This who-cares? tale of Adam White, an ambitious young journalist whose youthfully innocent (Adam = first man, White = pure, get it?) aspirations are shattered by the cynical reality of his first bigtime newspaper job is a totally yawnfest. It pained me to see three such talented actors drowning in a sea of overly wordy metaphors, allusions and similes. They talk like characters in a really badly written stage play with pretensions to serious "adult" drama (sample; "Has anyone ever tried to figure out how many tears you cry in a lifetime?") The worst offender is Ryan's verbally vicious newspaper editor. Not once does he actually say what he means, preferring instead to blather on like a man who's swallowed not only a dictionary but also "The Dummy's Guide to Philosophy." No wonder his wife (Loy) has become an alcoholic.
Clift is miscast as the reluctant "Miss Lonelyheart" agony-aunt/uncle columnist. He's wide-eyed enough (possibly the result of the plastic surgery on his face after a bad car smash 18 months earlier) but too old for the part, and his constant twitching is distracting. Presumably Clift's intent is to convey his character's discomfort in his own skin but it comes across like some kind of musclar control disorder.
Windy and pretentious in the extreme, screenwriter and producer Dore Schary may have believed he was creating high art but the result is totally arse.
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