Shed No Tears

A shrewd woman helps her husband fake his death to collect life insurance. He plans on them running away together to live the high life. What he doesn't know is that she has a life of her own.

She certainly shed no tears, not even when her lover was murdered. Even less she shed any tears at the loss of her first husband, but didn't he tell her explicitly, when they met for the last time, to shed no tears? She looks very much like Ann Todd in this film, callous, calculating, ruthless and merciless, a shrewd beautiful woman at her most irresistible, and her husband really loves her, as does her lover, while it's hard to believe that she could love anyone. All she has is her beauty, all the rest is fraud and deceit. It's a very well written story, the dialog is terrific, and the detective (Johnstone. White) provides all the matchless eloquence. It's a messy story, and what a mess it will be to sort out afterwards, while at least one got out of it alive. It all starts with a fire and someone falling out of the window irrecognizable for his burns, and the end is perfectly logical. It's not a great film, but it is worth watching indeed for its very crooked tale.

Wallace Ford fakes his death in a hotel room fire. He hooks up with his much younger wife (who came up with the idea of the deception), June Vincent, and together they plan on bilking the insurance company for the payoff of 50 grand which will reunite them once she collects. She watches as he gets on the bus, then meets her boyfriend in the parking lot and they talk of how they're going to spend the money.

All this happens in the first ten minutes or so - there's no fat on this baby.

But meanwhile, Ford's son thinks that something is amiss, he thinks that Vincent killed Ford herself and he hires an investigator to prove it. This is where things really start perking as the Clifton Webb-like sleuth, played wonderfully by Johnstone White, soon figures out what's going on and he starts playing the supposed widow and the son against each other as well as Ford himself who comes back to town and discovers his wife in a clinch with her boyfriend.

But wait - there's still more but you're going to have to find out for yourself. Jean Yarbrough, veteran of just about every kind of movie and TV genre, manages to keep one's interest despite a lack of noirish touches. It's likely that he had to get this done in a week or so, so there wasn't any time for complicated camera set-ups. The story here is the main thing, you probably will not be disappointed.

The 1948 book's dust jacket states: "Using a brutal pen, Don Martin (the author) has etched a novel-sized portrait of EDNA, a woman without heart or conscience. Edna has only glands, greed and beauty.... It is an earthy, sordid story which must occasionally become indelicate. It is a book to be admired or loathed". Indeed, the icy if slightly 2-dimensional femme fatale (June Vincent) is the central character here who schemes to get her way no matter what, while those around her seek to either investigate or thwart her plans. Fast-paced and twisted (perverted even for a moment or two), her schemes start to unravel and she flails around to try to save what she can. The movie also features a certain detective, an overly verbose, oily and clever maneuverer who gets caught up in the cogs of the plot only to start to pull the levers somewhat himself (while also providing some subtle humour). Keeps you holding on till the end as June Vincent gives a great (if minor) performance as the spiky, brittle, shallow and depraved Edna. Distributed by the short-lived Eagle-Lion Films, whose roster of other B-noirs are also worth a look (e.g. T-Men 1947) - see Wikipedia or the IMDB page for a list.

Wallace Ford fakes his own death and heads off to Washington until his wife, June Vincent, can can collect his insurance. Then they'll be off to Mexico to enjoy the money. Ford doesn't know that Vincent has a chiseling boyfriend. While the police agree it looks like an accident, the insurance company wants to investigate. Ford's son, Dick Hogan, thinks it looks suspicious and hires P. I. Johnstone White. White proceeds to play every side for profit.

Director Jean Yarborough has gotten his hands on a nice script by Brown Holmes, Virginia M. Cooke and Don Martin, Unfortunately, what could have been a noir with a mordant comedy turn in the Johnstone role (think of Laughton in THE BRIBE) turns out to be a competent turn by some decent performers; it demonstrates why none of them got out of the B movies. The question is never a matter of what the player will do next, nor how skilled cameraman Frank Redman will shoot this particular shot. Instead, it becomes a matter of wondering where this fascinating script will lead these characters.