Amor, Prelúdio de Morte

I read Ira Levin's book when I was young, sometime in the 1960s, and loved it. It's very chilling, and I think as good as Rosemary's Baby. Better than the Stepford Wives and Boys from Brazil.

This film is a quite bizarre mixture of the chilling and the comical. Someone above has mentioned the scene where Bud and Dorie are having an intense conversation when suddenly a middle-aged woman in a completely see-through blouse with a great big bra underneath walks between them and halts the conversation; she has nothing whatsoever to do with the plot, and when it happened I literally burst out laughing at the incongruousness of it. I also laughed at Jeffrey Hunter's ridiculous attempts to manipulate heavy Clark Kent spectacles and an unlit pipe in a vain attempt to appear mature.

The good points about the film are the plot, which is gripping even though it's been shortened markedly from the book, and some of the acting, particularly Robert Wagner and Joanne Woodward -- and I also enjoyed George Macready as the father of Dorie and Ellen.

The fact is that I was consistently interested or amused or gripped by something or other for the whole of the film. You can't really ask for much more from a film.