Manicured and coiffed for battle, man-eater Lana Turner arrives in Ranchipur and spots her prey in the guise of a turbaned bottle-tanned Richard Burton. Turner as the notorious Lady Edwina Esketh takes no prisoners and leaves a trail of broken men wherever she hunts. The noble Dr. Safti played by Burton seems too intelligent to succumb to the obvious wiles of La Turner, but surrender he does. Although both Turner and Burton are warned against the affair by the local Maharani, Eugenie Leontovich, Turner feels that Burton needs instruction in matters of the heart, and love or hormones conquer all. The turgid melodrama, "The Rains of Ranchipur," is played out against the color of a provincial Indian city, where the rain beats incessantly, and the earth occasionally moves. Meanwhile, an alcoholic Fred MacMurray and an irritating ingenue, Joan Caulfield, go through the motions of a secondary, but unconvincing love coupling. A stoic Michael Rennie as the patient Lord Esketh stands by and tolerates his wife's promiscuous behavior; he traded a title for her money in their loveless marriage of convenience.Fans of Lana Turner will not be disappointed. The Grande Dame plays her part with gusto; hair, makeup, and nails immaculate, except during the requisite dramatic scenes, when she either pursues her man into a raging downpour or lays pale and wan, but definitely gorgeous on a sick bed. Richard Burton is too good an actor to be less than professional, although his role as an Indian doctor raised from the untouchable class is a stretch of credibility; Burton's dark make-up seems to lighten as the romance blooms, perhaps to soften any backlash from foes of inter-racial dating. Although filmed in Pakistan, evidently few local thespians were available, because, besides Burton, casting the Russian actress Leontovich as a Maharani is another amusing stretch. Unfortunately, the usually dependable MacMurray seems to be sleepwalking and never convinces as the drunk that other characters seem to think he is. Perhaps working with Caulfield kept him sober; her character, Fern Simon, is annoying at best and as grating as fingernails on a blackboard at worst.Based on a 1937 novel by Louis Bromfield, The Rains Came, which was previously filmed in 1939 with Tyrone Power and Myrna Loy, "The Rains of Ranchipur" shows signs of a thick 500-page novel having been condensed into a 104-minute film. The motivation for the secondary MacMurray-Caulfield romance is particularly sketchy, and scenes at times jump without explanatory bridges. However, the climactic earthquake and floods are quite good for a 1955 film, and the special effects received a well deserved Oscar nomination that year. Directed by Jean Negulesco, "The Rains of Ranchipur" is a trashy soap opera that may elicit a few giggles from time to time and will definitely entertain those who enjoy 1950's melodrama. However, for fans of Lana Turner, the film is a must; Turner bites into a showy role and chews the scenery with the best. The old adage that "they don't make movies like this anymore" applies here; some may consider that a blessing, while others will see it as a loss.

This film is one of those movies I sit through ("Elephant Walk" being another good example) for the special effects laden climaxes. "The Rains" is one of the greatest examples of Hollywood miscasting and racial bait and switch ever. First we have Richard Burton as Dr. Safti, a HINDU doctor. He plays the role like a weak rabbit in costumes that make his macho form especially wimpy. Eugenie Leontovich plays the Grand Diva of Ranchipur "The Maharani" who tries valiantly to out-diva Lana Turner but alas, fails. Both are unconvincing but the camp factor is worth the experience. Fred MacMurray has a turn as a drunk with a heart of gold and Michael Rennie is wasted as Lana's husband. Then there is Ms. Turner. Playing a poor little rich girl to the hilt, she manages to be uber glamorous even in the midst of a deadly fever. The romance between Turner and Burton is embarrassing in a "I love you but I really can't back it up" kind of way, and you start rooting for the rains to do their thing. When they finally get going, it's a good old-fashioned disaster movie for a while with heroics all around, then it's back to the potboiler and a disappointing ending. If you want a fake Bollywood extravaganza with Lana Turner getting drenched in high heels, this is your film.As a postscript to this review, if you want to see the real thing, check out the 1939 classic "The Rains Came", a much more entertaining, higher quality version with a very, very different outcome. It makes this one look like a bad made for TV movie.

You know, some movies are great and others tank..... This one definitely tanked at my house.My mother and I watched this late one night thinking that it would be interesting because it was a movie starring Richard Burton right when his career was just taking off.WRONG!!!! Not only did this movie NOT help his career take off, but could have torpedoed it from the bomb that this movie was.Richard Burton stars in this movie as an Indian doctor who returns to his "roots" by doctoring the sick and needy.Lana Turner also appears as a wealthy American socialite (very social indeed) married to Michael Rennie who, I am assuming, is of English nobility. They happen to be in India as the guests of the Maharani (female version of the Maharaja, a big person in Indian society)I really don't need to go into detail about how Lana Turner and Richard Burton's characters get together, but I can assure you that they do. Michael Rennie warns the Doctor about his wife, basically saying, "Ya know, I have an airhead of a wife who likes to sleep with anything that remotely resembles even a coat rack, but you can still sleep with her and we can all be friends in the end"A few "action" scenes have their cheesy moments. In one scene, Michael Rennie is on a tiger hunt in India when all of a sudden a tiger (an actor wrapped in a tiger rug) flies across the screen and lands on him as he attempts to kill it, thus immobilizing him for a good part of the movie, giving Turner and Burton their chance to frolic with each other in some places.Another is when "The Rains" (read: killer monsoon) come and knock off the dams and bridges and wash out the poorhouse sections of the town. It goes for the same as the earthquake.The dialogue just flat lines throughout the movie. Towards the end, Turner and Burton's white, hot passion for each other cools way down with the help of "The Rains". Turner decides to be shallow when Burton tries to explain why he "couldn't come to her in her hour of need" Basically, it's like watching two elementary school kids in a little romance when all of a sudden, the girl gets mad at the boy for not playing with her on the swing set and decides to break up with him just because the boy missed one day of swing set time. Petty romances here, people.The ending was even bad. The audience expects one thing, and just the total opposite happens. I felt that the director or the scriptwriter needed some major adjustments to their craft in this movie.However, the movie was appropriately titled. The Rains of Ranchipur washed out my evening. I don't want to be a wet blanket, but I have to give this movie a -2 out of 1-10. It was that bad.

Oh, dear! One of my favorite mid-Fifties Twentieth-Century Fox CinemaScopuses was nearly ruined for me a few years back when Bette Midler released her comedy album, "Mud WILL Be Flung, Tonight!" in which she does an elaborate routine in her character as "Soph" in bed with her boyfriend, "Ernie" who excuses himself to use the loo. When she hears certain sounds emanating from the bathroom, upon his return to the boudoir she demands: "Ernie, what the hell was that?!?" and he advises: "Soph, those were the Rains of Raunch-I-Poor!!" The routine goes on to appropriate a few other famous movie titles like "The Snows of Kilimanjaro," "The Winds of Krakatoa" (i.e., "Krakatoa, East of Java")...well, you get the idea, I would guess!Anyway, Ms. Midler, no respecter of popular culture when it comes to her usually successful attempts at camp humor in her standup comedy routines, probably enjoyed this elaborate remake as much as I did, if she's ever seen it. 20th-Century Fox assembled a nicely balanced cast and assigned some top-flight professionals to give the whole thing the kind of gloss that's pretty much a thing of the past now. Of special note are the Academy Award-nominated special effects, rather convincing when I saw this on a big CinemaScope screen; some very nice use of DeLuxe Color (everyone looks handsome indeed, especially Miss Turner); and Hugo Friedhofer's tasteful score. (He was a composer who always successfully resisted producers' attempts to add music to an excessively gloppy extent and he was often astute in adding an exotic touch, where appropriate, with just a few bars of orchestration.) By the way I don't think, contrary to another comment here, that the production sent a second unit to Pakistan or anywhere outside of California. I might be wrong, since the opening sequence with Lord and Lady Esketh arriving by train into a bustling Indian metropolis is a terrific example of Hollywood fakery if it's not the real thing. There's one brief shot, however, where a limousine is seen turning into the supposed gates of the Maharani's compound and it is unmistakably the West Gate of Bel-Air, one of West Los Angeles' poshest subdivisions.