retrocollage

Unfortunately, Joan Crawford throughout the 1950s often found herself typecast in dead-end genre films that followed one story line: thick- skinned, frigidly cynical middle-aged woman meets opportunist crumbs, revealing herself to have a heart exactly as hard as melted butter. While it's true that playing the stormy and lovesick heavy guaranteed Crawford continued work and starring roles well after the usual actress expiration date of that era, it also meant that her performances in such dramas degenerated into caricatures of the roles she had played in the previous decade.

The present story is no exception. A wealthy widow takes possession of her beach house, and promptly encounters several obstreperous neighbors who may be swindlers, an overgrown beach-boy gigolo, a negligent and ignorant woman real estate agent, a cunning, understated "beach-cop," and the mysterious death of the beach house's previous tenant. After several prickly encounters with this motley crew, widow Crawford's icy, sarcastic reserve thaws in record time, and she surrenders to the charms of said gigolo. Happiness seems to be just around the corner--but is it real? Will the solution of the mystery ruin our heroine's chance at a new life? Cue orchestral diminished chord...

FEMALE ON THE BEACH is not Joan Crawford's finest hour, sad to say. While it's far from her worst picture (alas, they became worse still), it's best enjoyed as a kitschy, campy romp. Make plenty of popcorn--covered with lots of melted butter--and come prepared to laugh.