This film is one of the favorite memories from my childhood. My memory said that Sal Mineo was in it, so I was a little surprised to see that it was actually James Darren. Not as good an actor as Sal, but a good looking kid, who could sing. Shelley Winters is beautiful in it, but very needy. Ella is a bonus. Burl Ives is bigger than life. And, you get to see Ricardo Montalban as a pre Mr. Roarke, pre Chrysler New Yorker ("Fine Corinthian leather"), bad guy. The climatic finale has stayed with me all these years. I always thought it was an older movie, but I guess it was just the genre and the cinematography. A little hokey, by today's standards, but a classic none the same.
Review of Let No Man Write My Epitaph
