One of the first things I noticed about this entry was its running time. Weighing in at just on two hours it's considerably longer than other Mitchum films of the time, genre, and RKO titles in general, for example the follow-up teaming of Mitchum and Russell, Macao, the following year was much shorter as were Out Of The Past and The Big Steal. Fortunately it's not ALL flab but there's no hiding that Hughes shot it three times before achieving something he wanted to release. The result is a weird blend of two genres one anticipating My Favorite Year features a picture stealing Vincent Price as a blend of Errol Flynn and Jack Barrymore whilst the other is a bod- standard noir with spin in which Raymond Burr plays a Lucky Luciano type mafioso in exile who has eyes to get back to the States and hatches a plan that requires only a patsy of similar build, height, etc, from whom a plastic surgeon can graft the face onto Burr. Enter Mitchum's easy-come, easy-go gambler. Thow in the likes of Marjorie Reynolds, Charles McGraw, and Jane Russell and you have an elegant noir on your hands. Well worth a look.

I love "film noir," and this film was OK until the end. It's almost as if this were two separate movies, classic dead serious film noir at the beginning later turning into a dopey attempted comedy at the end. I know Vincent Price was a fine actor, but his character was way too silly and "over the top." Also, the hypodermic scene was way too dragged out. Robert Mitchum was, as usual, great as ever; but I wonder if he wasn't embarrassed by the really goofy ending. It's for these reasons that I cannot rate the film higher. However, the thought occurred to me that maybe this was some kind of "experimental ending," some attempt to surprise the audience. However, for me it just didn't work, I wasn't surprised but rather disappointed by the "transition."

A down-on-his-luck Mitchum is bribed to go to Mexico where he meets an assortment of characters, including a menacing Raymond Burr.According to TMC, studio honcho Howard Hughes was greatly impressed by Vincent Price and insisted that his part be expanded. It was, in spades, resulting unfortunately in two movies in one. The first half is pretty fair noir with the two icons Mitchum and Russell traipsing around a sound-stage Mexico. The second half, however, is little short of a mess, due to Price who appears to have been ordered onto the wrong set with the wrong script. Somehow, Russell has dropped out of sight, and in her place we get a Shakespeare spouting slice of ham, Price, who I guess is supposed to be funny. The intercutting between Mitchum being tortured and Price doing slapstick is almost like sticking the Three Stooges into the middle of a Nazi interrogation. If this is supposed to be clever satire of movie heroics, as some apologists claim, then I wish I could stop cringing.It might be interesting to know what the screenwriters originally had in mind (apparently, there were six of them, probably four doing re-writes to please kingpin Hughes). But the result is near incoherence and the waste of a noir icon and an Amazon princess. More damningly, it's the best argument I've seen in awhile for keeping the suits in their offices and as far from the set as possible.

Howard Hughes really should have stuck with his planes and Kleenex boxes and let the artists whose work he often produced be. The man was a businessman first and an artist second. In this movie he sells a light pointless product to '50s audiences, in what starts off as an intriguing though slightly contrived film noir. Robert Mitchum plays Dan Milner, the usual sleepy-eyed down-on-his-luck gambler, who is offered to have his debts paid by a $50,000 job down in a coastal Mexican resort by a deported American gangster hiding out in Italy. Of course he has to accept the job without questions for the plot to keep rolling on, and soon finds a love interest in Jane Russell's musical Lenore Brent. At the resort he meets an obnoxious stockbroker and Lenore's lover, movie star Mark Cardigan, who has recently made a trashy men-in-tights blockbuster and is too busy enjoying the hunting of local wildlife to notice the budding chemistry between Milner and his girlfriend.There are many great comedic moments in these scenes, but no real plot development. Milner confronts two suspicious noir characters in the supposed artist, but actual plastic surgeon, Krafft and thuggish Thompson. Both await the arrival of mobster Nick Ferraro, so they can graft relatively unconnected and unknown loner Milner's face onto him before sending him back into the states.The plot is quite ridiculous and a lot of time watching the film is waiting for something dramatic to happen. Meanwhile, Vincent Price's colourful thespian and Jim Backus' turn at bumbling broker Myron Winton are fun to watch, but the picture simply doesn't know what it is. Apparently the screenplay was being written while they were shooting the movie, the director was fired by Hughes and Robert J Wilke, who originally portrayed Nick Ferraro was replaced by Raymond Burr as the movie was in production. The tongue-in-cheek happy ending doesn't fit in what is supposed to be a film noir, and it feels as though it could have been a pretty decent entry in the genre if it wasn't for the meddling money behind the movie. Men like Howard Hughes' didn't understand the rules of the great genre and would rather have sold candy floss like this. Shame.