I know the French love Samuel Fuller, but just because they’re right about Jerry Lewis doesn’t mean they are always right. Which also doesn’t mean that I don’t like Samuel Fuller — I just don’t like this movie. I don’t hate it either. I love the coy way the oldest profession is alluded to at the beginning, with the near Wilder/Diamond-style dialogue. This is tossed by midpoint, though, as all subtlety seems to be replaced, philosophically, with frankness. “When I first came to town, I was a prositute!” “Take this money, but no abortion!” “He was molesting that young child!” There are some fun campy moments (shoving money in the madam’s mouth) but also some terrible scenes (anything with the old seamstress is impossible to watch without groaning.) In all, I feel like the movie either could have been good (it isn’t) or it could have been ridiculous and over-the-top in a “Bad Seed” kinda way (it is at times, but not nearly enough.) Though the musical number, parapelegic children singing in a dirge-like fashion, is truly one of the strangest set-pieces I’ve seen.