User reviews

Mary Beth Hughes and Hugh Beaumont are scheduled to be married as soon as his wife, missing seven years, can be declared dead. Then she shows up at Miss Hughes' apartment, says she's never going to give Beaumont a divorce. That evening she is strangled. Everyone seems to have a fine alibi, but nightclub owner Edmund MacDonald won't admit to seeing Beaumont at his club, even though three other people did.

Film Noir was a genre made for PRC, the cheapest of Poverty Row producers. It required fewer lights, the inevitable Venetian blinds meant there were no views outside windows to show, non-star actors were cheap, and the director of this one, Sam Newfield, although certainly competent, was the brother of PRC's studio chief. Jack Greenhalgh was a skilled cinematographer, so that left the problem of a script, and that was where PRC usually came up short.

Helen Martin's screenplay doesn't show a lack here. I couldn't figure out whodunnit until they told me, and the main actors are good. It's no classic, but I certainly enjoyed it.

Okay, not much can be expected from quickie director Sam Newfield or an independent outfit like Alexander-Stern. Then too, the production never does rise above bare-bones status. However, the script does show imaginative twists plus dashes of snappy dialog. In short, the 60- minutes manages to be better than expected, even if the lighting bill couldn't exceed a buck fifty. So who killed meanie wife Norma, who, all in all, should have stayed dead. That's the whodunit part. But, in a neat twist, the last part turns unexpectedly into a nail-biting suspenser.

Got to admit I didn't recognize cult favorite Hughes in dark hair and even, surprise, surprise, playing a good girl, which she does well. Then too, there's Beaver Cleaver's dad, Beaumont, playing what else but somebody's husband. At least, he doesn't have a couple kids to amusingly cope with. Anyhow, kudos to the writers for rising above the usual formula, and maybe to Newfield for noirish direction. All in all, the little flick's a cut better than the standard programmer.

This film makes "Detour," also released through PRC, look like "How Green Was My Valley." Yes, it's THAT cheap and phony looking. Yet, the performers are good and the plot has cool twists.

I loved seeing Mary Beth Hughes as a lead. She got third or fifth billing in so many better known noirs. At PRC, she was the leading lady she could be.

Hugh Beaumont is fine as her boyfriend with a past. The scenes of him and other men in silhouette are right off the cover of a dime novel.

The ladies in the movie are all fine. We have Ms. Hughes. Claudia Drake is very effective as a café singer. Much of the action takes place in the joint where she sings: the Club 711. And Barbara Slater is appropriately nasty as Beaumont's wife. She's been gone, thought dead, for seven years and has just reappeared as the story begins.

I have to say, the title makes no sense. No spoilers but I'm not sure why it was chosen. (I see that one of its working titles was "Ladies of the Night." That would have been too controversial. It also would have been too obvious, too blatant. And, again, it would not have really fit.) Also, the print I saw was terrible. I'd have rated it higher had it been restored. And I hope it will be!

Moderately interesting. Has Hugh Beaumont, the Beave's dad, playing a likable guy who is set to marry a sweet young thing, then has his wife (who disappeared seven years ago) show up. She is murdered and the plot is set in motion. The fiancé begins to investigate things. The problem is that she stands out like a sore thumb. Basically, everyone knows who she is but she is able to impose herself into secure locations and do her thing. There are series of red herrings and obvious suspects, a detective who is calm and vigilant most of the time, ready to protect her. Still, it lacks credibility of plot. When we get to the end, we have it pretty much worked out.

The Lady Confesses doesn't have a lot going for it, except for plot, and even that's pretty hackneyed. But it's foolish to expect more from a 64-minute cheapie from Producers Releasing Corporation starring Mary Beth Hughes and Hugh Beaumont (later to grasp immortality as The Beaver's dad). Nonetheless, there have been worse programmers.

After a seven year absence (unexplained to us), Beaumont's wife suddenly shows up, putting the kibosh on his plans to marry Hughes. Soon after her return, alas, she's found garotted. Beaumont, the prime suspect, has an alibi: he was passed out in the dressing room of a nightclub singer. Hughes, in the plucky style of the 40s, cops a job as a roving photographer in the club to dig up clues. What she turns up, however, brings her into peril....

The Lady Confesses has been called noir by virtue of its era and its setting, but it's really more of a quick-and-dirty mystery thriller with its roots in the previous decade. The director, Sam Newfield, started out in silents and directed a whole passel of forgettable Westerns before catching up with the emerging noir style of the post-war years. He retains the dubious distinction of having directed Beaumont in nine films.

Showing on the Moonlight Movies Channel. The only name i recognize in here is Hugh Beaumont... Dad, from Leave it to Beaver. Larry Craig's wife, thought long-dead, shows up and threatens the new girl-friend. then gets bumped off. A couple good songs, probably actually sung by Claudia Drake in this one, since most of the film takes place in a night club. The coppers question everyone, but one guys tells a different story than everyone else. A film noir... except that it feels like even the writers didn't know who dunnit until almost through filming. Suddenly, someone starts doing stuff, and now we know they must be involved. It's pretty good, but gets cheesy right near the end. It's ok. Directed by Sam Newfield, long-time bigshot at PRC film company.

By the humble standards of both director Sam Newfield and bottom-rung distributor P.R.C., The Lady Confesses (irrelevant title but catchy) shapes up as an outstanding little film noir. The screenplay is reasonably gripping and intriguing, the players (particularly the four leads: Hughes, Beaumont, MacDonald and Drake) are all on the ball, and more importantly both director Sam Newfield (I'd rate this as his best film) and photographer Jack Greenhalgh give it their best college try, using lots of effective close-ups, framed against noirishly glossy, black backgrounds. Even Emmett Vogan (minus his usual trademark glasses) comes across with reasonable conviction, while Dewey Roninson makes the most of his comparatively large role as an over-buoyant bartender. My only complaint is that all three of Claudia Drake's pleasing song numbers are either cut short or interrupted by the demands of the swift-moving plot.

Hugh Beaumont and Mary Beth Hughes star in The Lady Confesses, a programmer.

The characters played by Hugh Beaumont and Mary Beth Hughes are due to be married. However, his wife shows up after seven years. Then she winds up murdered.

Beaumont is a suspect, but he has a solid alibi as he arrived at a club drunk and slept it off in a dressing room.

Suspicion also falls on the club owner, who knew the wife and borrowed money from her. Hughes gets a job at the club and noses around for info.

Pretty good, and I liked the twist. Hugh some years before he played Beaver's father, had a B movie career. He was a solid leading man.

A straightforward noir B movie, nothing special, no attempt to do more than tell the story. Music cues the dangerous bits, so the audience can briefly pause from necking to watch the heroine escape from danger once more. That kind of thing. Dark interiors, night-time setting, etc. Barely an hour long. Perfunctory acting, competent editing. It was probably written, shot, edited, and printed in a week. The title has nothing to do with the story. *½

A low budget film noir from Poverty Row, P. R. C., which clearly did not stand for Pristine Resplendent Cinema. Devoid of any gloss or glamour; the faded, washed out print, the boxy, lo-fi soundtrack and the inherently clunky performance all serve to enhance the movie's period charm, exuding an almost tangible eeriness to every scene, making for inscrutably compulsive viewing.

Lying through his teeth, Edmund MacDonald appears to be dropping himself in it from a great height, but there's a twist, a turn, a swivel and a MacGuffin to negotiate before the final outcome.

Though the action revolves around 'The 711 Club', replete with a variety of dining experiences, the unfolding plot remains engrossing. Murder seems to draw little more than cool detachment, with the clipped 63 minute running time offering little scope for protracted outpourings of grief.

I confess to having had low expectations of this low cost entry, but despite the absence of polish and panache, it succeeds in holding the attention, as beautiful, dutiful Mary Beth Hughes assumes the role of detective, determined to solve the murder mystery. Ungainly, but gainful, 'The Lady Confesses' emerges as a quirky and ultimately rewarding addition to the noir catalogue.

Shortly before she is to be married, a young woman gets a visit from her fiancé's wife, who had been missing for seven years and presumed dead.

Soon both the girl and her fiancé find themselves mixed up with a crooked nightclub owner, gangsters and murder.

It's a nifty little very low budget film.

Will keep your interest more or less.

Not sure why they cant make these sorts of movies today. With video being so cheap it should be a shoe in.

Guess no one is writing this stuff anymore.

Best part -- the guy who played the father on the TV show Dennis the Menance is in it!

While on the verge of being divorced, Norma Craig disappears. Seven years later, when her husband, Larry Craig, plans to marry a girl Vicki McGuire, Norma returns and tells Vicki that she nor anybody else can marry Larry.

Soon both the girl and her fiancé find themselves mixed up with a crooked nightclub owner, gangsters and murder

Mary Beth Hughes makes a fine detective as she gets a job at a club to find out who killed her fiancée's wife - the number one suspect seems to be sleazy nightclub owner, Lucky (Edmund MacDonald). He certainly acts shady. It's a familiar tale, but it's a well done mystery that keeps one's attention as there's enough intrigue in the plot and enough twist and turns. Unravelling of the killer came as a surprise - that person obviously has a psychotic need to kill women. Anything to stop the heroine to find out the truth.

This is a web of women's plots. Craig's wife invests a fortune in a night club, gets involved with the partner of the affair, starts divorcing Craig and then vanishes for seven years, to turn up again just as he has planned to marry another nicer girl without other engagements. The wife visits the girl and tells her straight out that she cannot marry her husband, because she will now not divorce him. Later she is murdered.

Craig has an alibi too perfect for questioning, as he was at the night club dead drunk that night and later slept it off in the room of Claudia Drake, who is the real actress here. She is also involved with Mrs Craig's partner in the club and knows too much, or is suspected to know too much, so she is also murdered. There are not many left to suspect of all these lovely women murders.

There is a bit of excitement, and you are given plenty of space to keep wondering about the mystery here, but it all runs out rather quickly and does not amount to more than a fairly good B thriller. The police inspector is awful, but the music is good enough.

I have seen far worse from director Sam Newfield, far far worse. This one is not unforgettable though, because the plot sounds so familiar to me, and was used again and again since in so many films, TV movies and series episodes. But it remains interesting for gem diggers and Sam Newfield's stuff searchers.... The cult director of NABONGA and MONSTER MAKER, was a so prolific film maker too that most of them are lost, I guess. So, take the opportunity to catch those you can when it is possible. It is rather agreeable to watch and not too much comedy oriented, I expected far worse, I repeat. In th forties, Sam Newfield made sometimes ten films a year.