This early Anthony Mann film starts off most promisingly with tracking shots in the lecture theatre (of the Mindred Lord Institute yet!), mirror shots in the laboratory and a marvelous overhead shot of a flashing hotel neon sign and George Chandler sitting on a fire hydrant on the pavement below. After another wonderful mirror shot in Brenda Marshall's apartment, she and William Gargan walk on to the balcony and it is at this point that the film begins to fall apart. The script takes on the plotting and dialogue of some stupid dime-store novelette for mentally backward adolescents and the direction becomes astonishingly routine, with long, static takes and interminable close-ups and two-shots of the unattractive principals (even Hillary Brooke looks unattractive in the costumes, make-up and lighting of this film). The mirror motif is lost sight of altogether, until just before the plastic surgery sequence when the film comes to life for a few more moments (the table lamp lighting Marshall's face from below, the struggle, the escape, the surgery), wanes for a stretch, surges to life for a few more moments (the interrogation) and then is extinguished forever by a poor conclusion. Brenda Marshall brings little distinction to her dual role, Miss Brooke is not much better and Gargan is about as welcome as rain at a school picnic. The support cast, headed by George Chandler of all people, is more interesting.

Plot-- After restorative surgery, a disfigured research scientist tries to regain her former status under an assumed identity. And that's despite a scheming rival, an unethical lawyer, and a blackmailing vixen. About two-thirds of the way through and I was boggling at the implausibles. Okay, I'm usually pretty indulgent about these things; after all, Hollywood itself is pretty implausible. But then came the ending and all the stretches suddenly made weird sense. Not that this is a good film. It's just a programmer from cowboy-oriented Republic that RKO's noir unit might have made memorable. Then too, I agree with reviewer robert temple: why would two attractive women connive over a lump like William Gargan's Dr. Lindstrom. If there was a subtle point being made, I guess I missed it. Instead, it looks like a glaring piece of miscasting.What the 60-minutes does have is a fine central performance from Brenda Marshall as the afflicted Nora. But most of all, it's a chance for the Hillary Brooke fan club to watch a favorite spider women do her thing. Catch the way her eyes suddenly reveal a hidden inner demeanor. That subtle inner dimension is crucial here, but as the expert actress knows, not to be overdone. Yet, why is she missing from that final scene. Her presence there would seem required in order to complete the circuit with the pivotal earlier scene. But since when did Golden Age Hollywood compromise their blissful fade-outs, regardless of logic. Anyway, I expect a few years later with a more seasoned Anthony Mann and a more appropriate studio, the idea could have achieved genuine noir status.

They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. What if they are one and the same? Just ask scientist Nora Goodrich (Brenda Marshall, in real life Mrs. William Holden). She is conducting an experiment with her assistant/friend Arline (Hillary Brooke), but Arline is after Nora's fiancé (William Gargan), a successful doctor. While Nora is out from anesthetic, which is part of a grand experiment -oops, a fire starts in a beaker, thanks to Arline loading it up, and Nora's face is burned and scarred. While she's recovering in the hospital, Arline fixes it so that the fiancé thinks that Nora doesn't want to see him; meanwhile, Nora is wondering why he isn't coming by. Then an unfortunate accident in her apartment causes Nora to get plastic surgery - but with a brand-new face and a name to go with it.This is kind of a fun B movie with an interesting cast that includes William Gargan as the object of Nora's and Arline's affections -- bad casting -- the role needed a good-looking B film lead like Jeffrey Lynn or Richard Carlson. H.B. Warner, Jesus in the original King of Kings, plays a plastic surgeon, and Ruth Ford, Mrs. Zachary Scott, plays one Jane Karaski, who is important to the plot.Economically directed by Anthony Mann, this is a pretty good film with a gigantic twist at the end, one that was actually used in a couple of other films. Not the best but satisfying nonetheless.Don't look for lovely cinematography, camera angles, unusual sets, great clothes, or anything like that - this movie comes to you from Republic Studios.

This film's chief recommendation is a superb performance by Hilary Brooke, who plays a mini-Iago, a woman so unremittingly wicked, scheming and grasping that Brooke's intense portrayal of her should really have been lifted from this B picture and inserted into an A picture. The film's main weakness is this: primarily, the entire plot depends on two women (Brenda Marshall and Hilary Brooke) being so infatuated with the leading man that they will stop at nothing to 'have him', but the casting for that part is William Gargan, who is wholly ludicrous. No one would 'have to have' Gargan, who is goofy-looking, weak, altogether lacking in any semblance of romantic charm, and frankly just a joke in the part. Two women fighting to the death over that blob of vaseline is ridiculous. The other fatal weakness to this film is an appalling plot development towards the end, which I shall refrain from revealing, but it is terminal to taking this film seriously. How could Anthony Mann have directed such an inferior work when only two years later he would produce the masterpiece 'Raw Deal' (1948)? It all goes to show that with a weak script and a hopeless leading man, everything can readily collapse into a heap of rubble. This film could have been something, but for reasons which we will never know, it was gutted from within. After all, the basic plot is strong and powerful if it had been allowed to happen without interference, and with the right leading man to make it believable. What a missed opportunity this was!