The Temptress

Wealthy, paralyzed John Stuart is dying in Monte Carlo. His wife, Joan Maude, has a boyfriend and wants money, more money, and freedom while she is still young. His son, Don Stannard, wants the old man's nurse, Shirley Quentin. The family doctor, Arnold Bell, says that what is killing Stuart is unhappiness.

And so he dies. But is it a natural death? This movie is a bit of moping melodrama, with the rich suffering in mink while those around them seem perfectly happy. I don't like it. There are no characters you can root for, unless it's the butler; all he wants is a well made cup of tea served at tea time, not the eternal French coffee, which he proclaims is bad for the liver.

This melodrama features an intense performance by Joan Maude as a vain, self-centred second wife of an older man, who is prepared to kill him and his son to get the money to indulge her lover, her gambling addiction, and her craving for luxury. It is uncanny how much Joan Maude resembles Hedy Lamarr, and I did seriously wonder! Arnold Bell as an idealistic doctor corrupted by the desire to get the money to found a hospital and complete his medical research is convincing and striking in his role. The direction by Oswald Mitchell is remarkably wooden, and some of the actors appear to be reading their lines from cards over each other's shoulders. The budget could hardly have been lower. Don Stannard as the son is stolid but uninspired, but Shirley Quentin as the nurse whom he wants to marry is cheery and charming. This postwar British B picture has real entertainment value if you do not mind the low production standards and the lack of spontaneity of some of the performances, as well as the creaking direction and editing. The plot is rather complex, apparently as a result of coming from an uncredited novel, which results in this film rising slightly above its natural level. You can readily imagine the missing 200 pages of the story which didn't fit into the film. It is a pleasant diversion if you like British B movies of the period, and enjoy studying the obsolete manners of the time, which are well conveyed. Ferdy Mayne is suitably unctuous, mannered, and creepy as the cad, and is a true period type.

Joan Nausea performance as Lady Clifford has to be seen to be believed. She enunciated like A French dalek. The plot is risible and provides little in the way of stimulating entertainment. Allot the actors are abysmal and writing and direction never rise above the mediocre.