This movie catapulted Yvonne De Carlo into stardom. During the Austrian-Prussian War, Anna Maria (De Carlo) is a famous ballerina who has no other choice but to leave Europe after she is accused of being a spy. Jim Steed, (Rod Cameron), an American war correspondent, helps her escape to the United States, accompanied by her composer, Professor Max Blumenthal (J. Edward Bromberg). They eventually reach a small town in Arizona, where they meet an old entertainer, Madam Europe (Marjorie Rambeau), who joins them in a local performance of "Salome," starring Anna Maria. She makes such an impact on the town that they re-name it "Salome, Where She Danced." Anna also tames and falls in love with the local bandit, Cleve Blunt (David Bruce), who resembles her deceased lover, a Habsburg prince named Kurt. The group (Anna, Jim, Max, Madam Europe, and Cleve) moves on to San Francisco, where Anna attracts the attention of a wealthy Russian colonel (Walter Slezak) who decides to build her a new opera...Written by
Never in my whole life will I forget the town of... the town of...
The town of... Say, wait a minute! Henceforth this town will no longer hide its fame under the prosaic appelation of Drinkman Wells. From now on, this town will be known as "Salome, Where She Danced."
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Yvonne De Carlo's feature career gets off with a resounding clunk
This movie is just plain bad; no story to speak of, hard to follow, no clear direction to the script or continuity. I've seen it, and I'm not sure what happens in it, except a lot of nothing. Yvonne De Carlo had appeared in shorts and small parts before this, and was a good bet to star in a feature owing to her striking beauty and vampish charm. But "Salome Where She Danced" is an embarrassing mediocrity and is certainly not "bad"in the entertaining sense of Ed Wood or others on Hollywood's third-tier. As a Universal Picture, this is actually a thoroughly failed first or second tier production, and all of its slickness and artificiality does not conceal the glaring reality that it has nothing going for it. It is not "colorized;" it's in genuine Technicolor,though even the handling of the color is flat and undynamic -- sand is light brown, and one comes away with the impression that there is an awful lot of sand in the film, and perhaps a tumbleweed or two. De Carlo struggles valiantly with this bottom-drawer material only to achieve the status of being the best thing about a movie that has nothing to offer on its own, and even that distinction is a stretch. She is lucky to have survived this feature, as other potential stars have had their careers sunk by far less than this.
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