This paradoxical stew of a movie from master chef Otto Preminger uncharacteristically suffers from both blandness (ie undue sanitization) and too much flavor (ie melodrama). It seems that while Preminger was successful in his efforts to fight the censors on the scenes of heroin usage he was not as fortunate when it came to depicting the language of drug addicts as taken from a Nelson Algren novel. Imagine an adaptation of a work by, say, Bukowski, who is Algren transposed to 70s LA, without a single four letter word more visceral than "fink" and you have some idea of how the Hays Office boys were able to exact their revenge for the drug stuff. And as for the scenery chewing and over the top-ness it starts with Elmer Bernstein's too florid score (also highly unusual) and continues with Eleanor Parker's eye popping and mouth agape histrionics (along with her faux middle Europa accent) and Arnold Stang's annoying caricature of a whiny sycophant and reaches its apogee in the withdrawal scene with Sinatra clutching his guts and doing what all actors deep down in their hearts unless they're Spencer Tracy or James Stewart want to do and will do unless held in check by the director and that is scream. Actually, the withdrawal scene is kind of ironic in that for most of the film Sinatra delivers a rather effective, low key performance that is, in my opinion, the best reason to stick with this overlong, somewhat cheesy (back lot sets that look like a high school production of "Street Scene") movie. C plus.
Review of The Man with the Golden Arm
