keylight-4

Here's the plot: Jane Wyman, the most boring actress of all time, is pushing forty and leads a lonely, dreary life in World War II-era New York, working in an office and living with her embittered mother who was deserted by her husband years before. One rainy day she meets loud, lovable soldier Van Johnson as both of them are standing in a crowd of people, waiting for the rain to let up. Johnson's Pollyana philosophy of life, which he booms out in a crowd to the annoyance of everybody present, probably, somehow appeals to Jane, and they end up going……somewhere together, I forget where.

He begins squiring her around New York, and finally gets orders to ship out, at which point he kisses her for the first time, as far as I could tell, and tells her he loves her, then jumps on an Army bus and heads to war. Before he leaves, he shows her that he's wearing his "lucky" Roman coin, which will protect him from harm.

She writes him dull letters every day: Every one of them starts out "Dear Art" --- never "Darling", or "My darling Art", or even "Dearest". I suspect these letters contained the same amount of passion a woman might put in a letter to her brother. Anyway, he never writes back, and her mother hisses things like, "MEN! They're all alike!"

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

Jane eventually gets a letter from Johnson's C.O., telling her that her lover has been killed in action.

Jane is inconsolable, and starts hanging out at St. Patrick's Cathedral, lighting candles at the altar of St. Andrew, for whom she feels sorry because nobody ever lights candles for him. She also develops a cough, but still won't stay home from work, or stop annoying St. Andrew.

Finally, she goes to the cathedral in the rain and stands at the altar bawling, "Why did you take Art from me?" and then leaves. Well, lo and behold, she has a vision of Art coming across the street to bore her with more of his homespun wisdom about how love never dies, she's the bee's knees, etc., and they embrace. Then he melts into thin air and she collapses on the pavement. A kind-hearted priest, played by handsome Paul Picerni, comes out and calls an ambulance, then notices that she has something clasped in her hand.

The item in her hand is……………….ARE YOU READY FOR THIS??? YOU WON'T BELIEVE IT! ---- the LUCKY COIN that Art took into battle! Oh, and Jane's father, who as I noted above, deserted her and Jane's mother years before, comes back home that same night! Now that I've panned this movie up and down, I will say, in the vain hope that some kind reader will rate this review as "useful", that the cast was good: Van Johnson was always one of my favorites, and Eileen Heckart, as Ms. Wyman's office friend, was a sympathetic and likable character. Fred Clark, another great character actor, was on hand to play the role of Wyman's philandering boss. And the shots of various NYC locales were great, especially the interior of St. Patrick's Cathedral. Other than that, well, this is strictly for die-hard Jane Wyman fans -- both of them.

The basic plot: A group of people reputed to be sensitive to the world of the supernatural are invited to stay at a haunted mansion for a study being conducted by a Dr. Markway.

I watched The Haunting for the first time today, after reading Maltin's review of it in which he warns the viewer: "Don't see this one alone!" WHY NOT? I simply can't understand why ANYbody would find this movie scary, unnerving or chilling. It has an excellent cast, gorgeous sets, beautiful cinematography and interesting camera shots, but....it ain't scary! As another comment said, 'You keep waiting for something to happen....but nothing does'. Basically, we're treated to the spectacle of a bunch of dissimilar people holed up in a "haunted" house together, bickering among themselves and listening in terror to loud noises, the sources of which are never determined. Julie Harris is a pitiable but annoying neurotic who feels responsible for her ailing mother's death. The beauteous but enigmatic Claire Bloom slinks around the house making cryptic comments to and about the Julie Harris character. Then there's Russ Tamblyn, the owner of the place, who whiles away the hours in the haunted mansion by swigging liquor straight out of the bottle and making wisecracks about the possible financial advantages of owning a haunted house. I am definitely not a fan of slasher movies or gore-fests, but I do love atmospheric horror movies that keep you on the edge of your seat. Two that come to mind are "Salem's Lot" (the 1979 TV version, not the poorly-edited theatrical release) and "Rosemary's Baby". Also "The Omen", although it does have too much blood to suit me. "The Haunting" has little or no suspense. **Spoiler ahead** And when Lois Maxwell turned up at the end of the movie looking like she'd been through the mill, I burst out laughing. She explains that her earlier sudden and ghastly appearance at the door of the attic was because she was "lost" in the house, but poor demented Julie Harris didn't give her a chance to explain. So what's she doing wandering around outside in the middle of the night? All she had to do was go back up to the house, ring the doorbell and say, Hey, I got lost.

The trouble with "The Haunting" is that it's too well-made to qualify as a laugh-fest, and too bland to be scary.

I'll admit that I've never sat down and watched this movie from start to finish, but several things stand out. On the positive side: (1) The great production values -- color, costumes, camera shots, etc. (2) The numerous "watchable" stars -- John Wayne, Richard Widmark, Laurence Harvey and others.

On the negative side: (1) Who in the world decided to cast Laurence Harvey as William Travis? That obvious British accent was totally out of place! Good grief, didn't they have a dialogue coach for the actors? (2) That ridiculous birthday scene! Here they are, holed up at the Alamo, yet they find the time and resources to bake a cake, complete with chocolate frosting and birthday candles, and to sing "Happy Birthday", a song which wasn't written until the 1920's or later! How did that one slip by?

An entertaining movie, but don't base any historical conclusions on it.

I hate to say it, but I just don't understand all the hype about this movie. It has a good cast and great production values, including gorgeous color, but to me, it was just a "pleasant" movie -- not all that funny, and with only a couple of memorable dance numbers: The "Singin' In the Rain" number by Gene Kelly, and the terrific segment with the fantastically talented and sensuous Cyd Charisse. Why she didn't become a bigger star than she was, I'll never understand. Nothing against the also-talented and versatile Debbie Reynolds, but I would like to have seen less of Debbie and a lot more of Cyd. Maybe this is just a movie that hasn't worn well over the years, but to me, it's greatly overrated. All that being said, it's good family-type entertainment, and they couldn't make a musical like this today. Multi-talented performers like these are gone forever.

This is one of my favorite movies. In addition to the two great-looking stars, Robert Mitchum & Jean Simmons, the supporting cast is terrific: Herbert Marshall, Barbara O'Neil, Leon Ames, Kenneth Tobey, et al. The haunting music score and the beautiful black & white photography create a moody, brooding atmosphere.

Mitchum's character, Frank Jessup, drifts into a relationship with the scheming Diane Tremayne (Jean Simmons), even though he has a more or less "regular" girlfriend, Mary, whom he takes for granted, played by Mona Freeman. Frank is a man who has apparently followed the path of least resistance for most of his life, and this time that easy path leads to big trouble, and ultimately, murder.

One thing I found interesting about this movie was the strongly implied sexual nature of the relationship between Frank and Mary. When Frank is responding to Diane's probing questions about Mary, he says that she "weighs 105 pounds, stripped...". Then when Frank drops in unexpectedly on Mary while she's dressing to go to work, she answers the door in her robe, but then takes it off and stands at the door of the bedroom talking to Frank, wearing only a slip. This was rather daring for 1952, because Mary was portrayed not as a tragic heroine overcome by passion and desire, or as a hard-bitten tramp with a sordid past, but as a "nice girl", a decent young woman who cared about Frank and wanted to marry him. I'm surprised that this scene got past the censors.

This is a very watchable movie, well worth adding to your film library.

I caught this on TCM this morning, and I must agree with many of the previous comments about the colorless actors and the lackluster script. I watched the movie with a friend, and part of the enjoyment of watching it was finding unintentional humor in the film. However, as also mentioned in many other comments, the shots of Manhattan, the Bowery, the Bronx and other areas of New York were fabulous, both interiors and exteriors, and wow, what a gorgeous black & white print! And we did find the detective work in it to be of interest --identifying the grass in the dead woman's car, tracking down the tattoo artist who in turn was able to identify the work of another artist, etc. I don't agree with other reviewers who deem the film "worthless"; the outstanding cinematography alone makes it worth one viewing, and it was fun to see Patricia Barry (White) cast as a botanist, and a young Jack Lord in a non-speaking role in one of the group scenes. I think that with just a little more display of emotion from the actors, and/or a better script, this could've been a really good movie.

So much has been said about this excellent movie that there is little I can add, except one trivial thing: It was very interesting to me that in the dinner scenes, the servants had to stand at attention, so to speak, while Dorian and his friends ate and conversed. I believe that at one point, a couple of the diners even made some flippant remarks about "the problem of the lower classes". How humiliating to be one of those servers, having to listen to such comments and stand there expressionless, like a piece of furniture. It must have been hell to be a member of the "lower classes" in nineteenth century England.

On another note, I must agree with previous reviewers who opined that the final hideous portrait of Dorian is "over the top". It's easy to be a Monday morning quarterback, but I do think the portrait should have been done with much more restraint than it was -- it had a definite comic-book look to it, as one reviewer observed.

All that being said, I think this is a superlative movie, and have watched it over and over again. A classic in every way.

It's been years since I sat down and watched this movie from start to finish, but whenever it shows on TV, I try to catch the scene where the mummy is first discovered by the archaeologists. One of the archaeologists, an over-eager young man, stays behind in the tomb while his older colleagues leave for a few minutes, and this, for my money, is one of the scariest scenes ever put on film! The young archaeologist unrolls an ancient manuscript which, unbeknownst to him, contains the words which will bring the mummy to life. He reads the words aloud, staring intently at them by candlelight. His voice is a low hum in the eerie tomb, and behind him, we see the mummy slowly, slowly open his eyes. We see his hand break free of its wrappings and fall to his side. The archaeologist continues reading, and then we see the mummy's hand appear on the stone next to him. The young man sees it and screams, then begins laughing hysterically, horribly. His colleagues rush into the cave and find that the mummy has gone, and their young friend has gone completely mad.

A truly scary and memorable scene.

One reviewer on IMDb described this film as "blah", and I think that sums it up very well. This is a movie that could've been really good, even great, but was hampered by a lame script and, in my opinion, poor direction and heavy-handed acting. Victor Mature and Lizabeth Scott are not two of my favorites, anyway, but I do think they were well-cast as the aging football player, Pete Wilson, and his selfish, social-climbing wife, Liza. Even reliable veteran actors Lloyd Nolan and Paul Stewart couldn't do much with their roles. Everybody seemed to be overacting, maybe to compensate for the lackluster script. It's really a shame, because it was an unusual and interesting storyline and should have had more depth than it did. I also thought the Lucille Ball character was corny and clichéd: the "nice girl", albeit cynical and disillusioned, who loves Pete from afar -- sort of a poor man's Eve Arden.

There was one scene that was a little gem, though, in my book. "Pete" has just come out of the dressing room after a game and is sitting in his car with "Liza". One of his teammates has just been cut from the team, and is very depressed. He stops to say goodbye to Pete, who's very sympathetic and tries to cheer the guy up. Liza sits in the car putting on lipstick, pointedly ignoring the downcast man. Then when he gets ready to leave, he tells her it was nice meeting her, or some such thing, and she replies in a flippant, dismissive tone, "Goodbye", and looks away, as if to say, You don't matter, and I have no time for you. Then she tells Pete that the guy "isn't a real man" because he can't play ball anymore. This, of course, is a blow to Pete, who is hiding the fact that his own career is coming to an end because of a heart problem that he hasn't even told her about. It's a nice snapshot of Liza's character.

All in all, watching Easy Living is like being served vanilla sherbet for dessert when what you really wanted was Rocky Road ice cream.

One thing I really liked about Body Heat was the way Kasdan, the director, complimented the audience's intelligence by focusing on the plot and not exploiting Kathleen Turner's sexuality to excess. A lesser director would have packed this film with one nude scene after another, and included endless sex scenes with Ms. Turner outfitted in garter belts, diaphanous nightgowns, and anything else to insure that the audience understood Ned's sexual obsession with Maddy. As it was, she wore a floor-length terrycloth bathrobe, and her street clothes were discreet, even modest -- no skin-tight blouses cut down to her navel, or pants that looked like she was poured into them.

I liked the friendships Ned had with the prosecutor, played by Ted Danson, and the police detective, played by J.A. Preston. They seemed like real people who knew and liked each other, and their conversation in the diner was realistic and amusing. Richard Crenna, one of my favorites, also did a great job with his portrayal of the venal, self-satisfied Edmund Walker who thinks he has Maddy in his hip pocket. I like the scene where Maddy bumps into Ned unexpectedly in the restaurant and quickly introduces him to Edmund as "Mr. Racine", then says, "I'm sorry, I don't know your first name". Great improvisation on Maddy's part.

All in all, a terrific movie that stands the test of time very well.

I was thrilled to learn from one of the previous comments that this "horror" movie is available on DVD! I don't remember much about it, but do recall the cheesy special effects and the vain attempts to make a cute German Shepherd puppy look spine-chillingly evil. The scene I remember best and still laugh about is when the family's maid, (who's a Latino and is therefore in touch with unseen forces), sees the adorable little puppy, complete with disproportionately huge paws, and IMMEDIATELY recognizes him as evil! The special effects crew achieved this effect by shining a flashlight in his eyes, causing them to glow malevolently, or so the audience was supposed to think. She begins backing away from the puppy in terror, crossing herself and crying out, "Ohhh, Madre de Dios!" Her prayers are to no avail, as she soon meets a horrible fate at the hands (or paws) of Devil Dog. The end, where we see Devil Dog's "true" form is an absolute riot! They took some dog and stuck a wig and a horn on his head, as I recall, and then projected the whole ridiculous spectacle on a giant screen, designed to make the viewing audience reel in horror.

One of the things that makes this movie so enjoyable is the cast. I love those familiar faces from the seventies and eighties, whose ranks, alas, are thinning: Richard Crenna, Yvette Mimieux, R.G. Armstrong, et al. And the production values from that era were far superior to what's on TV today - much better color, for one thing, and the scripts, even in a cheesefest like this, were more like real conversation and not loaded with "edgy, hip", mean-spirited remarks like the garbage on TV today.

We need more fine films like Devil Dog: Hound of Hell!

This is a great little movie, full of interesting characters and situations. While not in the same class as some of the better-known movies of its time, it is still extremely watchable and memorable. The scene where Zachary Scott, sitting on a bus, casually steals the airman pin from the lapel of a coat thrown over the seat next to him, is terrific. It defines his character beautifully -- a guy who's so low, he'll purloin something of inestimable value to a war veteran, to use as a prop in his various charades. He lies easily as the situation calls for, and captivates the women in the Fenchurch household with his irresistible charm and that killer smile.

I couldn't help wondering if this movie was made to capitalize on the success of Mildred Pierce. Scott and Bruce Bennett were teamed again, and Faye Emerson bears some resemblance to Joan Crawford, with her facial bone structure and large eyes. Also, the Mona Freeman character is not unlike the odious Veda in Mildred Pierce.

I agree with a previous comment that the ending to the movie was too pat, with the convenient tumble over a cliff for "Ronnie Mason", Zachary Scott's character. Also, in one of the final scenes, we see bratty Mona Freeman reunited with the boyfriend she had previously scorned in favor of the older, smoother Zachary Scott. I think the script should've called for her to be chastened for her behavior and for her cruelty toward her sister, instead of treating it as just a typical adolescent episode. But these are minor flaws in an otherwise enjoyable and well-made movie.

This is a sordid, harrowing, disgusting piece of trash, with nothing to recommend it, Kathy Bates's performance notwithstanding. I have to wonder at the mentality of people who can watch humiliation and torture, and consider it "entertainment". The "hobbling" scene is horrifying and completely uncalled for. There are many, many better movies with similar themes out there than this piece of garbage, with its gratuitous violence and unrelenting ugliness. A complete waste of time, and a total waste of the talented Kathy Bates. I haven't read the book, but if it's anything like this movie, I think it richly merits a literary critic's remark that Stephen King publishes everything but his laundry list and calls it literature.

This is a well-acted and absorbing drama, with appealing and talented actors. The piano soundtrack by Laurence Rosenthal was absolutely beautiful -- poignant and evocative. Robert Urich was very good as the weak and self-absorbed husband, and everybody in the movie was watchable, really. To me, the most tragic thing about the aftermath of Maria Marshall's murder was that her sons couldn't even look back on happy memories for comfort. In one scene, the boys are watching some old home movies of their parents and themselves when they were just toddlers. Their mother is laughing and playing with them in the swimming pool, while the father is roughhousing with them and laughing into the camera. But these sweet scenes are fractured by the knowledge that the mother they loved so much was murdered by their father, and they can no longer watch them with a normal feeling of nostalgia, or look back in sentimental memory at their family life.

This film is nothing but a beautiful Technicolor soap opera, but wow, what great-looking stars -- the gorgeous Kim Novak, with a figure that would knock your eyes out, and virile, well-built, flat-bellied Kirk Douglas! The acting, at least by Kim Novak, leaves a lot to be desired -- she always seems to be in some kind of a mental fog, and delivers her lines lifelessly, without feeling.

But this movie is not to be missed, if for no other reason than the unintentionally funny scenes between Kim Novak ("Maggie") and her cold fish of a husband, "Ken". In one scene, Maggie is going out for a clandestine meeting with Kirk Douglas ("Larry"), poured into a tight, revealing red dress that practically screams, "I'M HAVING AN AFFAIR!". Her prissy husband is sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper, oblivious. Maggie tells Ken she's going out with a girlfriend or something like that (yeah, sure), and when Ken fails to notice the obvious, she says to him in that smoky voice, "Suppose I'm going to meet a man. It happens", to which Ken replies, glancing up briefly and rattling his newspaper, "Not to someone like you". That hilarious bit of dialogue alone makes this movie worthwhile!

Cliff Groves (Fred MacMurray), a toy manufacturer, has been married for about twenty years to Marian (Joan Bennett), who now takes him for granted and gives most of her attention to their demanding children, leaving Cliff feeling unloved and unappreciated and ripe for an affair with old flame Norma Vale (Barbara Stanwyck), a successful fashion designer.

I really enjoyed this movie, despite its somewhat heavy-handed depiction of Fred MacMurray's unhappy home life, and the casting of the awful Joan Bennett. Joan Bennett seemed near-comatose in every film I ever saw her in, with no more facial or vocal expression than a turtle. How did she ever get even one acting job? Barbara Stanwyck looked great, and Fred MacMurray was as attractive as ever. Ever notice what a good build he had? He was very athletic in his youth, and stayed in good shape. Joan Bennett, however, was the dullest actress in movie history. I don't approve of adultery, but I felt so sorry for Cliff, having that boring, dim-witted lump for a wife, and those thankless brats for children, that I wouldn't have blamed him if he had ditched them all for the glamorous yet down-to-earth Norma Vale. Marian lives only for her children, and when Cliff tries to talk to her about his loneliness and hurt at always taking second place to the kids, she makes light of his feelings with some condescending and witless comments that made me want to choke her.

The scene where Cliff tries to get Norma to run away with him is well-written and believable. Norma, distraught, tells him they have to face reality, that he'll still want to see Marian (although why he would ever want to see Marian again escapes me), and that if he marries Norma, he would shame his family, be alienated from his children, etc., etc. The ending of this movie is very unsatisfying. Norma goes back to New York to her life and career, and we see her sitting alone on the plane, heartbroken & crying. Cliff gazes up from his living room window at Norma's plane flying overhead, then turns and walks away, at which point Marian materializes beside him and takes his arm, saying something like, "You haven't been yourself lately", to which Cliff replies, "I'm all right now". Then he tells Marian fondly, "You know me better than I know myself". WHAT??? Marian has been ignoring the poor man for years and is patronizing and totally insensitive to his feelings, but now we're supposed to believe that good ol' Cliff has come to his senses and all is well. I taped this movie off of AMC about ten years ago, and I remember the host of the show saying that originally, the movie did not include this preposterous, tacked-on ending. The emotional scene where Norma forces Cliff to face reality about the hopelessness of their situation was originally supposed to be the final scene, if I remember correctly. Norma flees, and Cliff is left standing alone and dejected in his office workshop, while in the foreground we see "Rex the Walkie-Talkie Robot Man" walking to the end of the table and falling off the end. Rex was the obvious symbol for Cliff. This ending was deemed too depressing, or something, so the writers were forced to add the ridiculous and false scene with Marian.

Watch this movie when you get a chance, but try to picture somebody else in the Joan Bennett role.

I'm with the "slick, beautifully-done melodrama" camp on this one. I agree with other posters that the direction was not the best: Jeanne Crain was so sickly sweet, as she was in many of her movies, that I felt like I needed an insulin shot every time she came on screen. In addition, much of the acting was stylized, as in the scene where Jeanne Crain & Cornel Wilde are returning to the house after a shopping trip, and their purchases fall out of the box and start blowing around in the wind; also when Jeanne Crain is posing in the nursery, wearing a clown hat, while Richard paints the image in a mural on the wall. And the final scene -- where Richard arrives home after being in prison and embraces Ruth -- approaches parody, with the posture of Jeanne Crain, the sunset in the background and the swelling music. Corny is the word that comes to mind! Vincent Price, one of my favorite actors, was really over the top in the courtroom scenes. And it was a little hard to believe that he wouldn't have been forced to recuse himself from the case, given the fact that Ellen was his ex-fiancée and that one of the key defense witnesses was Wilde, who stole Ellen away from him! All that being said, this movie is a big favorite of mine! I like the scene where poor Danny is going down for the third time, and Ellen, hearing Richard approaching, jerks off her sunglasses to reveal cold, narrowed eyes in a face devoid of humanity, before she dives into the lake in a phony "rescue" attempt. Chilling. And Mary Philips, as Mrs. Berent, gives a good performance, I think. She sees what Ellen is, to a certain extent, but can't change her, or the family dynamic; she has a "beaten-down" quality, and her sadness and resignation are apparent.

I highly recommend this movie as a guilty pleasure.

This is one of my favorite movies, despite what I must reluctantly admit is a preposterous plot. But what a great cast -- Gregory Peck, the beautiful Ingrid Bergman, and various familiar character actors. Wallace Ford has an entertaining scene as an obnoxious hotel guest trying to pick up Ingrid Bergman, but who gets chased off twice by the house detective. Even though the plot elements are often unbelievable, it doesn't matter, as far as I'm concerned; the pacing is just right, the script is literate, and the dramatic tension sustains the viewer's interest to the end.

And for my money, this movie contains one of the most, if not THE most, romantic scenes ever put on film: Gregory Peck and Ingrid Bergman, having met only a day or two before, admit to each other that they've fallen in love. He walks slowly toward her and she lifts her face to him and closes her eyes. The scene dissolves to a series of lovely doors opening slowly down a hall, to the accompaniment of Miklos Rosza's incomparably beautiful "Spellbound Theme". Now THAT'S romantic! I highly recommend "Spellbound" to any classic movie fan.

I love this movie, and own a copy of it. It's what I would call a melodrama, but has great characters, good pacing and a tightly-written script. In addition, George Duning's music score is beautiful and haunting. Joan Crawford dominates the movie, and her performance is over the top at times, but I think the other actors hold their own very well -- Ms. Crawford does not overpower them. The other characters -- Wendell Corey as the naive and deluded husband, Lucile Watson as the boss's shrewd but likable wife, and Viola Roach (I think) as the Craigs' housekeeper are all well-fleshed-out characters, and the performances are excellent. I don't think there's an actor in the whole movie who isn't memorable.

The lengths to which Harriet goes to insure the perfection of her home are comical, at times. She scolds Mrs. Harold (sp?), the housekeeper, for not remembering to close the drapes after 11:00 every morning. When she and Clare, her cousin, are out of town visiting Harriet's mother, Harriet has Clare calling everybody under the sun in her neighborhood to find out why there's nobody home. Clare tells Harriet that when she got no answer at the Craig number, she even had the operator check the number to be sure the phone wasn't out of order! There are many memorable scenes in this film, but some that I thought were particularly good were the scenes where Harriet visits her mentally ill mother in a sanitarium. Harriet simply cannot penetrate the state of oblivion that her mother dwells in to block out the world, and she's at a loss to know what to do, or how to communicate with her mother. Ms. Crawford does a good job of conveying her sadness and frustration. It is a poignant scene, serving to humanize Harriet and point up the fact that she does have genuine feelings for someone. Afterward, she confides her worries to the doctor, played by Katherine Warren, and the conversation between the two women is very revealing. I also enjoyed the scene where she and Mrs. Harold lock horns about the running of the house – Mrs. Harold isn't intimidated by Harriet, and gives as good as she gets.

This is a great vehicle for Joan Crawford, Wendell Corey, and in fact, everybody in the movie. Give it a look!