Let me mildly dissent from the majority of my fellow IMDBers below in mildly praising this good but not great film that is not content to be simply a solid noir with a beautiful, sensually decadent femme fatale and interestingly set at the height (or depths, depending on the depth of your antifa leanings), of Franco's Spain, but instead needs to show off its intellectual cred by going all "Crime And Punishment" on us with the attendant soul searching, breast beating and philosophizing which is bearable when Dostoevsky does it, 'cause he's a friggin GENIUS, but is a bit of a bore when essayed by Juan Antonio Bardem, who is not. Give it a B minus.
Review of Death of a Cyclist
