Heiress Barbara Carlin soon learns that the reports of her death have been greatly exaggerated. This Poverty Row film is a schizophrenic amalgam of noir elements and screwball comedy, which Director Bernard Vorhaus combines inexpertly. However, DP John Alton makes this film enjoyable, utilizing deep focus, low key lighting, creeping shadows, and wonderful compositions!
Barbara Carlin (June Lockhart) returns from vacationing without her selfish husband Rod (Mark Daniels) to attend her own funeral. The film begins with a conflagration as a barn is consumed by flames, as firefighters struggle to hold back a man who valiantly rushes to save his wife. A stretcher is paraded past the man, and he is shown a locket with Barbara’s name and a compact (inscribed as a gift from George), which he identifies as belonging to his wife. We cut to the funeral (days, weeks later?) and a woman rides in the back of a taxi, black veil drawn over her face, who asks the driver to follow the procession. “Whose funeral is it lady”, he asks. “Mine”, she flatly states. Great setup that soon descends into goofy hijinks and vaudeville antics.
The acting is tepid, and characters act unbelievably, so when Barbara reveals her identity to Rod and her family attorney Michael (Hugh Beaumont), their shock is momentary and reductive. The servants react in comedic exaggerated ways, while Barbara tells stories in flashback so she can understand the motives of those close to her, because she believes she was the object of a murder attempt. So, who is the crispy critter in her grave? Well, that’s part of the mystery to be solved by our wide-eyes heroine, who feels no need to involve the local police. Is the murderer Rod, her soon-to-be-ex-husband? Is it George (Greg McClure), the lunkhead whose biceps do his thinking? Is it her adopted and neurotic little sister Rusty (Cathy O’Donnell) who still harbors a grudge against their father for excising her from the Will? Though the film runs barely over an hour, by the third act you probably won’t care who the fuck it is.
Though the absurd story gets more preposterous as it progresses, it’s the photography and the framing that make this interesting. Legendary cinematographer John Alton imbues this low budget affair with style, elevating this trashy potboiler to some level of Art. He often foregrounds objects and uses them to divide characters in a two shot, isolating them from each other though they may be in close proximity. One beautiful composition involves a medium close-up two shot towards the camera as Barbara speaks, and behind her and still in perfect focus, responding to her conversation, is Rusty. This depicts Barbara’s dominating personality and reduces Rusty to a smaller figure in the background. We also get another medium close-up three shot when Barbara tracks down Rusty and her boxing beau George, and Alton has the girls on either side of the frame arguing, while George remains seated in the middle, a hulking man powerless against these two strident siblings! All of this in deep focus. Alton’s use of lighting is masterful, and when the murderer is revealed it’s by use of key lighting which accentuate the stony gaze of the killer. Alton put more effort into this film than the Director or any of the actors, who remain rather mediocre and goofy throughout the story.
Final Grade: C
