The Big Bluff (1955)

The Age of Commercialism

Terrible acting, screenplay and direction.

Don't listen to the Hype. It's awful

Funny, strange, confrontational and subversive, this is one of the most interesting experiences you'll have at the cinema this year.

The 2nd Wilder directed a quirky suspense movie which has the trademarks of its author: beginning with Bromfield as a wicked scoundrel, the clubs, the beaches, Hawaii, late hours, and the jealousy—in this '55 movie, also in 'Manfish' from '56; except that here we get the glamorous side of a similar tale, with all the sordidness of the events, and with all the psychology and drama being left, alas, to … Bromfield, who was such an untalented player, and one would of enjoyed to see some class from at least one of the players. If the style is austere, cold though lively, sometimes awkward, the cast seems a bit of a motley crew, so that the story is sensibly well shown, but not very well acted.The sleazy storyline is suspenseful, but the characters are unlikable. Martha wasn't a leading actress, she was one for supporting roles, and it shows. Her part here is a wealthy widow, in a situation opposite to the one in a movie she had made 6 yrs earlier, 'Alimony', where she was a fortune huntress, now she's the duped wealthy spouse instead, as a woman with an unfortunate life, who clings to life and to an illusory happiness, and the director thought this enough to explain her unawareness. Martha V. manages once more to avoid eliciting our sympathy; she was a mediocre actress. The role was tailored to make us care, but regardless (but then again, the fact that her character is expended shows perhaps she's not even supposed to be that likable).The wealthy widow was from New York, her 3rd husband from Chicago, and they meet in California.

This was directed by Billy Wilder's brother. They weren't that close and it shows.Martha Vickers is very ill -- a few months, perhaps a year -- and has a good deal of money. Without telling her how serious her heart condition is, the doc suggests she take it easy and go to Los Angeles with her friend and companion, Eve Miller. New York City to Los Angeles, to relax. Out of the fire and into the frying pan, as they say.In L.A. they are looked after from time to time by the good doctor Robert Hutton, who is wise to Vicker's terminal condition. In fact, the only person who doesn't know is the patient herself. A very neat sociological analysis of "whether or not to tell the patient" was done by Anselm Strauss, whom the NY Times called "the father of medical sociology." He distinguished between "open" and "closed" awareness, and explored everything in between. Anselm was socially awkward but extremely bright, and a nice, accommodating guy. When he himself was dying of heart failure he continued his seminars at home, lying on his living room couch. (R.I.P.) Anyway, one of the people who is in on the game is the Los Angeles sharpster John Bromfield. He owes everyone money, although he drives what looks like a tinkered-with Jaguar and, salivating over the prospect of getting his hands on her fortune after she gives up the ghost, he takes her to the Scandia restaurant. It was a real restaurant on Sunset Boulevard, very posh, and quite the place to go in the mid-50s, especially if you're fond of what the menu calls gravelax and everybody else calls "lox". It subsequently expired of heart failure and an increasingly shabby milieu.Bromfield manages to marry Vickers, then systematically sets about trying to induce a heart attacks -- dancing, drinking, smoking, tennis, up long flights of stairs, switching sodium bicarbonate for her meds. Perversely, she seems to be improving. She's the incarnation of Rasputin, the Mad Monk. Finally Bromfield has to shoot her and arrange the setting to suggest suicide. There's a big twist at the end -- two or three, in fact -- but I won't give the end away.And, listen, I know this review is discursive and meandering but, believe me, it's at least as entertaining as the movie -- granted that's not saying much.If the expression "B movie" didn't exist, it would be necessary to invent it to describe this flick. As an added treat, the music by Manuel Compinsky is atrocious.

When scheming fortune hunter and erstwhile Latin lover Ricardo De Villa learns that a wealthy but sickly widow has terminal heart disease, he seduces and marries the vulnerable millionairess. Playing the part of a faithful and doting husband, he carries on a torrid affair with sexy exotic dancer Fritzi Darvel while avoiding the suspicious eyes of her jealous bongo-playing husband. When his wife's condition seems to go into remission, the impatient De Villa decides on action that will hasten her seemingly inevitable death.The plot sounds awfully racy but these are the 50s.This is sort of a film noir and it's worth a watch, despite the very bad prints that are available.Good story.Good acting.

The plot of "Big Bluff" is very contrived and hard to believe. A rich lady has a bad heart and has only, at most, a year to live. Despite this, the doctor and the lady's personal secretary BOTH think it's best not to tell her—and keep this from her! Instead, she's told to take a relaxing vacation—and they hope this might prolong her life a few months more. Little do they know that this retreat is the last thing she really needs.While in Los Angeles, hardly a place to go to relax, she meets with a money-grubbing Don Juan. When she finally does learn she only has a short time to live, she proposes to the Lothario and you know she's in for a rough time with the bum. As to what happens from there, try seeing the film for yourself, though the plot makes little sense—as why would a man want to kill a rich wife who is about to die anyway—especially so early on in the film.The bottom line is that this film is awfully broad in its writing and acting—so broad that it's hard to believe any of this. The entire film comes off as cheaply made and obvious. It's a shame, as the plot could have been good and the no-name cast could have been better if given a chance. Plus, the direction was shoddy—whenever lines are misspoken or actors talk over each other, the scenes are no re-shot! A few simple re-shoots would have really made the film look better. Because of this, even though the film had a dandy and ironic ending, the overall effect is like a badly directed episode of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents"—not a real honest-to-goodness movie.By the way, for you car buffs out there, this is probably the only movie in film history where a guy is being chased by a Nash Metropolitan—perhaps the least threatening and silliest pursuit car in history. In modern terms, this would be akin to a Mini Cooper giving chase!