The sexy girl on the poster promises a movie full of torrid passion, but this is flaccid through and through. Though there are two black-white romances, we never see the couples do more than chat. They don't even kiss. There are not enough sparks struck to make a union between two people of the same race plausible, let alone one in which the people really have to be committed to each other to surmount the difficulties they will face. They are so sensible about it all, they seem mildly depressed.
Scenes peter out in a vague and limp kind of way, and there is no suspense. This has got to be the only movie in which the heroine is frightened, picks up the telephone to call for help, finds that the line has been cut...and nothing happens. Belafonte is used just for decoration--though we are constantly told he is dangerous, we never see him doing anything remotely radical, and he is even a guest at the British governor's cocktail party.
In sum, this movie is, as the British say, all talk, no trousers. (Trousers is a euphemism. In this movie, no one gets their actual trousers off.)
Scenes peter out in a vague and limp kind of way, and there is no suspense. This has got to be the only movie in which the heroine is frightened, picks up the telephone to call for help, finds that the line has been cut...and nothing happens. Belafonte is used just for decoration--though we are constantly told he is dangerous, we never see him doing anything remotely radical, and he is even a guest at the British governor's cocktail party.
In sum, this movie is, as the British say, all talk, no trousers. (Trousers is a euphemism. In this movie, no one gets their actual trousers off.)