There's a good movie buried somewhere inside the rather aimless screenplay. Unfortunately, the results look more like a frozen-face Peck showcase than an engaging narrative, and one I doubt that he treasured.
Anyway, what's going on with stiff-backed southern sheriff Tawes (Peck). Clearly, he's bored with a dutiful wife, a routine family life, and an unexpectedly quiet professional life. Maybe it's also because of the remote and church-going southern county he officiates over. But then he meets Alma (Weld), daughter of the county's only law-bender, the illegal whiskey-making McCain family. Now he happily sees a way out of boredom.
Pairing an aging, expressionless Peck with the likes of teeny-bopper, sex-kitten Weld does remain a stretch. But then it is the immensely cuddlesome Weld who's wrapping her arms and puckering her lips, so what guy could resist, even a repressed Sheriff Tawes. Now, the nub of a good plot is whether Alma's just using the uptight sheriff despite her apparently sincere behavior. After all, her father's an illegal whiskey distiller in a shack where she lives with her dependent brothers. So, is Alma merely conaiving to use the smitten Tawes to overlook her family's illegal behavior. Unfortunately, the 90-minutes fails to play up this promising kernel, while actress Weld shrewdly gives no indication of hidden motives. But instead of this attention-getter, the screenplay gives us a lot of scenic roaming around the hills, while hot cars bullet roar around the back roads. That helps, but doesn't compensate.
What the flick does have is a good look at the impoverished shacks and countryside of the rural South, about as far from Hollywood Blvd as you can get. There may be a studio set somewhere in the mix, but I sure couldn't spot it - good for director Frankenheimer.
Anyway, except for die-hard fans of Peck, and hormonal-driven fans of Weld like me, there's little reason to catch up with this 1970 Columbia entry, despite the talent involved. Too bad.