The River's Edge (1957, Allan Dwan) (Patreon)

56/100

My first note reads simply "skin tones," which gets me into dicey territory since I don't see colors the way that most people do and so can't trust my sense of what's chromatically striking. Then again, why should that aspect be less subjective than anything else? Whether despite or due to my  defective L-cone, I found The River's Edge deliciously DeLuxe, became more photochemically focused than usual (which did no favors at all for the next movie that I happened to see, which was seemingly calibrated for maximum bland glassiness), had trouble bringing myself to give a damn about whether Meg would wind up choosing the stolid farmer or the charming psychopath. Dwan's basically an unknown quantity to me—I'd previously seen only The Iron Mask, made during the silent era—and I'll be curious to see whether this film's apparent contempt for sentiment is or isn't typical; while it's clear which man we're meant to admire, there's a distinct "I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints" undertone throughout (might just be my Anthony Quinn allergy talking), and nobody seems terribly invested in the emotional credibility of a climactic switcheroo. Milland sometimes comes across as more bored than callous, but that sorta works for the role. Fellas: looking to impress your lady friend? Try burning $100,000 in cash (it's actually $10K; I'm adjusting for inflation) just to keep her warm. Helps if your chief rival keeps murdering people in cold blood but is constrained, at least for the moment, from murdering you. Also, barrel chest.