Allarme polizia!

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!

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.

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.