Robert Stevens represents a sad and mystifying case of a director whose success on the small screen, notably in many of the 'Alfred Hitchcock presents' and early episodes of 'The Twilight Zone', failed to translate to the large although some would say that he did his best with the material at his disposal.
This marks the second collaboration between this director and one of this viewer's favourite actors Peter Finch, also starring Jane Fonda during her 'Method' period, the brilliant Angela Lansbury and the bland Arthur Hill.
It is of course far more entertaining to observe characters suffering in exotic locations and luxurious settings than in urban tenements but here the 'woe is me' element proves rather tiresome. Like all the best actors Mr. Finch is a very good listener and in this his ears are assailed by the constant neuroses of a mentally and physically scarred wife and of a fragile beauty suffering from weak lungs who is stifled by the good intentions of her over-protective husband who just happens to be his best friend.
The novel by Susan Ertz from which this has been adapted assumes the proportions of Greek tragedy but here alas it has been reduced to glamorous soap-opera. One feels that a producer with as impressive a track record as John Houseman should have known better.
Jane Fonda's undoubted star quality shines through despite a ludicrous Queen of the Nile wig and Angela Lansbury, neither for the first nor last time, steals the show. Neither actress was happy with the final product whilst Miss Fonda expressed surprise that it was even released. Mr. Finch had opined that Mr. Stevens was the most exciting director with whom he had ever worked. One cannot help but wonder how long he maintained that opinion.
For those interested in such things, this film marks the final credit of Orry-Kelly, one of Hollywood's greatest costume designers to whom numerous actresses from Bette Davis to Marilyn Monroe owed an immeasurable debt.
Having run out of chances, Robert Stevens returned whence he came, to the small screen.
This marks the second collaboration between this director and one of this viewer's favourite actors Peter Finch, also starring Jane Fonda during her 'Method' period, the brilliant Angela Lansbury and the bland Arthur Hill.
It is of course far more entertaining to observe characters suffering in exotic locations and luxurious settings than in urban tenements but here the 'woe is me' element proves rather tiresome. Like all the best actors Mr. Finch is a very good listener and in this his ears are assailed by the constant neuroses of a mentally and physically scarred wife and of a fragile beauty suffering from weak lungs who is stifled by the good intentions of her over-protective husband who just happens to be his best friend.
The novel by Susan Ertz from which this has been adapted assumes the proportions of Greek tragedy but here alas it has been reduced to glamorous soap-opera. One feels that a producer with as impressive a track record as John Houseman should have known better.
Jane Fonda's undoubted star quality shines through despite a ludicrous Queen of the Nile wig and Angela Lansbury, neither for the first nor last time, steals the show. Neither actress was happy with the final product whilst Miss Fonda expressed surprise that it was even released. Mr. Finch had opined that Mr. Stevens was the most exciting director with whom he had ever worked. One cannot help but wonder how long he maintained that opinion.
For those interested in such things, this film marks the final credit of Orry-Kelly, one of Hollywood's greatest costume designers to whom numerous actresses from Bette Davis to Marilyn Monroe owed an immeasurable debt.
Having run out of chances, Robert Stevens returned whence he came, to the small screen.