This is the one in which Vera Miles, as the head honcho of a tony cosmetics corporation, bashes in the head of subordinate Michael Sheen who has falsified the results of an experiment in such a way that he now has sole possession of the secret formula of a skin cream that will remove wrinkles.
Enter Columbo, the paragon of sartoriality, into the women's world of haute couture and expensive fat farms where they practice "body realization" and nude sunbathing. He stumbles around and catches poison ivy before unraveling the case with an intuition that is supernatural in its magnitude.
I don't know why, when Vera Miles discovered that Sheen had cooked the books and was going to blackmail her into making him a partner in the firm, she just didn't go to the cops instead of braining him. After all, stealing a secret wrinkle remover while in the employ of the corporation is stealing property that is rightly theirs, not to mention the blackmail that is extortion, a felony.
There's some comedy, but not that much, and not that much teasing repartee between Miles and Peter Falk. Sheen isn't around long. Sian Barbara Allen has more screen time and she uses it pretty well, even adding a suggestion of the kind of love that dare not speak its name in her devotion to Miles. Allen has a most idiosyncratic face. Not unattractive in any way, but slightly askew. Vincent Price is always good to see on the screen. He doesn't get to use his considerable flair for comedy in this relatively straight part of Miles' competitor in the cosmetics business. Price and Miles, though, do have one delicious exchange. They are business rivals. Miles hates Price. And, at a party, she greets him with a compliment, "Why, David, what a lovely hairpiece." You can tell the story was written by Myrna Bercovici because no man could possibly dream up such a line.
If you like this sort of thing, as I do, you probably should catch it. It's up there with the other mainstream entries.
Enter Columbo, the paragon of sartoriality, into the women's world of haute couture and expensive fat farms where they practice "body realization" and nude sunbathing. He stumbles around and catches poison ivy before unraveling the case with an intuition that is supernatural in its magnitude.
I don't know why, when Vera Miles discovered that Sheen had cooked the books and was going to blackmail her into making him a partner in the firm, she just didn't go to the cops instead of braining him. After all, stealing a secret wrinkle remover while in the employ of the corporation is stealing property that is rightly theirs, not to mention the blackmail that is extortion, a felony.
There's some comedy, but not that much, and not that much teasing repartee between Miles and Peter Falk. Sheen isn't around long. Sian Barbara Allen has more screen time and she uses it pretty well, even adding a suggestion of the kind of love that dare not speak its name in her devotion to Miles. Allen has a most idiosyncratic face. Not unattractive in any way, but slightly askew. Vincent Price is always good to see on the screen. He doesn't get to use his considerable flair for comedy in this relatively straight part of Miles' competitor in the cosmetics business. Price and Miles, though, do have one delicious exchange. They are business rivals. Miles hates Price. And, at a party, she greets him with a compliment, "Why, David, what a lovely hairpiece." You can tell the story was written by Myrna Bercovici because no man could possibly dream up such a line.
If you like this sort of thing, as I do, you probably should catch it. It's up there with the other mainstream entries.