Hollywood was still at the height of the "women's films" with stars like Bette Davis and Miriam Hopkins sharing the screen in stories with romantic notions. This one is pure soap suds, but just try to look away when these two real-life enemies share the close-ups.
The two portray authors--one a sensitive, thoughtful woman (Bette Davis), the other a shrewish housewife who writes pulp fiction (Miriam Hopkins). The two share the ups and downs of a rocky relationship when the lesser writer becomes famous for her trash and loses her ignored husband (John Loder). A very young Gig Young provides some romantic interest for Davis--until she sensibly concludes that he is too young for her. At the end, the two women are left facing middle-age together and, as they sit before a roaring fireplace, toast each other to the fadeout strains of Franz Waxman's music.
All of this plays like a Cosmopolitan magazine story of the '40s but is made to seem intelligent and likeable by the sheer magnetism of Bette Davis and Miriam Hopkins, never better than here. Hopkins sinks her teeth into the role of a nasty bitch--and Davis is unusually even-tempered until the scene where she shakes the living daylights out of Hopkins.
Forget the 1982 remake directed by George Cukor--like most remakes, it lacked the ingredients that made the original such a treat.
The two portray authors--one a sensitive, thoughtful woman (Bette Davis), the other a shrewish housewife who writes pulp fiction (Miriam Hopkins). The two share the ups and downs of a rocky relationship when the lesser writer becomes famous for her trash and loses her ignored husband (John Loder). A very young Gig Young provides some romantic interest for Davis--until she sensibly concludes that he is too young for her. At the end, the two women are left facing middle-age together and, as they sit before a roaring fireplace, toast each other to the fadeout strains of Franz Waxman's music.
All of this plays like a Cosmopolitan magazine story of the '40s but is made to seem intelligent and likeable by the sheer magnetism of Bette Davis and Miriam Hopkins, never better than here. Hopkins sinks her teeth into the role of a nasty bitch--and Davis is unusually even-tempered until the scene where she shakes the living daylights out of Hopkins.
Forget the 1982 remake directed by George Cukor--like most remakes, it lacked the ingredients that made the original such a treat.