Amidst the electric fireflies and tailor-made flowers there's some real artistry hidden here. I'm an absolute sucker for technicolor oceans and Harry Stradling appears to have known my weakness. Meanwhile drunken, spiteful Arthur Kennedy's doing, if not the best work of his career, then at least my favourite. He leads a cast of catty bitches, itching to get their claws into each other. A feast if you're hungry.