Kinda surprised Brian DePalma didn't direct the '84 remake since this 1946 original resembles a DePalma film in its alternation of silliness with empathy toward its characters as well as a general floridity of tone. In short, everything seems overdone and overstated, with subtlety and nuance banished from the set. In their place you have classic scenes of unintended comedy, such as the ones set in the Indian Holy Place, which reminded me of an Esalen weekend in New Mexico, and the ol Hypnosis Coin Trick that cures John Payne's pain instantly and where Ty Power's spiritual seeker comes across as a younger, better looking Prof. Marvel. However, just as in a DePalma film, at the point when you're about to bail on the damn thing, director Edmund Goulding manages to pull off an extended bit like the raffish night club in Paris or Clifton Webb's serio/comic death that gets your attention and affects you more than you thought it would. The same goes for the acting. Balancing an over the top Anne Baxter or Webb's inability to get out of the Waldo Lydecker straight jacket you have a relatively restrained, intelligent performance from Power (minus the coin schtick) and a quite good one from Gene Tierney who is tasked with the difficult role of embodying American Postwar Materialism and manages to acquit herself well. So let's give this too long, too sedulously faithful adaptation of Maugham, complete with Herbert Marshall as the author himself in one of the great cinematic fifth wheel turns, a generous B minus 'cause I made it through the whole 2 hr/30 min without once using the fast forward.
Review of The Razor's Edge
