First, David Korvo (played exquisitely by Joes Ferrer) is one of the most demented, manipulative, scandalously amoral cads to ever grace the screen. The movie is worth watching for him alone. Second, Gene Tierney (playing Anne Sutton) is so painfully lovely and vulnerable, the movie is worth watching for her alone. Do the math.
Anne Sutton is the bored wife of a fabulously successful and rock-jawed psychoanalyst (luckily for her, his knowledge proves useful). She is one of those tragic kelptomaniacs with daddy issues (the field of psychology has advanced greatly in 60 years) who falls under the sway of Svengali-esque David Korvo, a truly despicable astrologist, mentalist and woman-beating, trust-fund draining con man. Ferrer has such a subtle, contained performance, conveying his evil intent with a half-hearted gesture or a dropped consonant or a lazy look of his eye — how can you not pull for him? Of course, he uses his considerable bag of tricks to draw poor Anne into his web of deceits and ultimately frames her for a murder (don't worry, it's 1949, there's no blood).
Will her controlling and distant husband believe her? Will she let him believe her? And what of Korvo, apparently confined to bed after a surgery, could he actually be innocent? And can someone actually hypnotize themselves? Only grizzled police detective Colton, recently widowed and still grieving, can get to the bottom of it. This is a moody thriller with deep emotional undercurrents that pairs well with a rainy Sunday afternoon and a martini, especially if it's served in one of those old fashioned glasses that look more like champagne saucers.
-- www.cowboyandvampire.com --
Anne Sutton is the bored wife of a fabulously successful and rock-jawed psychoanalyst (luckily for her, his knowledge proves useful). She is one of those tragic kelptomaniacs with daddy issues (the field of psychology has advanced greatly in 60 years) who falls under the sway of Svengali-esque David Korvo, a truly despicable astrologist, mentalist and woman-beating, trust-fund draining con man. Ferrer has such a subtle, contained performance, conveying his evil intent with a half-hearted gesture or a dropped consonant or a lazy look of his eye — how can you not pull for him? Of course, he uses his considerable bag of tricks to draw poor Anne into his web of deceits and ultimately frames her for a murder (don't worry, it's 1949, there's no blood).
Will her controlling and distant husband believe her? Will she let him believe her? And what of Korvo, apparently confined to bed after a surgery, could he actually be innocent? And can someone actually hypnotize themselves? Only grizzled police detective Colton, recently widowed and still grieving, can get to the bottom of it. This is a moody thriller with deep emotional undercurrents that pairs well with a rainy Sunday afternoon and a martini, especially if it's served in one of those old fashioned glasses that look more like champagne saucers.
-- www.cowboyandvampire.com --