Lucille Ball's name raises obvious preconceptions, but - apart from displaying her unquestioned skill with a one-line put-down - she plays it admirably straight in this nice film noir. In spite of Lucy's top billing, she's by no means the lead. That honour goes to Mark Stevens, who is little-heard of today but who is good value as the private dick with a past.
Clifton Webb and William Bendix are on hand to contribute their expertise. The art direction and lighting are a treat. Director Henry Hathaway was in his heyday, keeping a tight grip on pace, and displaying a surprising interest in sound editing - listen to the way the instruments of a jazz band advance and retreat on the soundtrack as the camera passes them in and out of shot.
The last reel hurries the plot a little, as if a producer was keeping a beady eye on the running time. But that apart, there's not much to fault. Strange it's not better known.
Clifton Webb and William Bendix are on hand to contribute their expertise. The art direction and lighting are a treat. Director Henry Hathaway was in his heyday, keeping a tight grip on pace, and displaying a surprising interest in sound editing - listen to the way the instruments of a jazz band advance and retreat on the soundtrack as the camera passes them in and out of shot.
The last reel hurries the plot a little, as if a producer was keeping a beady eye on the running time. But that apart, there's not much to fault. Strange it's not better known.