You would think that a film entitled "Pressure Point" would, at the very least, exhibit some degree of dramatic build up or, dare I even say it? Tension. But this is a Stanley Kramer pic (yeah, I know some guy named Cornfield is credited as director but as with everything Stanley touches it bears his heavy imprint) so what we get instead is what I like to call Pulpit Cinema (actually two pulpits, one of Civil Rights and the other of Anti Nazi-ism) with its concomitant over reliance on Stanley's surrogate, scenarist S. Lee Pogostin, preaching at us and subjecting us to boring soul searching and breast beating conversation and the complete jettisoning of such, to Kramer no doubt, extraneous directorial matters as pacing and flow. The result is a fairly enervating two hours with wonderful black and white, surreal cinematography by Ernest Haller and the usual good work of Poitier and the surprisingly solid work of Bobby Darin. Indeed, Darin is such a naturally good actor I wonder why he didn't carve out a second career for himself in movies, a la Sinatra? Give it a C plus.
PS...Forgot just how bad Peter Falk could be when he's bad.
PS...Forgot just how bad Peter Falk could be when he's bad.