Oh boy. One word that keeps recurring in reviews of this and most Lewton films is "moody," and it is moody, but you really have to be willing to go along with the crappy B-movie aesthetic to get caught up in that mood. There is a lot of really cool stuff here, intricate character relationships, meditations on depression and evil, and one of the darkest endings I've seen in an old Hollywood film. But like my friend said about Cat People it really does feel like a high schooler's first screenplay, I think largely due to time constraints. It might be that I wasn't in the right mind frame or that Robson, even with Musuraca on board, is no Tourneur, but I had trouble getting into this one. I like it more in retrospect though, might be a grower.
Given the locations and scenario I could hardly fail to like it. Something bugs me about Wellman though; the least I can say is he doesn't lend this the lyricism and atmosphere it deserves and could easily have evoked in more capable hands. And this is probably the fault of the screenwriter though it's a similar problem to The Ox-Bow Incident: the central situation could and should be ripe with dread and moral ambiguity, but instead it quickly sorts itself into black and white morality and resolves smoothly with only one likable character getting the ax (in fairness I expected that one to see it through to the end). I might feel less strongly if my man Richard Widmark hadn't been relegated to the role of one-dimensional villain rather than a complex character. It's still a good movie but one that sacrifices a good deal of potential insight for pleasantry.
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