Please Believe Me

Silly bauble put over by expert comic players. This was early in Deborah Kerr's Hollywood career before From Here to Eternity moved her to the front ranks and Metro was still trying to figure out what to do with her. Here her English reserve is put to good use as the three men put the big rush on her and she slowly loosens up but always manages to keep them at bay by her brains and dignity. She always was a quite charming comedienne able to elevate material like this.

The film also has several other excellent comic actors who similarly buoy the script with their charm. Peter Lawford wasn't much of a dramatic actor but for suave sophistication with a light touch, which is needed here, few were better. Two wonderful all around actors, Robert Walker and James Whitmore, are paired as a devious couple of wannabe swindlers who seem too goodhearted to be very successful at their work. The weak link, if he can be called that, is Mark Stevens, he's not bad but he lacks the breezy skill and screen presence of his fellow actors.

The film is a minor credit on all the performers resume and one of the endless trifles churned out by MGM at its peak but on that basis it's a very pleasant diversion

Deborah Kerr plays no-nonsense British lass who inherits a ranch from her Texas pen-pal and sails for the States; aboard ship, she is wooed by three bachelors: a lawyer, a millionaire playboy, and a con-artist. Sleek, genteel comedy plays like a blue-haired drawing-room farce. Kerr chirps along happily, but there's really no character here for her--just the outline of one (we can't even be sure what she did for a living back in London). Although there are no big laughs, amiable second-banana James Whitmore steals all his scenes with little effort. Extremely minor offering, one of the very last from famed producer Val Lewton, and perhaps just glossy enough to engage Kerr's fans. ** from ****

I watched this last night and I have to say that it was a fun way to spend 90 minutes. The storyline was zany and I thought that the actors did a good job with what they had to work with. Of course, Deborah Kerr, the reason I even watched this, was lovely and fun to watch. It shows that she was having a good time with this role. Some of her amused facial expressions seemed absolutely genuine. The three men in hot pursuit of Miss Kirbe were amusing and easy on the eyes. James Whitmore is the one who really stood out for me. There was one moment with him that just tickled me to no end. I thought that he looked like a funnier version of Spencer Tracy.

This was #40 in my quest to view all of Deborah Kerr movies and I found it worth the effort. It was nice to see her in a comedy even if it was lightweight. It still confirms that she never phoned in a performance even if the role wasn't "Oscar worthy". This is one that I'm sure that I will watch again.

In London, Alison Kirbe (Deborah Kerr) receives news that she has inherited a gigantic cattle ranch in Texas from old Hank whom she befriended during the war. The newspaper proclaims her to be a new heiress. In reality, Hank was prown to tall tales and his will is no exception. Alison boards a ship to American and is followed by some men with an eye for her. Terence Keath is an indebted gambler looking to steal her fortune. Vincent Maran (James Whitmore) is watching over him for his boss Lucky Reilly who owns Terence's papers. Rich bachelor Jeremy Tayler is traveling with his lawyer Matthew Kinston who is suspicious of Alison.

The funniest scene is probably the group of old men reading old Hank's will. I love the donkey. The whole section is deadpan hilarity. The rest of the movie is a bit bland. I don't know if Kerr has any comedic chops. She shows a bit of it here or there but she needs to be so much more wackier. The writing doesn't give her enough telephone poles to help her get there. The guys do have some fun at times. Whitmore comes the closest with his constant frustration. It's light. It's harmless. It's nearly funny.

What superb direction -- and please, hard as it is, believe this is the same Norman Taurog that basted more Elvis Presley turkeys than any other director. Here, Taurog is the star, slowed down only by an uneven cast and a script that creaked in a couple of places as it flexed its plot. Deborah Kerr is supreme, though, as the sentimental English poppy who is tricked up and down until she buckles on her sound, common sense English ingenuity and carries the day. And she had some carrying to do: co-star Mark Stevens is pure avoirdupois with no sense of the camera. Nice jackets, though. Peter Lawford is perfect as the rich guy with a sense of fun, flaunting his sleek biceps and slim waist in a swimming pool scene he steals with aplomb. The script is a beaut, too, but the way Taurog fills each scene with exposition and shtick is a joy to behold. The lighting is highly skilled 40s workmanship. And check the roulette scene for b/w colour play. But the scene that is all Seven Wonders of Hollywood script- writing rolled into one is the showdown in gangster Quinn's office. Unbeatable for its half a dozen plot twists inside three minutes. Believe me.