Losey's nerve-jangling style matches the subject: his images' crisscrossing and striated lines evoke George's unresolved tangle of conscience and identity.

Apparently everybody was concerned with theatrical effects and forgot all about a story with point and intelligence.

Neither juvenile delinquent drama nor wild youth thriller, this is a portrait in rage and shame and disappointment in fathers and father figures.

The Big Night is so slow, murkily lit, and incoherently involved with the meek pantomime of John Barrymore, Jr., that it might make more sense if the reels were run backward.