Another crazed logic-free over-acted melodrama in the same late Forties/early Fifties hothouse mode of Warners' Beyond The Forest, The Damned Don't Cry and This Woman Is Dangerous, this time sans the stellar fuel tank of Bette Davis or Joan Crawford. Judge this rating accordingly-- if you enjoyed aforementioned pictures, you'll get a kick out this; if not, take shelter. . .stormy weather indeed.
No need to rehash plot revealed by earlier posters, a Texas-set dramatic chile con carne liberally laced with murder, unrequited love and dark secrets set in one of those those only-in-the-movies remote desert communities where people live miles apart in remote rancheros. . .but still show up in gowns and white dinner jackets at swank poolside barbecues that would put Manhattanites to shame.
Although the smoldering-yet-vanilla Richard Todd, underused Ruth Roman and Zachery Scott(in a "hey-it's-a-paycheck" role that comes out of nowhere and getsthere fast) are ostensible stars, show is stolen by cactus-chomping Mercedes McCambridge in (apparently unintentional) schizophrenic role as a butch desert denizen (think of her role in Johnny Guitar, only less feminine) who not only has inexplicable crush on charmless Todd after he has allegedly killed his wife. . .but is nevertheless selected to serve on jury during his murder trial to boot! Things go off-cliff (as does at least one vehicle) from there.
Whatever film lacks in reality, it more than makes up for in implausibility and psychological chaos that would baffle Freud. But rest assured, everyone gets their just deserts(sic). If you're in right frame of mind, a yucca minute.
No need to rehash plot revealed by earlier posters, a Texas-set dramatic chile con carne liberally laced with murder, unrequited love and dark secrets set in one of those those only-in-the-movies remote desert communities where people live miles apart in remote rancheros. . .but still show up in gowns and white dinner jackets at swank poolside barbecues that would put Manhattanites to shame.
Although the smoldering-yet-vanilla Richard Todd, underused Ruth Roman and Zachery Scott(in a "hey-it's-a-paycheck" role that comes out of nowhere and getsthere fast) are ostensible stars, show is stolen by cactus-chomping Mercedes McCambridge in (apparently unintentional) schizophrenic role as a butch desert denizen (think of her role in Johnny Guitar, only less feminine) who not only has inexplicable crush on charmless Todd after he has allegedly killed his wife. . .but is nevertheless selected to serve on jury during his murder trial to boot! Things go off-cliff (as does at least one vehicle) from there.
Whatever film lacks in reality, it more than makes up for in implausibility and psychological chaos that would baffle Freud. But rest assured, everyone gets their just deserts(sic). If you're in right frame of mind, a yucca minute.