Non tormentarmi più

A relentlessly glum 86-minutes. I don't know who's to blame for Gifford's unrelieved stony face, but it's like she and Hodiak are having a dour-off to see who can be more expressionless. As a romantic couple, they have all the charm and plausibility of robots. Even the usually affable Murphy gets little chance to beguile. Between that and a relentlessly talky script, the movie takes an unfortunate nose-dive into monotony.

The premise is pretty standard crime fare—a neglected wife (Gifford) is drawn from her comfortable shell by a handsome shady character (Hodiak). Since the wife's also a mother, she struggles with the temptation, but is constantly reminded how neglected she is by her lawyer husband (Murphy). Soon a murder connected to Hodiak occurs. Now a potential scandal hangs over the luckless Gifford's and her attempt break with the heartless Hodiak.

Writer-director Oboler was an interesting talent. His background in radio, however, shows up in the talky script. But he was also capable of fascinating flashes of imagination as in the post-apocalyptic Five (1951) and the psychodrama Bewitched (1945). I suspect he was hemmed in here by requirements from the notoriously conservative MGM. Thanks to that airbrushed studio, we can't even be sure there was an actual affair between the wife and the practiced seducer. That way, the wayward wife doesn't have to be punished more than she is, and audiences could go home feeling good.

Too bad RKO didn't produce this. That way, Oboler might have been drawn in a noirish direction, which the material richly deserves. Anyway, only the presence of sassy cynic Eve Arden and canny kid Dean Stockwell lend the film any spark. I especially like that scene with dad Murphy and son Stockwell fixing the broken stool. That showed needed life and imagination. Too bad the rest of the movie doesn't.