Tuesday, April 9, 2019

Joseph H. Lewis' MY NAME IS JULIA ROSS (1945)


So tight and closely woven is this plot,
Which we, the viewers, know of all along,
That just an hour wraps it on the dot.
Such Gothic trappings seem a little wrong
When played out in a proto-noir disguise --
A lovely woman, kidnapped on a ruse,
Is gaslighted and can't enjoy the prize
Of Cornish seascapes many, sure, would choose
To see each morning from the windowsill
Of one's great sumptuous bedroom. Watch her stress!
Her mocked suspicions! Held against her will
And called another name! I must confess
The expositions of the evil plan
Got silly, but I still might be a fan.

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