Oh, brother. Gimme, a break! When Taylor is good, she's pretty good. But when she is bad, she is very, very bad. And in this she was that. She's like a big doll, all grown up, with a bosom big enough for two. Voluptuous, sensual, sensitive, sincere in general, but in this film she gets swallowed up in car chases and hysteria. Her little girl's voice is not commensurate with her stature, not unlike Lana Turner's voice. But whereas Taylor could act and was sincere in her attention, Turner seemed to be always looking in a mirror, fancying herself. In this picture, there's a lot over-reach, nothing subtle or real (Except for Dunnock and Field). Never read the book, nor shall I ever. I've read O'Hara and he's generally good, but, if this movie is anything like his novel, I'd rather eat a ham sandwich. And I don't eat meat. Oh, and by the way. Laurence Harvey is never not Laurence Harvey, all intensity, without much to show for it. If you like over-wrought soap operas with a lot of wind-bag speeches, this mish-mash will the brew for you.
Review of BUtterfield 8
