On trial for murdering his girlfriend, philandering stockbroker Larry Ballentine takes the stand to claim his innocence and describe the actual, but improbable sounding, sequence of events that led to her death.
A piano teacher believes that her fiancé was killed on the battlefield. When he miraculously returns, they decide to marry, but are threatened by a wealthy, egotistical composer the piano teacher started dating on the rebound after she became convinced her love had died.
Barry Sulivan is a cynical gangster who controls the Neptune Beach waterfront. He runs a numbers racket with the local soda shop owner: the police are in his pocket and the local hoods are on his payroll.
A girl has been murdered. A woman cannot remember a man who claims to be her husband. Her uncle hosts a radio murder mystery show called "The Unsuspected". Who killed the girl? Why? And who is this mystery husband?Written by
Character arrives at party and door is opened by manservant door closes and window reflection shows cameraman and likely Director Michael Curtiz. See more »
[to an arguing Althea and Oliver]
I think you better excuse me. I detest scenes not of my own making. You know, the more I see of marriage, the more thankful I am to be the last of a long line of bachelors.
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Opening title and credits are typed in a bound manuscript, and we see someone's gloved hands flipping the pages. See more »
This is certainly one of the most lushly photographed of all noirs. Hardly a set-up goes by without an eye-catching furbelow of one kind or another, thanks to cameraman Woody Bredell and Art Director Anton Grot. That's one main reason to catch up with this otherwise turgid 1947 release. Then too, except for the unfortunate Ted North, it's a stellar cast from the sleekly malevolent Rains to the coldly conniving Totter to the wittily sophisticated Bennett. However, I suspect that's one reason this richly endowed exercise failed to achieve classic status— just too many stars with too many lines that multiply subplots in a rather poorly thought-out storyline. There's simply not enough coherence and focus to generate the desired suspense of, say, a Rebecca (1940) or a Suspicion (1941), both of which the screenplay resembles. This results in a movie of bits and pieces, and a good chance to catch up with post-war high fashion. And catch that salvage yard from hell that turns up at the end, along with the behind-the-scenes glimpse of radio drama or what was then aptly called "the theater of the mind". Anyway, no movie with the commanding Claude Rains can afford to be passed up, here at his cultured and calculating best.
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