La hija del pecado

I've always wondered why Lizabeth Scott never became a big star;part of the reason can be found in the fact that she resembled Lauren Bacall.She plays opposite a bossy Mary Astor and a young Burt Lancaster with whom she would team up again the following year in " I walk alone" .But neither her nor Lancaster have interesting characters in "desert fury".

The real meat lies in the John Hodiak/Wendell Corey relationship.It seems sometimes that Johnny is in love with Eddie and is jealous of the women he woos."He's a bad man,he might have killed his wife " Johnny warns Paula ,but he cannot hide his misogyny and he tells her so:he hates her,and never Eddie will leave HIM for HER.

Sporting a title that is better suited to an exotic Western or an Arabian Nights romp, it is small wonder perhaps that this noir-ish melodrama turns out to be more of a glossy soaper. This combination – and, indeed, the plot itself – seems to indicate an attempt at another MILDRED PIERCE (1945) but the end result is certainly less rewarding. In fact, all-powerful businesswoman/mother Mary Astor gets to experience her student/daughter Lizabeth Scott's hard-headed ungratefulness with the appearance of ex-flame John Hodiak. Local cop Burt Lancaster (third-billed in his third movie) is enamoured with Scott himself and does not take Hodiak's unwarranted attentions sitting down. Unfortunately, for most of the time, the film resolves itself into a series of clashes between these four characters but, thankfully, Paramount's unusual decision to film 'in glorious Technicolor' (to use the famous advertising term) makes the rather dreary proceedings more easy on the eye than they would otherwise have been. This is not to say that the film is without interest: Lancaster is always worth watching, Mary Astor is fine in a character role not too far removed from her trademark role of the scheming Brigid O'Shaugnessy in John Huston's THE MALTESE FALCON (1941) and Miklos Rozsa's musical accompaniment is typically brooding. Besides, to counter the (no pun intended) somewhat colorless central relationship between Scott and Hodiak, we are treated to the highly ambiguous one between Hodiak and his long-suffering sidekick (an impressive turn from a debuting Wendell Corey): not only is Corey relegated to doing the house chores while Hodiak sunbathes topless but, in the admittedly strong climax, we see the reality of their interchangeable personalities two decades before Ingmar Bergman's PERSONA (1966) and Cammell-Roeg's PERFORMANCE (1970)!

Barbara Stanwyck must have been busy, so Hollywood asked Mary Astor to play the hardened "casino" owner trying to protect her daughter from her past mistakes in Desert Fury. Lizbeth Scott is the daughter with bad judgement and a rebellious nature, and she quickly falls for the one man her mother forbids: John Hodiak. John is a gangster and clearly bad news, but Lizbeth insists on ruining herself for him, even when the uniformed, young, handsome Burt Lancaster is in love with her.

The so-called romance between Lizbeth and John is far less interesting than what could be argued as a romance between John and his faithful sidekick, Wendell Corey. Wendell gets an introducing credit in the movie, and he gets an enormously meaty role for his first foray in front of the camera. A villain with many layers, some of which couldn't be discussed because of the Hays Code, he's very protective over his friend and doesn't approve of Lizbeth's moony eyes.

The best part of Desert Fury is Edith Head's costumes. Every single scene, Lizbeth and Mary are dressed in gorgeous dresses that will have you oo-ing and ahh-ing for the entire running length. Lizbeth is very pretty in this film, and dressing her up in such beautiful costumes only makes it more fun to watch her, even when she's exercising bad judgement.

Probably the most distinguished feature of DESERT FURY is the spectacular Technicolor Paramount lavished on it, a story of personal conflicts among Nevada's gambling set. Another distinguished feature is MARY ASTOR as Fritzi, a hard-boiled dame who runs a gambling establishment and keeps a tight leash on her willful daughter (LIZABETH SCOTT). Scott is strikingly photographed and reminded me of a more animated version of Veronica Lake.

But complications arise when two men pay too much attention to Astor's daughter--JOHN HODIAK (a no good hunk who may or may not have murdered his wife) and BURT LANCASTER as a wary police officer who keeps Lizabeth Scott on his radar at all times.

It's fun as melodrama, nothing more or less, and at times achieves something of a camp classic with Astor's butch performance as she effortlessly steals the film's acting honors. Take it or leave it, it's all in good, steamy fun with lots of fury going on under those hot Technicolor lights.

Back in the forties, when movies touched on matters not yet admissible in "polite" society, they resorted to codes which supposedly floated over the heads of most of the audience while alerting those in the know to just what was up. Probably no film of the decade was so freighted with innuendo as the oddly obscure Desert Fury, set in a small gambling oasis called Chuckawalla somewhere in the California desert. Proprietress of the Purple Sage saloon and casino is the astonishing Mary Astor, in slacks and sporting a cigarette holder; into town drives her handful-of-a-daughter, Lizabeth Scott, looking, in Technicolor, like 20-million bucks. But listen to the dialogue between them, which suggests an older Lesbian and her young, restless companion (one can only wonder if A.I. Bezzerides' original script made this relationship explicit). Even more blatant are John Hodiak as a gangster and Wendell Corey as his insanely jealous torpedo. Add Burt Lancaster as the town sheriff, stir, and sit back. Both Lancaster and (surprisingly) Hodiak fall for Scott. It seems, however, that Hodiak not only has a past with Astor, but had a wife who died under suspicious circumstances. The desert sun heats these ingredients up to a hard boil, with face-slappings aplenty and empurpled exchanges. Don't pass up this hothouse melodrama, chock full of creepily exotic blooms, if it comes your way; it's a remarkable movie.