Great title, great film. With all those accents, even if the cast of Martin Ritt's first film in colour were talking in whispers they'd sound as if they're hamming. Probably the best performance comes from an appealing young Joanne Woodward, although they all naturally loose hands down to the maestro Orson Welles in dominating the screen (even whose clothes - including a bright red dressing gown initialled with a big letter 'V' and a top pocket full of cigars - look as if they're overacting).
Review of The Long, Hot Summer
