A powerful look on Alcoholism. This holds up really well and is still relevant to today. Ray Milland is great.

Not the type of movie that tends to age well, but this one surprised. The depiction of alcoholism feels a little ahead of its time (the hallucination sequence is terrifying) and has some genuinely affecting moments (none more memorable than the condensation rings on the bar top.) Loved the supporting performances from Howard da Silva as the bartender with a heart, Doris Dowling as the prostitute, and Frank Faylen as the creeply "Bim" on the alcohol ward.

Alright. We get it. Alcohol is bad. And other stories about drinking genius writers you might have heard are not true. There are better movies about alcohol / drug abuse. This approach isn't very entertaining, not very educative, not very credible and not very convincing. Maybe this movie was great when it was released but it doesn't stand the test of time. Plus, it's too long and those narrative flashbacks don't seem to be very clever. The most remarkable thing is the guy in the bathroom He's the only black guy in an all-white Manhattan I believe. His job is apparently to wipe off the suits of his clients with some sort of straw brush. That picture is kind of disturbing.

An Oscar-studded warning film that was, no doubt, far more potent seventy years ago. In addition to three other wins (including Best Picture), leading man Ray Milland took the gold for his central performance as a desperate, cash-strapped, bridge-burning alcoholic at the end of his rope following yet another ill-fated flirtation with sobriety. Milland portrays an effective lush, both charismatic and conniving, a man who's almost able to conceal his inner demons from the public. Almost. And the depths he's willing to plunge for one last taste of whiskey make it easy to comprehend his immediate family's desire to wash their hands of the errant son. The whole affair is often blunt and hammy in presentation, though; maybe not as excessive and misleading as its contemporary, Reefer Madness, but certainly not far from the ballpark. There's an odd sense of the aloof at play here, dredging the depths in search of new lows without bothering to dig any deeper into the sickness at the heart of all the troubles. Its jarring happy ending smacks of insincerity, too, and needlessly undermines the tale's moral base. Not as bad as I seem to be letting on, especially considering the well-connected alcohol industry's vehement opposition to its subject matter, but a curious award-winner all the same. It's good at times, but never great.

Just as hard as Days of wine and roses, the Oscar for the film, actor, direction and script very deserved. When I see or Jane Wyman I always remember her role as Angela Channing in Falcon Crest