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Virginia Mayo stars with Bruce Bennett in "Smart Girls Don't Talk," a 1948 noir courtesy of Warner Brothers.

Mayo plays Linda Vickers, who is caught in a robbery at a gambling casino owned by Marty Fain (Bennett). At one time, she had money; now she bounces checks. Fain doesn't want the police involved, so he asks his thugs to pay the criminal a visit and offers to pay back the customers for what they lost in the robbery. Vickers comes in with a tall story about losing $18000 in jewelry, and Fain demands to see the insurance policy. They go to her apartment in Fain's car and he says hers will be returned to her in the morning. At Linda's place (of course he knew she didn't have any policy) they have a drink...fade out. The next day the police arrive, and she finds out her car was used in a murder. The murdered man is the one who robbed the casino. Vickers makes some not so subtle hints about blackmail.

Linda's surgeon brother, 'Doc' (Robert Hutton) arrives and doesn't like Fain or the fact that his sister is involved with him. The plot thickens and soon, Doc becomes involved in some bad business.

Pretty good but not fabulous either in story or acting. The main actors are all likable, though. Mayo was very attractive with a terrific figure, and she did well in these noirs. Robert Hutton in looks has always reminded me of Jimmy Stewart. Bennett was always straightforward in his delivery with little variation. Nevertheless, he was certainly a remarkable man, an Olympic Silver medal winner in shotput under his real name, Herman Brix, went onto a career in films and lived to be 100.

If you are a fan of noirs, as I am, see this and enjoy it.

The one with the brains in Smart Girls Don't Talk is Virginia Mayo, a good-bad girl a little down on her luck who's open to some fudging when it comes to a buck. So when she's gambling in Bruce Bennett's Club Bermuda the night it's knocked over, she claims her paste ear-bobs were real diamonds. Bennett, eager to cover his clients' losses so the police don't come snooping around, sees through her ruse but falls for her anyway. (He drives her off to a ritzy roadhouse where they feast on châteaubriand - and after-dinner martinis.)

When her kid brother (Robert Hutton), just appointed to the surgical staff of a New York hospital, hits town, he meets the club's canary (Helen Westcott, who treats us to `The Stars Will Remember' - twice). But he disapproves of the company Mayo keeps. Deep down, so does she, and breaks off her affair with the casino boss. In a foul temper, Bennett kills a welsher in trying to recoup a bad debt, but takes a bullet himself. He staggers back to his club where Hutton is romancing Westcott; the surgeon is press-ganged into patching Bennett up. Rebuffing a payoff, Hutton raises fears that he, too, will turn canary, and one of Bennett's trigger-happy goons shoots him down. At first, Mayo refuses to believe that Bennett could be involved in the murder. Police detective Richard Rober (`I'm a policeman - I'm paid to have suspicions') tries to change her mind, and the wheels begin to turn....

Smart Girls Don't Talk is a brisk, big-town story with serviceable work from Mayo, Bennett, Rober and Tom D'Andrea (as Bennett's 2iC). Its director, Richard Bare, would work with Mayo again the next year in Flaxy Martin, where she played a duplicitous blonde (of course, she always played a blonde). She fares better here. Mayo lacked the tense skills necessary to project a believable femme fatale, but was quite appealing as a basically decent woman who's been around the block. That's what made her so smart.

This isn't bad but it has a false ring. Virginia Mayo is OK. At the start we hear about her being from a high society family with no money left to back that up. This gets lost.

She gets involved in a gambling house raid. The proprietor kind of likes her and also sees her as someone he could use. Enter her brother, the honest "Doc," just out of medical school. He sets her straight about the bad guys but they kill him.

The settings are believable -- clubs, apartments, streets. But it has no sense of reality. It's very formulaic.

The lower budget studios like PRC and Republic -- where have those all gone? They used to appear on local TV regularly -- did noir well. And surprisingly, MGM did it very well too.

Warner Bothers, which released this, had some very good ones but they were of a distinct kind. They were about detectives often, though "Nora Prentice" has the same leading man and is head and shoulders above this.

In sum, it moves along but it doesn't really work.

Ms. Mayo must have been friends with bit part player Helen Westcott, who had a fine career, because I remember both of them fondly from the film Flaxy Martin. I can't help but wonder if Mayo got Westcott her part in this film. Westcott's performance here is formidable, especially when questioned by the police; but my fondness of her is from Flaxy Martin.

As far as Smart Girls Don't Talk, I think it's the script that truly drags down this potential entry in the noir style. It's difficult to fault the director. Cinematography is good. Lighting not so noir.

I confess I've seen this at least five times, and yet I'm still not sure why. Is it because sometimes subpar is entertaining? Is it because it's Mayo? It's certainly not because it's the talented but lanky Bruce Bennett.

Perhaps I'm truly a junkie for 1940s Hollywood. In all honesty, this one's a toss-up. Heads or tails you'll like it or dislike it.

Petty criminal Johnny Warjack and his gang hold up the Club Bermuda, a casino nightclub. Club owner Marty Fain (Bruce Bennett) allows them to escape and orders his men to track them down later. Fain is covering all his customers' stolen cash. Not all the claims are believed. Broke socialite Linda Vickers (Virginia Mayo) insists that she lost expensive jewelry. In turn, Fain insists on seeing her insurance policy... at her apartment. On the next morning, Warjack is found murdered and police Lieutenant McReady (Richard Rober) comes to interview Vickers.

It's crime B-drama. It has some limited noir style. Virginia Mayo is doing yeoman's work. I like the premise and how it starts. It could go harder. A modern movie would play up the erotic part and add in more action. The story is not that dramatic. It has an interesting spin but it's nothing outstanding. It's solid work all around.

It's an interesting film and entertaining. The plot keeps moving, and there is an unexpected death. What makes it unusual is that, except for Mayo, it doesn't have any big stars. They have some solid supporting actors like Bruce Bennett and Tom D'Andrea.. But on a bigger budget there would be Cuddles or Jack Carson or Alan Hale. What this does is give lesser known actors bigger roles, like Bennett, who plays a bad guy in contrast to his loyal good-guy husband in Mildred Pierce, and Helen Westcott, who a year later had a marveous moment in the Adventures of Don Juan playing one of Don Juan's previous lovers whom he doesn't remember but she seizes the opportunity to reignite with him. Two years later, she would have the prime role of Gregory Peck's estranged ife in The Gunfighter. There's even Phyliss Coates, the first Lois Lane in The Adventures of Superman TV series, in her first role as a cigarette girl. It is norish and has a romantic ending that does come out of nowhere. But it's worth a look.

A romantic relationship between a charming, erudite gambler/hood and a wayward rich gal. Sounds like it could be promising, especially when the girl is played by Virginia Mayo with whom it is almost always worthwhile spending time. Unfortunately, the clunky screenplay by William Sackheim resolves the central conflict between these two halfway through the friggin picture so that the second half lacks any dramatic tension whatsoever. Plus, Sackheim's dialogue is, with the exception of a few Tom D'Andrea zingers (the future Gillis on "Life Of Riley" is here playing the Eve Arden role), humorless and stiff with lines like: "We are two trains meeting in a depot and now going separate ways". Oh, lordy. Also not helping matters is overscoring from David Buttolph (a poor man's Bronislau Kaper) and undistinguished cinematography from the usually good Ted McCord that gives the film a most generic back lot look. Give it a generous C plus, mostly for Mayo.

Impoverished debutante Virginia Mayo and gambling house owner Bruce Bennett start an affair. Miss Mayo calls it off on the advice of her brother, Doctor Robert Hutton. Then Bennett gets shot dealing with one of his welshing customers. Hutton treats him. Fearful he will report the gunshot wound to the police, Bennett's henchmen kill him.

Richard L. Bare's first feature has a good script, fine camerawork by Ted McCord, and Tom D'andrea giving good advice while looking like he's been eating persimmons. Bennett's dry, lecturing style of speaking works well to indicate he's careful about what he says, but Miss Mayo isn't quite up to the requirements of a leading lady on an emotional roller coaster. Keep an eye open for Phyllis Coates as a cigarette girl. I imagine she's working undercover for her paper.

This is one of those movies that ought to be good, but isn't. Probably because the dictates of plot require characters to change their stripes every 10 minutes, so that by the time we reached plot twist number 20, the willing suspension of disbelief is gone.

Too bad, too, because the setup is a good one, and star Virginia Mayo is a babe of the first order. Is Virginia Mayo a selfish wench that does not care that she is dating a gangster who casually orders his enemies killed? Or is she just clueless, because the gangster has been to the right schools, and does romantic banter in the best old movie tradition? Who knows? The tension could have been interesting, but the melodrama of the plot requires that those questions be dumped, as the well-educated, successful gangster makes some really stupid business management decisions, and new characters show up, act foolishly, and kick the plot in predictable directions. But hang on until the absolute end of the movie to see perhaps the most inappropriate romantic gesture EVER.

I tend to watch old movies over 2 or 3 nights and with some I wind up only watching half. My ratings are never as technical as some of the others here; I rate them on whether or not they hold my interest, as well as whether the actors and actresses are well cast.

I'm perplexed at the overall low rating for this film. I'm familiar with Virginia Mayo from The Best Years of Our Lives, and Jimmy Stewart lookalike Robert Hutton from the Janie movies, but I wasn't familiar with the rest of the cast. Bruce Bennett was really good, great to look at, and was a former Olympic athlete who lived to 100!

Smart Girls Don't Talk held my interest and had a few twists and turns. I could find no flaws and enjoyed the music and the noir atmosphere. 10 stars from me!

Always enjoyed most of the pictures that Virginia Mayo has performed in and also Robert Hutton. In this picture, Virginia Mayo plays (Linda Vickers),"The Girl From Jones Beach",'49, where she has trouble trying to be a good girl and at the same time likes being bad and having a ball drinking and gambling with Bruce Bennett(Marty Fain),"Mystery Street",'50, who is up to his neck in trouble and winds up getting shot with a gun. They seem to trace the bullet with old fashioned 1948 methods, nothing like CSI today. Robert Hutton,(Doc Vickers),"The Secret Door",'64 tries to help his sister, Linda get on the straight and narrow path while she gets herself in deeper and deeper problems. They use a Wire recorder to try and get evidence against the killer and everybody seems to all fall down a staircase together. If it was not for Virginia Mayo and Robert Hutton, this picture would be long FORGOTTEN!