Some willingness to believe the unlikely is necessary for most movies, but this one asks us to be too gullible to live. Rosalind Russell is threatened by her producer/former lover that, if she marries, he will tell her fiance things about her that will make him shrink from her in disgust and regard her as unclean. Roz Russell? The sophisticated, competent, affable woman who clearly has her head screwed on straight? Who would believe THAT? And yet, from the way Roz reacts, it seems he does have the goods on her.
Then there's Sydney Greenstreet as the head of the NY homicide squad. That's right--for a job like that, who else would they get but a fat old slow-moving Englishman with a horror-movie laugh? Who investigates the murder by going to a suspect's house for cocktails?
Intelligent and soigne, Roz is always good value, and the theatre setting is appealing, with its somewhat curdled glamour. But any Broadway play with such ludicrous implausibilities would be laughed off the stage.
Then there's Sydney Greenstreet as the head of the NY homicide squad. That's right--for a job like that, who else would they get but a fat old slow-moving Englishman with a horror-movie laugh? Who investigates the murder by going to a suspect's house for cocktails?
Intelligent and soigne, Roz is always good value, and the theatre setting is appealing, with its somewhat curdled glamour. But any Broadway play with such ludicrous implausibilities would be laughed off the stage.