From the opening shot, an ECU of Jeanne Moreau whispering "I love you," we're as hooked as poor Maurice Ronet, like John Garfield in "The Postman Always Rings Twice," a sucker for a dame in a bad marriage. But Ronet makes a very unlikely mistake, then another: we like the movie and the audience may suspend some disbelief to keep the story moving along, but how many of these can we tolerate? Each time credulity is strained, the audience begins to realize that they're just being gulled and they may drop out at any moment. For me, I'd had enough once I'd seen the beautiful face of Elga Andersen. The plot holes kept getting deeper and deeper. When I watch a movie and I'm required to fix the script, I've lost interest. The cinematography and music are nice.
Review of Elevator to the Gallows
