There's something quite remarkable at the heart of this honest and direct portrayal of a very human crisis. The leads here - Frederic March and Florence Eldridge, real-life husband and wife - are completely and thoroughly a middle-aged couple and depicted as such, in all their wrinkles and folds and reflections on lives that have been lived. It's a reminder that the two kinds of people we see in movies are the very young and beautiful and the very old. The Cookes here are seemingly fully filled in, a husband and wife with grown children, in the midst of real lives, inhabiting their marriage with the deep love that is far beyond the romantic love that's the staple of motion pictures. This isn't the dashing Frederic March of the 1930s but a mature, restrained father and husband. It's a bit melodramatic at times - director Michael Gordon is a journeyman professional and not William Wyler, director of the great film of that era starring March, The Best Years of Our LIves. But watch for the details, such as the sharp, discordant strings stabbing along as windshield wipers swipe across the screen. I think I saw that in another movie made a few years later.

I recorded this film last night on TCM and I am watching it now. I think it is rather well made, with some extraordinary performances, but a few things do not work for me. First, I want to discuss the scene where she experiences wincing pain and breaks the mirror in the bedroom while she is packing. We get this quick dramatic scene and then it is not mentioned again. Of course, the filmmakers are letting us know, by foreshadowing it, how fatal her prognosis is. But how did she explain to her husband the mirror getting broken? And even if she had it fixed without his knowledge, wouldn't she know at that moment that there is something terribly wrong with her? People having good days do not go around smashing bedroom mirrors.Second, and this plot point might seem minor, but why is it that when they pack to go on their trip he takes the note explaining her full medical condition? Obviously, the filmmakers have neatly included it in his suitcase so that she can find it and learn about her situation. But wouldn't he have have left this information in his office or already sent it on to the local physician?And third, now this is what bothers me most, because it is certainly not addressed-- but when he gets behind the wheel during the raging storm with his wife in the passenger seat-- how does he know that his plan to kill her will be successful? What if he kills himself in the process, too? Can we assume that he was not only homicidal but suicidal as well? Yet, did he ever take into account the possibility that he may not survive the wreck but his wife could? If so, what good would that accident have done? Obviously, in the very next scene we see that his plan apparently succeeded and the only visible evidence that he was even in a serious crash is the cane he walks with for the rest of the picture. He has no disabilities or scars (not even a bruise or scratch) while his wife conveniently (and mercifully?) experienced a much more final outcome.Finally, another thing that didn't make sense to me is: when did she figure out he was giving her something stronger than aspirin? And how was she to know how toxic it was? So was her overdose intentional or accidental? This is not really explained, even later at the trial. It seems a bit hard to believe that she would have put the drugs into her purse without him realizing that she had taken them. What seems to be happening at one turn after another in this picture is that the filmmakers are trying to dramatize a philosophical thesis about mercy killing. But because they have fully worked out all the plot details, we are left to wonder if this could have been a better film than it is and if the points could have been made more smoothly and convincingly. As it is we are left with an artistic statement about a difficult decision regarding the quality or end of life, but we are given it in uneven terms and in a scope that is overshadowed by contrivance instead of the social realism they may have been striving to attain.

Fascinating Film that Daringly Approaches the Subject of Euthanasia. In Doing so it also has Liberal Elements Inserted about the Rigid Judicial System that has a Tendency Toward Antiquated ("Powdered Wigs") by the Book Procedures.Edmond O'Brien is the Lawyer that Questions a Hard-Boiled Judge, while Dating His Daughter. The Judge Played by Fredric March goes through a Tumultuous Time Dealing with His Wife's Terminal Illness. But the Acting Accolades must go to Florence Eldridge who Gives a Riveting Performance.This Thoughtful Piece of Social Commentary is Rich and Rewarding with Taut and Suspenseful Scenes that can at Times be Heartbreaking. This is an Odd Movie to be Sure, and is Well Worth a Watch for its Genuine Concern about Troubling Things that are Rarely Discussed (especially in 1948), but Linger on the Fringe of Everyday Life.

This film's relentless plotline marches straight-ahead forward as you squirm, fascinated, in your chair. The story is the familiar one about the onset of terminal illness within a solid American family of the 1940s. Never mind that it delves into MGM-style sermonizing; the great real-life husband/wife team of Fredric March and Florence Eldridge portray the couple whose once-comfortable lives are now being separated by an unstoppable and fast-advancing disease. The helpless husband, the uncomplaining wife, and their final attempt to recapture happier days with a doomed weekend outing is the stuff of deep film drama indeed. The sense of onrushing darkness is tangible through the film-noir camera shadings of Hal Mohr (Captain Blood, Phantom of the Opera [1943], The Climax), and Daniele Amfitheatrof's rich musical score. "An Act of Murder" makes a profound statement on the value, and the fragility, of life.