Uma Vida por um Fio

An expanded radio play and subsequent TV drama, this film builds terrific tension around a bedridden heiress and her telephone.

Sympathy builds for this unlikeable woman, Leona, played by Barbara Stanwyck. She is a spoiled heiress used to getting her own way, but as we come to see, very much created by her father (played by Ed Begley) who bows to all her wishes.

Her husband, Henry, played by Burt Lancaster, whom she chases and captures from her best friend, initially goes along with being an employee in her father's corporation but eventually starts chafing at the restraints imposed on him.

The movie just about plays in real time with the addition of many flashbacks, one of which secures the knowledge that there is nothing wrong with Leona, it is all psychosomatic based on her mother's fatal illness.

From the moment Leona accidentally overhears a plotted murder for later on that evening, the viewer is taken on a ride that builds suspense and tension to a terrifying conclusion and the movie's title.

Not to be missed. The cinematography is superb, a lot of play in light and shade. Barbara deserved an Oscar but lost. 8 out of 10.

Sorry, but 'Sorry, Wrong Number' loses a lot in its transition to the screen. For one thing, there are too many flabby flashbacks--a form quite popular in the '40s but used extensively in this film, ad nauseum. All of the suspenseful action in the bedroom of the bedridden victim is held at bay while we watch another endless flashback attempting to show us how selfish and unworthy this woman is. If you heard the original radio drama with Agnes Moorehead giving a spine-chilling portrait of Leona, you'll see why the film becomes too diffuse in an attempt to give us "filler material". The fact that Lucille Fletcher adapted her own work for the screen would give the viewer hope that this is going to be just as good as the radio drama--but it's not. Barbara Stanwyck gives an excellent performance, bordering on hysteria toward the finale--but it's an actressy performance and not as controlled as some of her other film noir roles. Burt Lancaster has a colorless role and can't do much with it. Ann Richards is impressive as the woman who tries to warn Leona. By expanding the plot outside the bedroom, Fletcher created a confusing number of sub-plots that simply take away from the tension. Too much padding actually hurts the film. Anatole Litvak's direction is strong--but not strong enough to put the film on the same level with the classic radio drama. The plot is overcomplicated to the nth degree.

Trivia note: The only other film with such heavy use of flashbacks to tell a complicated story is THE LOCKET ('47), but it was done more efficiently than it is here.

Alfred Hitchcock himself praised this movie that was for him one of Barbara Stanwyck's most extraordinary parts.Besides,he did include Lucille Fletcher's short novel in his anthology "stories not for the nervous"(sic)

The story of this woman in her bed,who has heard on the phone someone is in danger,and who little by little discovers the horrible truth,is a first-class screen play which requires the viewer's attention,,or else he may lose the vital lead.The first people who enjoyed it had no pictures,since it was originally a radio broadcast,so they had to show a lot of imagination.The movie remains talky but the numerous flashbacks give it substance.The phone,is along with Stanwyck ,the star of Litvak's work;Burt Lancaster,a great actor though,only serves as a foil to both of them.50% of the dialogue consists of phone calls,that's what makes this thriller unique.

A strong connection with Hitchcock's work is the father's part(Ed Bigley).He is some equivalent of the Mother in many movies of his.The stuffed animals in his desirable mansion are a symbol of his daughter's lifelessness.(Coincidence?There will be such hunting trophies (and more) in his "psycho" twelve years later,and the topic is present in "the man who knew too much"(2nd version))

If you are fond of suspense,this is an unqualified must!

Heck of a thriller, though the narrative is difficult to piece together at times. Stanwyck gets to run through a gamut of hysterical emotions as the intended victim. Her Leona is not particularly likable as the rich man's daughter who gets her way by bullying people around her. So there's some rough justice in her predicament—alone, disabled and dependent on the phone while a killer seemingly stalks her. Even the independent working-man, a studly Henry (Lancaster), is bullied into taking up with her. Of course, it doesn't hurt that she's got scads of money to assist her schemes. Incidentally, catch how Henry's several capitulations to others (Leona, Morano) are marked by allowing them to light his cigarette. Nice touch.

The idea of only gradually revealing why Leona is being set up for murder is a good one. It adds to the suspense—not just a 'when' but also a 'why'. The trouble is the disclosure is only revealed in pieces over the phone using flashbacks, and these are hard to piece together over a stretch of time. But enough comes through that we get the idea. There's some great noir photography from Sol Polito that really adds to the tense atmosphere. Anyhow, it's a great premise that also played well over the radio that I recall as a kid. It's also a subtle irony that one could end up being so alone in the middle of a great city. Poor Leona, maybe if she had been a little nicer and less bossy over the phone, she might have made the human connection she needed.

Barbara Stanwyck is marvellous! Although she's a rather unlikeable character, she thoroughly captivates your emotions. She drags you completely into her nightmare - you can't look away and like a real nightmare, the sense of not being in control is chillingly real.

Apart from the flashbacks, which epitomise the film noir tropes of the late forties, this film is Barbara Stanwyck alone and scared and trapped in her trappings of wealth. She's confined in the physical and mental luxury jail cell she's made for herself. It's an exceptional performance of a woman in despair driven to the edge, of knowing something awful is about to happen but not being able to do anything about it. It's a perfect example of how a film can stretch out tension and suspense tighter and more intense with each passing minute.

And I also loved it when in one of the flashbacks, Fred shouts to his wife: Hey Sally, Joe wants a bottle of beer and she obligingly dashes out to the shop: oh how 1940s!