Bardlerx Strictly average movie

SpuffyWeb Sadly Over-hyped

SeeQuant Blending excellent reporting and strong storytelling, this is a disturbing film truly stranger than fiction

Fleur Actress is magnificent and exudes a hypnotic screen presence in this affecting drama.

writers_reign Frank Ross distinguished himself in various ways - he was married to one great actress (Jean Arthur) and one acting joke (Joan Caulfield), he produced a couple of Sinatra titles (The House I Live In, Kings Go Forth) and a fairly risible pseudo-religious entry (The Robe). Somehow he got the idea he was equipped to direct a film and given that his second wife Caulfield was sorely in need of a vehicle that may remind viewers she had once been in the same film (Blue Skies) as Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire, coming a bad nowhere despite co-star billing, he must have seen this as a chance to kill two birds with one stone. Alas ... the teaming of two actors of monumental unequal talent (David Niven and James Robertson Justice) was only eclipsed a couple of years later when Fred Astaire wiped the floor with Jack Buchanan in The Bandwagon and the chemistry between Niven and Caulfield could only have been eclipsed by Garbo and Mr. Bean. One best forgotten.

Charlot47 Slight romcom set in around 1950s Carmel, California, where suave bachelor globe-trotting photographer David Niven is assigned to shoot a best-selling feminist author, who turns out to be the virginal, cool and very smartly turned out blonde Joan Caulfield. At his first tired ploy of getting her to remove more and more clothes, she ends the shoot by walking out. Each further advance on his part is met by more rebuffs, following which she allures him into yet more humiliation. Even her dreams show attraction competing with repulsion. Restless, she starts interfering in the romances and marriages of his blue-collar friends as well. It has to end, as we know it will, with her growing up. The little girl who keeps saying no must become a woman and learn to say yes. Good support from, among others, James Robertson Justice as her errant Irish uncle, Henry Jones as an amazingly unwarlike army sergeant and Lenore Lonergan as his battleaxe wife.

rsoonsa Producer Frank Ross makes his only effort at directing with this feathery comedy, a vanity piece for his wife Joan Caulfield, wherein the lovely and customarily demure actress displays a widened working range disparate from her normal personae, playing here as Dorinda Hatch, feminist author of an anti-male best-seller who becomes unsettled when a rakish photographer for Life Magazine, Bill Shelby (David Niven), attempts to woo her through a sly method of blackmail. During a picture taking session for the periodical Dorinda does some mugging designed to put the impudent Shelby in his place, but the latter turns the tables on her by using a daft face made by the writer as the proof for an upcoming Life cover, refusing to give the negative to her unless she allows him to kiss her, an act leading to romantic complications that raise doubts as to the sincerity of Dorinda's feminist beliefs. The work has a simple storyline, with some fatuous scenes of slapstick, but roles are well-performed by all members of the cast, despite a great deal of predictability in the dialogue, Caulfield earning the acting laurels as she and Niven luff toward each other in romantic folly, and there are skillful turns from Henry Jones and Lenore Lonergan as a comedic pair still in love, although not without conflict. The action moves briskly with nary a break and producer/director Ross has assembled top-tier technicians to showcase Caulfield, among them James Wong Howe, cinematographer, and Orry-Kelly, costumer, in addition to production designer Perry Ferguson, and a terrific score is contributed by Arthur Lange to cap off this pleasant and humorous soufflé.

richard.fuller1 Ever wonder how those Julia Roberts or Meg Ryan films will look in years to come? LIke this empty headed flick. I'm not even sure what it was about! Niven was a photographer, Joan Caufield was some independent female who had to challenge him about a woman's independence. Huh? A photograph of her crossing her eyes and pulling a lock of her hair across her upper lip like a moustache was supposed to be embarrassing and he put it on the cover of a magazine. Really odd movie and such a waste of David Niven. I have seen him salvage other movies. Alas, this one he could not. The film was a showboat for Caufield, and she couldn't be more uninteresting if she tried. One very amusing moment was Niven having a dream about Caufield and she is dressed like Sheena of the Jungle in a leopard print one piece swimsuit. Very bohemian! Think of Madonna of '52. The wooden gyrations are laughable to begin with, but just before this scene, we're shown an unamed African American woman who was the towel girl (!) at the restaurant and her dancing to the band's music was priceless. This chick really cut loose! I thought it was tremendously odd that this woman was uncredited and danced so much more better than Caufield, and that her scene would precede Caufield's big dance moment. Avoid this flick at all costs, unless you are an overwhelming David Niven fan, as I am. This was not one of his best.