An ancient millionaire is found in his opulent apartment strangled with a cord of his own Christmas tree lights. The only other person known to be in the house was his personal assistant upstairs, dead drunk. The millionaire's wife shows up. She's a cute blond, roughly seventy years younger than her husband.
As the knotty plot is slowly unraveled, it involves the wife's mother, who is pretty and looks younger than she is and has the features and expressions of a carefully groomed moray eel. As his, well, his mother-in-law, I suppose, although she's many years younger than the old fellow, she's been put up in a swank New York apartment for herself.
The old gentleman had been giving college grants to outstanding students at a minority school at some $25,000 a year per kid. Waterston and Lowell discover that the philanthropist's accountant had been writing checks for twenty-five students instead of the seventeen who had qualified. The extra money went into the accountant's pocket.
Now, there is a moral lesson in all these interwoven developments. Sub specie aeternitatis, we should all pity the very rich because nobody loves them for what they are. Their inner spirit may be aglow with virtue and good will, but nobody gives a damn. Everyone just wants their money. The same holds true for beauty. Since I'm old, ugly, and poor, I find a certain comfort can be taken from this position. As the Bible says, no camel ever entered the kingdom of heaven by passing through the eye of a rich man.
I particularly enjoyed the young blond wife's protestations regarding her innocence. "I would never murder my husband! He was nice. He was old and had medical problems anyway!" Good performances all around. Anna Kathryn Holbrook is the mother-in-law. She's an attractive women from Fairbanks, Alaska, but make up and talent have turned her into a greedy, manipulative, murderous Southern shark with a face that looks like the prow of a ship. For some reason I found Michael Lombard's enactment of the philanthropist's personal secretary compelling as well, although he keeps it steady and never over acts, not even when just roused from a drunken sleep.
As the knotty plot is slowly unraveled, it involves the wife's mother, who is pretty and looks younger than she is and has the features and expressions of a carefully groomed moray eel. As his, well, his mother-in-law, I suppose, although she's many years younger than the old fellow, she's been put up in a swank New York apartment for herself.
The old gentleman had been giving college grants to outstanding students at a minority school at some $25,000 a year per kid. Waterston and Lowell discover that the philanthropist's accountant had been writing checks for twenty-five students instead of the seventeen who had qualified. The extra money went into the accountant's pocket.
Now, there is a moral lesson in all these interwoven developments. Sub specie aeternitatis, we should all pity the very rich because nobody loves them for what they are. Their inner spirit may be aglow with virtue and good will, but nobody gives a damn. Everyone just wants their money. The same holds true for beauty. Since I'm old, ugly, and poor, I find a certain comfort can be taken from this position. As the Bible says, no camel ever entered the kingdom of heaven by passing through the eye of a rich man.
I particularly enjoyed the young blond wife's protestations regarding her innocence. "I would never murder my husband! He was nice. He was old and had medical problems anyway!" Good performances all around. Anna Kathryn Holbrook is the mother-in-law. She's an attractive women from Fairbanks, Alaska, but make up and talent have turned her into a greedy, manipulative, murderous Southern shark with a face that looks like the prow of a ship. For some reason I found Michael Lombard's enactment of the philanthropist's personal secretary compelling as well, although he keeps it steady and never over acts, not even when just roused from a drunken sleep.