When billionaire Jean-Marc Clement learns that he is to be satirized in an off-Broadway revue, he passes himself off as an actor playing him in order to get closer to the beautiful star of the show, Amanda Dell.
The title river unites a farmer recently released from prison, his young son, and an ambitious saloon singer. In order to survive, each must be purged of anger, and each must learn to understand and care for the others.
Singers Lorelei Lee and Dorothy Shaw travel to Paris, pursued by a private detective hired by the disapproving father of Lorelei's fiancé to keep an eye on her, as well as a rich, enamored old man and many other doting admirers.
Roslyn divorces Ray in Reno and then meets widower Guido. He likes her but introduces her to cowboy Gay, and those two fall in love. When she learns that Gay, Guido and Perce are going to turn wild horses ("misfits") into dog food, she protests. Written by
Ed Stephan <email@example.com>
According to writer Arthur Miller, Clark Gable had already seen a rough cut of the movie by the last day of filming, and said, "This is the best picture I have made, and it's the only time I've been able to act." See more »
When Gay is seeing Susan off at the train station she is supposed to be traveling east to St. Louis but the train she boards is heading west. See more »
Young man, do you have the time? I got six clocks in the house and none of them work.
Twenty after nine.
After? It's twenty after, dear. Dahlin'. Five minutes.
What about you?
I'm all set, I just tyin' my sling. The lawyer said nine thirty sharp, dahlin'.
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Opening credits are shown on and around puzzle pieces. See more »
Two of the previous comments have it right about Nevada. It is without question the most barren of places in terms of the sustenance of human life, yet it has a rare beauty that transcends the ugliness of its crass cities and radioactive vistas. The fact that it encompasses an entirely landlocked basin in which great rivers roar down to disappear in dry lakebeds speaks to the main point. Pristine alpine meadows form islands in the sky surrounded by millions of acres of desolation.
When I first saw "The Misfits" in 1961, after having read the savage reviews and followed the sensational press coverage of its production, my initial reaction was that most people just missed the point. I still think so, particularly after reading some of the negative comments here that parrot accepted wisdom about filmmaking in general and what is perceived as a misfire by Miller and Huston. But I have news for the naysayers: this film tells it like it is.
So what if it's a stage play set in the desert? So what if the characters devolve and come apart according to some apparently hidden hand of random fate? Those who get the story right are those who see past what seem at first to be surreal clichés existing only as fodder for the cameras and instead grasp the horror and ugliness of what passes as everyday life for the eponymous ensemble. Nothing happens, and yet everything happens.
Gable, Monroe, Clift. Arthur Miller himself. Figures that seem larger than life. This has little to do with horses and everything to do with the tragedy of Everyman.
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