Somewhat formulaic 'tec thriller from the mid 70's with getting-on-a-bit Paul Newman reprising his Harper PI role to investigate the rich, Southern, dysfunctional family into which an old flame of his has married and recently been subject to blackmail letters.
Harper's investigations uncover, as you might expect, all manner of intrigues as skeletons start falling out of closets with increasing regularity and naturally individuals keep getting bumped off at periodic intervals. Don't try too hard to keep up with the convoluted plot which probably reads better in a chunky paperback than it plays on the wide screen and enjoy instead Gordon Willis' excellent cinematography and Newman strolling through a part he could obviously play in his sleep.
At times, it seems no better than those adult detective tales Frank Sinatra took on in the late 60's or even an above average episode of say, "The Rockford Files" or "Harry O" from its TV contemporaries, but it does save itself for a big finish, where Newman and the big bad murderous oil baron's disaffected wife reduce themselves to their underwear to effect an 11th hour escape from the drowning pool of the title.
Other minor points of note include obviously a young Melanie Griffith playing the slatternly teenage daughter just a bit too gauchely and just count the number of times the classic "Killing Me Softly With His Song" appears on the soundtrack, well and truly done to death, to continue the metaphor (I didn't care for the odd Dixie-themed music which backdropped the rest of the film either).
Harper's investigations uncover, as you might expect, all manner of intrigues as skeletons start falling out of closets with increasing regularity and naturally individuals keep getting bumped off at periodic intervals. Don't try too hard to keep up with the convoluted plot which probably reads better in a chunky paperback than it plays on the wide screen and enjoy instead Gordon Willis' excellent cinematography and Newman strolling through a part he could obviously play in his sleep.
At times, it seems no better than those adult detective tales Frank Sinatra took on in the late 60's or even an above average episode of say, "The Rockford Files" or "Harry O" from its TV contemporaries, but it does save itself for a big finish, where Newman and the big bad murderous oil baron's disaffected wife reduce themselves to their underwear to effect an 11th hour escape from the drowning pool of the title.
Other minor points of note include obviously a young Melanie Griffith playing the slatternly teenage daughter just a bit too gauchely and just count the number of times the classic "Killing Me Softly With His Song" appears on the soundtrack, well and truly done to death, to continue the metaphor (I didn't care for the odd Dixie-themed music which backdropped the rest of the film either).