sandra Dee) are the apparent suspects as the party sending the hand-written letter. While it is all attractive looking and Turner is still lovely, Quinn is totally off-putting in this role, constantly reminding himself of his Hippocratic oath and citing moral laws he's already broken. The screenplay is too self-conscious of its own moral flaws and keeps trying to manipulate you into empathizing with the lovers because of the horrid husband Turner had to suffer with.
Usually, I like these types of films in a guilty pleasure sort of way; The trashier, the better. However, in the case of this film, it somehow feels artificial, like someone took a pulp novel, transported it into a screenplay as originally written, found a bunch of available major stars and threw it together without regards to adding in any quality. The acting is badly melodramatic, the characters feel one dimensional, and the whole feeling is of a soufflé that is about to be touched and collapsed without being serveable.