Loosely based on Virginia Hill (Bugsy Seigel's moll), Director Vincent Sherman's film gives it a melodramatic gloss adapting it for star Joan Crawford. Enough of the essential underworld nastiness survives to edge it into Noir territory.
Crawford plays Ethel, an unhappy housewife to an oil worker (Richard Egan). Fed up, Ethel moves to the big apple to start her life anew. She ends up as model for a fashion house, earning extra "tips" by wining and dining the firm's clients after hours. Along with the company's accountant Martin (Kent Smith), the pair end up meeting the head honcho for a crime syndicate, the oily George Castleman (David Brian). The pair finagle their way into Castleman's graces through Martin's ease with figures and Ethel's figure* (and her clawing to the top, wiles). On 'assignment' to the West Coast to keep tabs on a renegade operative in Castleman's organization, Nick Prenta (Steve Cochran), Ethel becomes further entangled.
The screenplay and production are very slick. The acting smooth. DAMNED is a well done and smoothly entertaining film. Crawford gives a standout performance as the social climber who seemingly will stop on nothing to get what she wants, no matter who she has to hurt along the way. Cochran is charismatic as the Bugsy Siegel stand-in. The casting of the ultimate milquetoast Kent Smith is a master-stroke, perfectly setting up the character's story arc. David Brian has an icy frightening glare which Cinematographer Ted McCord amplifies, at one point making his eyes glow like something out of VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED!
DAMNED DON'T CRY is a fine example of sunlit Noir (although there are plenty of dark scenes) and an interesting cross-over with gangster crime pictures. Using Frank Sinatra's real Palm Springs pad as Prenta's hang gives it that much extra verisimilitude. Keeping all the other superlatives in mind, this is still Crawford's picture. Her avaricious Ethel is Noir classic. Of course, any similarity to the actresses real life persona is strictly intentional!
* P.S. One aspect of the film that is the elephant in the room is that the viewer has to accept that Crawford's physical beauty is such that it makes every man she meets melt in front of her. She was an attractive woman, particularly in her earlier years, but, by the time of DAMNED she was hitting her mid-40s. Watching men drool as if Gene Tierney, Ava Gardner or Rita Hayworth had strided into the room is a bit much.
