M. J Arocena I think the word to describe it is "unbelievable". Peter Finch is in it, an actor known for being rather picky. He was to win an Oscar for "Network" I wonder what this movie looked on paper. Robert Aldrich won his dues with films like "Attack", "The Big Knife" even "Whatever Happened To Baby Jane" another camp fest but with a brain and a real intention. Here, everything is in top gear without ever really moving. In short, a mystery. Poor Kim Novak. Even her make-up doesn't make any sense. Pale lips. It's pointless for me to go on, you have to see it. I had the chance, thanks to Turner Classic Movies. Kim Novak's character seems to be possessed by the spirit of Lylah Clare, the doomed star she's suppose to to play in a preposterous movie about her life. When she is under the influence of the spirit, she laughs and talks with the grave tones of a hybrid, part Lotte Lenya part Mercedes MacCambridge. Outrageous! Peter Finch playing the director and one of the former Lylah's lovers creates a monster without nuances. His debate with the studio head, played loudly by Ernest Borgnine, about films vs movies seems to be Aldrich's major preoccupation. Valentina Cortese's costume designer is a very brief delight, Rosella Falk's lesbian is in unintentional hoot but the prize goes to Coral Browne, playing a columnist as if she were Catherine The Great and with a wooden leg. I swear I'm not joking. As yo may very well suspect, I think this is one of the worst films I've ever seen and yes, I had a lot of fun. That's why a 5 out of 10 seem fair to me.

macpet49-1 This film truly marked the end of Kim Novak's career. Unfortunately, I think it was a combination things--the end of the studios, the end of the Hollywood dream era and the end of any kind of illusion of naivete in America at that time. The Kennedys, King assassinations, Vietnam. The bubble had burst. The films of this time when good were brutal and realistic and negative. The films that were bad were bloody, carnal and usually sadistic/masochistic in new ways for film. Sex was for the first time visual. Soft porn in PG rated films wasn't unusual. A breast of butt shot was the norm for most films. Lylah/Kim becomes the epidomy of the Hollywood actor--a confabulated doll, puppet really, who generates dollars at the box office and is of no importance to the studios than the money it receives. Follow the money. Money grubbing marked the end of any art able to be produced. The Jewish maxim "it's only business" ruled. You can snuff people on screen live and it is just what you do to get bread. This is a poorly written film, but does mark in a perverted (appropriately) way the beginning of the end of the dream of what film could be. The 1960s was both the apex and death of culture and civilization. We are now living in the decline period. All film produced now is either voyueristic or masturbatory.

beyondtheforest It's flawed, yes. It's too long, too slow, and some of the lines and situations are just incomprehensible. On the other hand, its daring in a way most films are not. It dares you to think, imagine, and just relish in the glory if this fictionally great old star. The character of Lylah Clare is based on what seems to be an amalgamation of 1930s icons, not the least of which may include Crawford, Bankhead, Dietrich, Garbo, and Harlow. Then again, she is her own creation. A great subplot concerns the battle of the studio for money-making films and the battle of the director for art. As Ernest Borgnine as the studio head says in one scene, "I don't want to make films. I want to make movies. What do you think we're making here, art?" Kim Novak is well cast and turns in a surprising star turn in a double role, as Lylah Clare and the actress who plays her in a biopic helmed by her late director and husband. The story behind Lylah's death is mysterious and the stuff of legend. Only the director, eager to make a comeback after a 20 year absence from films, seems to know the truth about what happened to Lylah, and he is silent. There are two other superb subplots to the film: one concerns the actress and her possession by the spirit of the late Lylah Clare, and the other subplot concerns the romance between the actress and the director.The end is shocking. You might not see the eventual conclusion coming. There is terrific symbolism in the dog food advertisement at the end of the film, and the score by DeVol is appropriately lush and atmospheric.Some of the performances are a bit stilted, as is some of the camera work. The costumes are not always historically correct, but are fetching just the same. The direction is hit-or-miss. The film is way too slow. What holds the film together is the fascinating story and Aldrich's ambition in telling it. He doesn't stop with Lylah's death, but goes on to make a broad and cynical statement about the whole movie industry as a whole. Notice how, when the Lylah's director finally has something deep and heartfelt to say to the reporter, he is cut off. And for what? A dog food commercial. Get it? Aldrich excelled at dark Hollywood portraits, and this is one of the most intriguing and controversial. No wonder it's so hard to find.

Neil Doyle KIM NOVAK's screen career came to an abrupt halt after this disaster and it's easy to see why. Despite direction from Robert Aldrich (who was experienced at camp classics), this one is so incredibly off the mark as believable entertainment that it's no wonder it has the reputation that puts it in the same class with horrors like VALLEY OF THE DOLLS. Bad dialog and a dull script are a fatal combination.PETER FINCH is the has-been director who fashions a model (Novak) into the image of his dead wife in order to do a screen bio of the woman. (Shades of VERTIGO with Stewart doing the same to Novak). But execution of this plot is so staggeringly inept, with performances either over-the-top (Finch and ERNEST BORGNINE) or extremely underplayed by Novak who seems to be sleepwalking through most of the film.The dialog is priceless. After someone breaks a window in Peter Finch's living room he calmly says: "I take it you're trying to capture my attention." And even then, it takes the man endless pages of dialog to get to the point. VALENTINA CORTESE is lucky in that most of her dialog is buried beneath a thick accent--and she's supposed to have been Lylah's dialog coach.Too much exposition destroys whatever pace the film might have had. Endless talk about Lylah and her background, as well as aspiring actress Novak, before she even appears. And when she does appear, the plot becomes even more absurd with Novak suddenly assuming a German accent when Lylah's personality overtakes her. Ridiculous.Another example of a behind-the-scenes lowdown on Hollywood that has no credibility whatsoever--a mess of a film from beginning to end, though the story idea itself had potential. Even deVol's music does nothing to establish mood or atmosphere. Ironically, the film within a film that director Finch has been shooting, is every bit as bad as the main story and yet when the film is released, it's supposed to be the director's masterpiece. Too bad life couldn't imitate art, in the case of Aldrich's film.Summing up: Do yourself a favor and skip this one.