An occasional producer/director, William Marshall had more talent for marrying movie stars (Ginger Rogers, Michele Morgan, this film’s Micheline Presle) than for making movies. While Errol Flynn, who co-stars with Presle, takes credit for a script that’s bad enough to make you believe he actually wrote it. (Still in demand at major studios, the writing credit probably explains his presence.) Presle’s a saucy house servant in old New Orleans who’ll do anything to scale the social ladder; Flynn’s an independent ship’s captain who helps her beat a trumped up murder charge. He even blackmails her old house boss, Vincent Price, to get her set up in business. Not that she’s grateful, instead, going back to Price for the social position. (Not too much adds up in this one.) For a climax, Flynn gets jailed for another murder, but Presle’s companion (Agnes Moorehead in constantly changing make-up) starts a town riot that settles just enough issues to end this thing. Don’t be fooled by the tasty title, Flynn’s more phlegmatic than adventurous. But if you do stumble upon it, note the exceedingly odd technical work on the soundstage shipyards.
SCREWY THOUGHT OF THE DAY: The one interesting thing in here is the manner in which Flynn is constantly flattened by his female lead. Odd as movie material, but great fodder for a psychiatrist’s couch.