It takes a lot of swallow the premise of this film – Lana Turner accidentally kills her lover who she’s about to dump (Ricardo Montalban) so is blackmailed by her spiteful mother in law (Constance Bennett) into giving up her husband and child. Then years later comes back to be defended for murder by her son.
If you smell “camp classic” you’d be right – you’ve got a way too old Tuner wearing exotic gowns and suffering terribly, Montalban as a lover, Bennett as a bitch, John Forsyth in the Effrem Zimbalist Jnr role, dingy dives in Europe, Ross Hunter as producer, Turner being drunk on a bed with neon lights flashing just outside the window.
The premise is so ridiculous the movie doesn’t work and the writers compound the error by piling on the contrivances eg her son defending her for murder without knowing who she is. And why even bother having that sequence with that European guy who rescues Turner from the snow and falls for her? Keir Dullea waltzes in like he’s on work experience, and Turner is dreadful and far too old.. Burgess Meredith gives the sole good performance as a blackmailer although Montalban is always professional. Garbage.
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