Lana Turner, who's married to invalid Lloyd Nolan, has fallen for his doctor Anthony Quinn in one of Lana's most underrated films. This has to be one of the best examples of the melodrama genre, with Lana looking great as usual. I love it when movies know how to fill the cast with recognizable names, giving each role a chance to stand out: Anthony Quinn, Richard Basehart, Lloyd Nolan, Sandra Dee, John Saxon, Ray Walston, silent-screen star Anna May Wong, and Virginia Grey, who was an almost constant presence in Lana's later films. How you can go wrong? Granted, it may be campy or cheesy in some places, with loopholes to boot. But it wouldn't be melodrama without them. And, watching Anthony be driven out of his mind, is priceless. Only a great actor as him could overact so well. And, Sandra Dee comes off surprisingly well in her role, as the stepdaughter skeptic of her stepmother, who goes shopping, but comes back with no packages. If you're yearning for a good old-fashioned movie, the kind they just don't make anymore, this is for you. It's out on DVD, with Madame X. (That's another review.) Knock yourself out! Also, with Lana and John Saxon together in San Francisco, it feels like early Falcon Crest all over again. You gotta love it.

This is another one of my favorite camp movies, though I'm sure Ross Hunter didn't intend that. It's an opulent, big budget soaper with Lana Turner rich and glamorous in the lead, which guarantees us some nice clothes anyway. Her husband is the sickly Lloyd Nolan, and his doctor is Lana's boyfriend, played by Anthony Quinn. Quinn is just aching to put an air bubble in that hypodermic and knock off Nolan. The next thing you know, we're at Lloyd's funeral.

Of course, as soon as she's a widow, Lana has another gentleman caller, played by Richard Basehart, and she starts getting blackmail notes. Someone knows that Lloyd had some help going into the great beyond. Soon it's time for another murder...

Portrait in Black has some really funny scenes and situations in it. My favorite is when Lana's character, who never got her driver's license, has to drive 25 miles on the Pacific Coast Highway in the rain. It's a riot! John Saxon, Sandra Dee, Ray Walston, Anna Mae Wong, and Virginia Gregg are along for support. Dee plays Turner's daughter, which is good casting. If you like this kind of big-budget potboiler, don't miss Portrait in Black.

Trash comes in many appearances, and no matter how you disguise it, it still remains trash. In the case of this Ross Hunter soap opera, over-produced after the success of "Magnificent Obsession" and "Imitation of Life", the result is a re-tread of what star Lana Turner had done (much better) in the original "The Postman Always Rings Twice". Here, she is again married to a much older man, the possessive Lloyd Nolan, a bed ridden tyrant intent on making her life miserable. He has her followed everywhere and violently objects when she wants to learn how to drive so she doesn't need to utilize their chauffeur (a wasted Ray Walston). What comes very apparent is that the bored Turner is having an affair, with Nolan's own doctor (Anthony Quinn),whose obsession with Turner borders on insanity. A syringe filled with air quickly dispatches Nolan, and Turner and Quinn spend the rest of the film trying to keep their affair secret while dealing with an apparent blackmailer.

Who could the blackmailer be? Dour housekeeper Anna May Wong (who suffers racial indignities at the hands of Walston, the most obvious suspect),Nolan's attorney Richard Basehart, the young son of a former business rival (John Saxon) or his daughter from his first marriage (Sandra Dee) are the apparent suspects as the party sending the hand-written letter. While it is all attractive looking and Turner is still lovely, Quinn is totally off-putting in this role, constantly reminding himself of his Hippocratic oath and citing moral laws he's already broken. The screenplay is too self-conscious of its own moral flaws and keeps trying to manipulate you into empathizing with the lovers because of the horrid husband Turner had to suffer with.

Usually, I like these types of films in a guilty pleasure sort of way; The trashier, the better. However, in the case of this film, it somehow feels artificial, like someone took a pulp novel, transported it into a screenplay as originally written, found a bunch of available major stars and threw it together without regards to adding in any quality. The acting is badly melodramatic, the characters feel one dimensional, and the whole feeling is of a soufflé that is about to be touched and collapsed without being serveable.