This newly restored print of a tough nail-biter of a noir finds a middle-aged but still fiery Joan Crawford having successfully rebounded from her “box office poison” years but still some years away from her desperate “hagsploitation” phase of Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? In 1952’s Sudden Fear Crawford plays a successful San Francisco playwright Myra Hudson, who also happens to be an heiress who’s loaded beyond the dreams of avarice. As the film opens, we find Myra presiding over a rehearsal of her latest syrupy stage melodrama, expressing to the director her dislike of the leading man, Lester Blaine, a young up-and-coming actor (played masterfully by young up-and-coming actor Jack Palance), which ends in the struggling Lester getting summarily booted off the production. After what seems at first to be a chance meeting on a train, Lester and the wealthy playwright suddenly (and believably) hit it off romantically. Next thing you know, Lester and Myra are off to Frisco to paint the town red, seemingly in the salad days of a passionate relationship. But Lester turns out to be a better actor than Myra gives him credit for—yes, it’s all a cruel stitch-up. Lester and his real gal pal Irene (sexy wisecracker Gloria Grahame) have a just-so-crazy-it-might-work plan in which Lester marries Myra then sees to it that she dies an “accidental” death: Lester would then stand to inherit Myra’s millions.
And for a while, it looks like Lester’s Oscar-worthy performance as a loving husband just might work, except for one big, stupid blunder: while Myra’s out one day, Lester and his co-conspirator spill the beans of their elaborate hoax while in Myra’s living room—with all their murderous machinations caught on a trusty Dictaphone contraption that Myra accidentally kept running. The film’s pace quickens considerably once Myra plays back the recording and is subjected to the gut-wrenching reality of her relationship with Lester (then she clumsily drops the vinyl disc with the recorded conversation, and it breaks into a million pieces—a facile but necessary plot point). Then, of course, it’s Myra’s turn to play the role of her life—and the tension ratchets up to flop-sweat levels.
Crawford’s face becomes as expressive as ever, covering an astonishing range of emotions purely through physiognomic gesture. Myra now has to keep her cool and keep up appearances with Lester until she can somehow unravel his elaborate plan to kill her. And sure, you’ve got plenty of far-fetched coincidences keeping the plot engine humming throughout. But this doesn’t take away from first-rate performances by Crawford, Palance, Grahame, not to mention the stellar casting of the naturally noirish roller-coaster streets of San Francisco, perfectly capturing the city with foreboding but exquisite shades of black-and-white cinematographic magic. Highly Recommended.