The story is a murder mystery wrapped in a personal drama, told in cockamamie noir-esque dialog. RKO head Howard Hughes wanted to showcase both some gambling establishments he recently purchased and his leading lady, which the script must always remind the audience is otherworldly beautiful.
I never understood the fascination with Russell. Not unattractive, but she was only the best looking woman on screen when she was the only woman on screen. Contemporary reviews seem to agree, with the New York Times calling her “slightly grotesque to look upon”. That’s harsh. The film bombed.
The film features and is narrated by composer Hoagy Charmichael, who might have been another Crosby/Sinatra had he been prettier. I was curious how he got the nickname Hoagy. Turns out, his real first name is Hoagland, so there you go. Producer Howard Hughes (not Hugh Hefner) led a fascinating and tragic life. He was the prototype of the eccentric billionaire, becoming a shut-in during his last few years. Think Monty Burns. Also consider modern cult of personality billionaires who exhibit bizarre behavior and jump from industry to industry.
To be fair The Las Vegas Story isn't a bad mystery, if not a great one. Its Achilles heel is the nonsensical dialog desperately trying to impart heightened importance to every nuance, which it lacks in the final analysis. Compounding this is the complete lack of chemistry between Jane and ex-flame Lt. Andrews (Victor Mature). Their scenes, which should sizzle, just fall flat. AMRU 2.5.
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