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Usually I laugh only while watching comedies but this "thriller" had me in stitches often! Laughing, that is, when I wasn't groaning in disbelief. Ignore the weighty "analysis" by the film noir experts--this movie, despite Robert Mitchum's best efforts to keep a straight face, is laughably bad. Without wasting a moment his character ditches his understanding and classy fiancee (played by director Farrow's wife, Maureen O'Sullivan) for a trashy suicide case. He soon gets hit pretty hard on the head and announces (he's a doctor, so he knows these things!) that he's got a concussion and he's going to be disoriented a lot and eventually end up paralyzed. So we're supposed to believe that he's led down this dark and dreary path by the "femme fatale" 'cause he's had a bad knock on the head--but he's already demonstrated a total lack of common sense and we've lost any identification we might've had as an audience with him. Incomprehensible, really.

The film starts with Mitchum telling stories to young patients, a likable and caring doctor. So why does he fall in love with this mad woman? 'Cause there wouldn't be a movie if he didn't. The film has nice black-and-white photography, good production values...hard to believe this much money was spent on such a lame-brain story.