Not the subtlest or most penetrating examination of gambling addiction and its effects, but a juicy melodrama and a splendid feast to throw at Barbara Stanwyck, who plays it magnificently. She's.a Chicago housewife transported by journalist hubby Robert Preston to then-just-exploding Las Vegas, where some early luck at the tables proves her undoing. She also gets in bad with casino manager Stephen McNally, who, surprisingly, is hotter and more appealing than Preston here-his scenes with Stanny have real heat. The black-and-white footage of early Vegas is seductive, the lowlife gambling halls habited by Stanwyck convincing, and the dime-store psychology explaining her downfall-a silly subplot involving her and her troublesome older sister, Edith Barrett-not too intrusive. Michael Gordon, who'd just directed a couple of other heavy melodramas for Universal and was probably its top contract director at the time (he later did a 180 and handled things like "Pillow Talk"), doesn't stint on the seaminess and menace of the gambling underworld, and Tony Curtis has a noticeable bit as a bellboy. It doesn't wear out its welcome, and whatever's lacking in the script about the psychology of the helpless gambler, Ms. Stanwyck provides with a rich, layered performance.