One is the Bahama's. The other features a giant apple, and when the girl from the big apple goes to the big pineapple, it's not long before she becomes a Bahama mama. That lady in the sarong here is the flashy Yvonne de Carlo, the future Lily Munster, the future one shot Broadway diva who proved that indeed she was still here. She's a successful career woman who by accident inherits a bequest from a wealthy man, given to her through the man's widow (Frieda Inescort) who believes that there was more going on but didn't seem to mind. Newly rich, de Carlo goes to the Bahama's with her friend Zachary Scott to check out a nightclub bought by Kurt Kasznar and ends up finding her own green acres, not at all reluctant to depart Park Avenue.

Looking at first like a thin version of Alan Hale's skipper, James Arness jumps into the story, stirring up de Carlo and making Scott jealous. Later, an old childhood sweetheart (Howard Duff) shows up, stirring her even more to melodramatic delight. While there aren't any movie stars, there are swimming pools (right off the ocean to obviously avoid sharks),and it becomes a colorful delight, getting campier by the minute. Something shady is soon revealed, and it ain't two ladies under a banana tree. Along with the previous year's "Underwater", this is a delight for the eyes, and when de Carlo breaks into "Bahama Mama", be sure not to sip your tropical cocktail. Scarlet O'Hara's mother, Barbara O'Neill, so deliciously nasty to Bette Davis in "All This and Heaven Too", adds another imperious role to her roster as Duff's very young looking mother.

Made during the last days of Republic studios, it was one of the rare times that studio head Herbert J. Yates cast another star over his wife, Vera "Hruba" Ralston, and thank God for that! Crawford and Stanwyck also ventured there around this time, like Maureen O'Hara had done for "The Quiet Man". There's a Christmas sequence with little kiddies singing "Yes, Jesus Loves Me", and while it could be very cloying, it's actually very sweet. For much of the film, however, it's all about de Carlo and her many admirers, some big fishing scenes (she catches a marlin!),and some travelog style shots of the main areas. But the main story really could be set anywhere. Ultimately, that doesn't really matter, because it is fabulously entertaining from start to finish, colorfully filled with everything that made movie going an absolute joy in the golden age.

I'm sure the cast and crew of Flame Of The Islands was grateful to Herbert J. Yates and Republic Pictures for a nice vacation in the Bahamas which were still a British colony when the film was released. The scenic cinematography of the Bahamas is the best thing that this film has going for it next to Yvonne DeCarlo's beauty. A pair of natural wonders.

As to the film itself it's a muddled cross between an action adventure film and a Back Street soap opera which I had trouble figuring out. Career woman DeCarlo is summoned by the widow Frieda Inescourt and given $100,000.00 in hush money as DeCarlo was Inescourt's late husband's Katharine Hepburn to his Spencer Tracy.

She takes the money and goes to the Bahamas to invest it in a new gambling club with Kurt Kaszner and on general principles one does not go into business with Kaszner and the characters he plays. Along for the ride is Zachary Scott. While in the Bahamas she meets up with both preacher/beachcomber James Arness and society lion Howard Duff and his Barbara O'Neil. Back when she was a teen Duff did her wrong.

One thing that you can rely on is that every male member in this cast was panting hot and heavy for Yvonne. Even the gangsters that Kaszner brought in as silent partners were giving her the once over. Who in this soap opera will Yvonne wind up with. That's for you to find out by watching.

A most subpar soap opera helped by Yvonne DeCarlo and those low cuts items she wears.

I usually edit and re-write the notes I jot down at a movie's press preview, but for some reason I kept my original material. Here it is:

Despite a credit title brag that this film was actually photographed in the Bahamas, it is obvious that a 2nd unit contributed the few bits of local color transferred to the screen (often via clumsy back projection). Except for a few brief shots of Miss De Carlo herself, and even less of Mr Duff, the entire roster of Republic's players remain fixed in the 4024 Radford Avenue, North Hollywood studio. And oh, yes, I forgot to add Miss De Carlo's double to the location roster. She's the one who takes the plunge. A really lovely girl. It's a pity she didn't carry the role itself.

Okay, I'm prejudiced, I'll admit it. Like a few other Hollywood stars I could mention, De Carlo had little time for the press. She was obviously bored. She'd answer a few questions in monosyllables and then give us the brush-off with the excuse that the director needed her on the set. And when we wandered on to the set about 40 minutes later, there she'd be, talking most animatedly with one or two of her male co-stars – and the director nowhere in sight! Yes, that could happen for real occasionally, but with Miss De C., it happened all the time. Yes, I'm prejudiced. You have been warned!

It's obvious – studio publicity to the contrary – that De Carlo's "singing" has been dubbed (except for a drunken chorus). Her miming is, to say the least, inexpert; while her "dancing", to be charitable, is embarrassingly gauche.

In fact, Flame of the Islands is a sorry film all around. The screenplay is impossibly contrived, with characters so inconsistently motivated from scene to scene as to drive a halfway decent actor to despair. Of course, few of the players in this line-up probably noticed, though Zachary Scott does seem to wear an understandable air of bewilderment. We wonder what his character is supposed to be too. It seems he is just along for the ride. No such problems afflict De Carlo and Duff. In fact, Duff seems even more wooden than usual. Only Kurt Kasznar as the amorous villain has any chance to shine.

The screenplay seems to have gone through a wringer in the censor's office and has thus been robbed of what little sense it may have had originally. Laughably inept cost-cutting robs even the final (and only) spurt of action of its belated bit of drama.

With all these negatives against the movie, Ludwig's direction is understandably banal and lethargic. Admittedly, the film's editor has attempted to speed things up a bit by eliminating some tedious continuity footage. Some further jump cuts have probably been contributed by the studio's desire to chop the film down to exactly 90 minutes. Mr. Yates was not a fan of long movies – unless, of course, they starred Mrs. Yates.

The photography is likewise indifferent. (The first reel in the TV version seems to be printed through gauze).

Yes, all told, this is a very sorry film, which even rabid Republic fans (like me) will count a dead loss.