First of all, I highly recommend this film.
It has a good heart. It is (very) well acted. It has an intelligent, unusual, thought-provoking screenplay. And--above all--it depicts a slice of Americana that is almost completely overlooked by mainstream US culture: the world and feelings and relationships of Mexican immigrants in the white/gringo-dominated world of southern California in the 1950s.
I'm simply blown away by the cast in this well-hidden little jewel. Wendell Corey, often a kind of honking mouthpiece of insensitivity, brings a great deal of nuance to this thankless role. Claire Trevor's portrayal is also very subtly done (though there are great parts of her role where her feelings are more-than-obvious). Shelley Winters is fantastic, and I say this as someone who finds most of Ms Winters portrayals and performances near repulsive. She is absolutely brilliant and I don't think I've ever seen this particular character-type (the cynical, emotionally destroyed, sensitive whose only recourse is alcoholism) ever more convincingly portrayed.
And then there's Mr. Rourke...uh...excuse me...Ricardo Montalban. The man who normally smirks and flexes his way through roles--depending upon his (truly remarkably) good looks and his flashing smile. I never knew there was a real actor underneath that bronzed torso. Hats off to Bill Wellman (the director)! What an incredibly understated performance! This film is worth seeing just for Montalban's astoundingly effective work.
And just a word about the ensemble acting: there are many hispanic actors in this film and, sadly, I must say that I've never seen or heard of any of them, but all the other parts are played with great aplomb. (My only minor complaint is that the producers saw fit to hire the late, great Jack Elam to play Ricardo Montalban's cousin. Why, I simply have no idea, as they used hispanic actors for all the other major hispanic roles. Oh well--he does a fine job and is almost a convincing Mexican.) The story itself is simple. I'm not going to relate it here. It seems to take a real noir turn at one point, but stick with it. The ending may be a bit too Hollywood for some, but--hey--it was 1952 and it's not Sweden and it's not Ingmar Bergman, folks.
Check it out--you won't be sorry.
