This is a tough look at the difference between unions and criminally controlled protection. Portland is a peculiar setting for a film noir. It works well, though: The opening narrative begins like a travelogue and gradually shifts into comments on the city's corruption.
The cast is excellent. It's not always the most beautiful looking group. The ingénue, who is pretty, wears her hair slicked back with what looks like Brylcreme. Virginia Gregg, the notable radio actress playing her mother, looks a little old for the role and tired.
It's a twisted movie, though. Catch this: Frank Gorshin, of all people, plays a hit man who is also a pedophile! That's a new one on me -- though child molestation does figure in that great classic of weirdness, film noir, and beauty "The Naked Kiss" a few years later.
The bit players add a lot. There's a scene, just a throwaway, in which a blonde playing a slot machine yells "Jackpot!" and goes into paroxysms of glee as the camera moves away and dumps her.
And the portly older gal imported to Portland to oversee the b-girl business is fabulous. We meet her as she gets off a plane and totters along in her high heels, fur stole wrapped defiantly around her. Her description of her "girls" is priceless: It prefigures the introduction Melanie Griffith provides herself in "Body Double" decades later.
Make no mistake: This is a serious movie. It was obviously done on the cheap. But it's done with great style.
The cast is excellent. It's not always the most beautiful looking group. The ingénue, who is pretty, wears her hair slicked back with what looks like Brylcreme. Virginia Gregg, the notable radio actress playing her mother, looks a little old for the role and tired.
It's a twisted movie, though. Catch this: Frank Gorshin, of all people, plays a hit man who is also a pedophile! That's a new one on me -- though child molestation does figure in that great classic of weirdness, film noir, and beauty "The Naked Kiss" a few years later.
The bit players add a lot. There's a scene, just a throwaway, in which a blonde playing a slot machine yells "Jackpot!" and goes into paroxysms of glee as the camera moves away and dumps her.
And the portly older gal imported to Portland to oversee the b-girl business is fabulous. We meet her as she gets off a plane and totters along in her high heels, fur stole wrapped defiantly around her. Her description of her "girls" is priceless: It prefigures the introduction Melanie Griffith provides herself in "Body Double" decades later.
Make no mistake: This is a serious movie. It was obviously done on the cheap. But it's done with great style.