John GARFIELD is a great coiled spring of an actor because you never know what he is going to do next - but you know that it will be right. The original antecedent of all the Marlon Brandos, the James Deans, the Robert de Niros and the Al Pacinos and just as good as any Method actor working today. However, this movie is somewhat overrated – despite the presence of said GARFIELD.
The direction is strictly journeyman stuff and Lana Turner's melodramatic acting style is odd and out of place in contrast to GARFIELD's more realistic, Stanislavskian style. This is exacerbated by the decision to make Lana Turner fit the blonde bombshell stereotype that does not truly agree with her. She has great, long legs but is a more intelligent actress than that; raising a credibility issue about the couple's sexual relationship and the reason for its existence. Her couture is also an issue in that wearing white - most of the time - makes her look more ghostly than the lustful and pseudo pure image required for the part. A strange piece of miscasting that almost - but not quite - works.
Yet, despite all of these reservations, the moral poison of their joint murder does destroy their relationship in a very convincing and involving way. This leads to the most suitable retribution at the film's end that also makes an emotionally satisfying conclusion for the audience.
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