Reviews

Republic Pictures dragged out the tired amnesia cliche for a low-budget mystery, "A Woman's Devotion," and wasted a good cast in the process. With a title better suited to a Douglas Sirk melodrama, the film involves a young American couple on holiday in Acapulco, Mexico. The husband is an accomplished artist, and, when a young waitress that he had asked to model for him is found murdered, the local police come calling. Filmed on location by Mexican cinematographer Jorge Stahl, Jr., the film is colorful both on the Acapulco streets and waterfront and in the brightly hued hotel interiors. A young and handsome Ralph Meeker plays Trevor Stevenson, the decorated veteran, whose uncle's bequest left him sufficient funds to pursue art. Lovely Janice Rule is Trevor's wife of one year, whose trust in her husband is challenged when his hidden past is revealed. Golden Age actor Paul Henreid not only stars as Captain Monteros, the local Mexican police officer, but also directed the film.

Meeker does his best with a strange role in which he wrestles with headaches caused by loud sounds that result in war-induced amnesia; possibly being groomed for hunk parts, Meeker doffs his shirt whenever possible. Rule also has a strange role as a wife who apparently knows little about her husband's past or medical history; despite professing belief in her husband's story, she is quick to seek an escape from the country. Henreid plays himself and sprinkles his Austrian accent with a few words of Spanish to pass as Mexican in an undemanding role. The film is also of note because two of the women guests at the hotel are evidently a same-sex couple, and their presence passes without comment. Unfortunately, Robert Hill's story and screenplay are undistinguished, cliched, and predictable. The three leads have all done better work both before and after; Meeker on Broadway and Television, Rule in Film, and Henreid both in classic Hollywood movies and as a director, notably for "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" on Television. "A Woman's Devotion" is not a highlight on any of their resumes.

Based on a 1945 story, "Bitter Harvest" by Ramona Stewart that the author later expanded into a full-length novel, Desert Town, the Hal Wallis production "Desert Fury" was reportedly a cleaned-up adaptation for American audiences of the late 1940's. Deliciously trashy pulp fiction, the film always seems to be saying one thing, but obscuring or omitting something else. The melodramatic affairs of Chuckawalla, Nevada, involve Fritzi, a tough-talking casino owner played by Mary Astor, who retains a soft spot for her daughter, Paula. The rebellious Paula is as tough as her mother, but she is portrayed by Lizabeth Scott, who is too mature to be the 19-year-old character. The town's cop, bushy haired Tom, is an ex rodeo cowboy, whose injuries sidelined him; played by Burt Lancaster, Tom has an unrequited love for Paula. Enter Eddie Bendix and Johnny Ryan, a cheap racketeer and his sidekick; although a cloud of suspicion surrounds the death of Eddie's wife, Paula is immediately attracted to the handsome and dangerous con man, and she spurns both Tom's advances and her mother's warnings about Eddie.

However, the film's core relationship is between Eddie and Johnny, played by John Hodiak and Wendell Corey. While the story could be termed a romantic triangle, the complex entanglements are more a romantic pentagon. The dialog leaves little doubt about Eddie and Johnny; theirs is a marriage in which Paula is the interloper, and, given Johnny's flashes of jealousy, the nature of Eddie's wife's death is more than suspicious. Adding further fire, Fritzi and Eddie have history, which creates tension between mother and daughter and explains Fritizi's attempt to bribe Tom into marriage with Paula by offering him a well-stocked ranch. Hampered by the period's censorship, Robert Rossen's screenplay is too superficial to delve into the complexities that drive these five characters, and perhaps the Production Code would not have allowed their motivations to be played out in any case. A year later, Alfred Hitchcock's "Rope" sidestepped a similar same-sex relationship that also involved murder.

The movie has several assets, among them the luscious cinematography by Edward Cronjager and Charles Lang, which captures the colorful Nevada landscapes in rich Technicolor hues. The closeups, especially of Scott and Hodiak, are breathtaking movie-star glamor shots. Unfortunately, the immaculate grooming of the cast works against their credibility as denizens of a small desert community. The film is marred by Scott's miscasting, and by a lack of explicitness about Eddie and Johnny. Fritzi's story also seems to lack honesty; she is too tough, commanding, and wealthy to be nothing but a casino owner in a small desert town. Her unexplained connection to the sheriff and a judge and her past relationship with Eddie imply more than what was disclosed. Perhaps a remake without Production Code censorship would reveal the steamy plot details that seem to have been excised from this adaptation. However, as it stands, the entertaining "Desert Fury" is well acted, stunningly photographed, and provocative, more for what it does not say, than for what it does.

Despite its poverty-row production budgets, Republic Pictures occasionally turned out an excellent product, and "House by the River" was among the studio's better pictures. An unsuccessful writer, Stephen Byrne, lusts after his wife's new maid and, during an attempted rape, he inadvertently strangles her. When his brother arrives moments after the murder, Byrne convinces him to help cover up the crime and throw the body into the river that flows past his home. Directed by Fritz Lang and photographed by Edward Cronjager, the taut thriller is effectively atmospheric; shadowy patterns, billowing tresses, wafting curtains, dark hallways, dim staircases, silhouetted driftwood, and flowing currents create an ambience ripe for intrigue, murder, and madness. Lang throws in the floating corpse of a cow, a black spider crawling across a sheet of paper, and the eerie croaking of frogs.

Louis Hayward plays Byrne slightly over the top, which emphasizes the man's growing deterioration and descent into madness. Hayward's creepy performance contrasts with the bland normality of Lee Bowman as Byrne's handicapped brother and of his neglected wife, Jane Wyatt. Good support is provided by Ann Shoemaker as a nosy neighbor and Jody Gilbert as an assertive housekeeper to Byrne's brother. Based on a 1921 novel by A.P. Herbert, the story is not a whodunnit, but rather a portrait of the killer's personality and a detailed look at his manipulation of the crime to implicate his brother, stimulate sales of his work, and write a novel about his misdeeds. Films from Republic Pictures are rarely considered classics and often fall below the radar of film buffs; however, "House by the River" deserves better as a well directed, beautifully photographed, effectively written, and competently acted movie.

A fair historical drama set during the British Raj in India, "Bengal Brigade" centers on Captain Jeffrey Claybourne, played by Rock Hudson, who disobeys an order during battle, is court-martialed, and resigns his position in the British army. Although the film is English-centric in its treatment of British rule in India, Hudson fails to convince as an English officer, not even offering a hint of an accent or a stereotypical word like "cheerio." While seeking to restore his reputation, Claybourne becomes unintentionally complicit in the insurgency plot of an Indian Rajah, is romantically involved with the British commander's daughter, and falls under the spell of a local Indian beauty. However, Rock is Rock, and he is a stalwart hero. Tall, dark, and handsome as the movie star he was, Rock is a leader among men, preaches brotherhood, and vanquishes his enemies, while winning the girl before the end titles roll.

Filmed in glorious Technicolor by Maury Gertsman on the Universal back lot and locations in Southern California, the movie is brightly hued and often lively during battles and raids. The photography captures the lustrous beauty and red hair of co-star Arlene Dahl as Vivian Morrow, the commander's daughter, and highlights the glistening raven hair of Hudson, who glows in his brilliant red officer's uniform. Based on the 1953 novel Bengal Tiger by Hall Hunter, the screenplay is concise and largely avoids the laughable dialog rampant in films such as this, although Rock's stoic expressions and deadpan delivery could have used some unintentional humor. However, some viewers may be amused by Rock's admission to Dahl; "I can't marry you." "I know what I am." Of course Dahl responds that she does not care. The fadeout exchange between Hudson and Dahl about thanking the gods will provide a titter or two as well.

Hardly a classic, "Bengal Brigade" is passably entertaining, especially for Rock Hudson fans, but viewers expecting any historical insight will be disappointed. Settle for two photogenic stars in an unconvincing romance, a few Caucasian actors in deep suntan makeup, and some Saturday matinee battles and heroics and 90 minutes will slip by painlessly.