Part of the late 40s fortune teller phase which also included Nightmare Alley, this features Edward G Robinson as a fortune teller who starts as a shonk then realises he has a genuine gift. He has a strong control over heiress Gail Russell, whose death Robinson predicts.
I'm not a big fan of true psychic movies because it always feels like it's cheating; that's how it is here as well - Robinson predicts the future, it comes true but in a slightly different way. There are some effective moments but I couldn't helping thinking "lazy scriptwriting" a lot.
Robinson is in good form as the psychic - he plays it in his customary no-nonsense manner, which helps make the part less airy-fairy. Gail Russell adds some solid "tragic ethereal victim" aura (in part because of her own real life fate) as the heiress who seems to be doomed. John Lund is wet and useless as always as Russell's love. William Demarest provides some tough talking sass as a DA and there's a surprise ending (if overloaded by exposition) where the cops shoot Robinson dead while trying to save Russell's life and the cops don't get punished for it.
John Farrow and his editors have jazzed it up by going non linear - we start with Russell about to kill herself then flashback - and it has the pleasures of films from this time (crisp black and white photography, expert character actors) but I found this disappointing.
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