"She looked like a very special kind of dynamite, neatly wrapped in nylon and silk," observes married cad Robert Young after laying his eyes on a budding femme fatale. "Only I wasn't having any. I'd been too close to one explosion already. I was powder shy." Needless to say, it doesn't take him long to resume his philandering ways in this Cain-esque study. Young, who was usually seen in more benign roles, is an inspired bit of casting here; no matter how vile and spineless his actions get, he never ceases to inspire sympathy—something the women in his life seem to agree with, who, to the film's credit, are neither presented are mere victims nor are they called upon to serve as a moral compass for the audience. Produced by Hitchcock's oft-time collaborator Joan Harrison, who fought hard to keep the film's transgressive elements as intact as possible, They Won't Believe Me is one of the finest, most underrated 'noir' dramas of the 1940s.