LOVE HAS MANY FACES, and in this 1965 wheeze some of the stress-tested pusses belong to Lana Turner, Cliff Robertson and Hugh O’Brian. Yet only the sunny Mexican scenery emerges with distinction, as the script stinks, there’s no-one to give a fig about and what little camp value the smoke, drink & smolder couplings hold soon evaporates giggles to snores as 105 minutes drag out, effectively a sentence for loitering.

KIT: ” You know something, Hank? You’re ninety percent man and ten percent rat.”   HANK: “Anytime you want the ninety percent, just reach.”  KIT: “I’d break my arm first.”

Cliff liplocks Lana because…why be the last man standing?

Once past the lame title tune (belted by Nancy Wilson as though it actually had merit) the screenplay fever-dreamed by Marguerite Roberts lets us know that apparently the beaches of Acapulco were ground zero for a clutch of transplanted American beach boys (boys figurative with Cliff 41 and Hugh 39) running a paid-to-play scene for middle-aged gringas with money to spare and libidos to share. When a younger boy toy washes ashore muerto, the police investigate, thinking there may be a tie-in with one of the deceased dude’s flames, rich man-eater deluxe ‘Kit Jordon’ (Lana, 43, still admirably fit to frolic), who is currently married to brooding ‘Pete’ (Robertson), who’s ceded the pickup throne to swaggering stud ‘Hank Walker’ (O’Brian, showing off chiseled bod, impressive water-skiing skill and the unfair ability to hang in the air straight-out sideways). Kit, Pete and Hank spar back & forth like alley cats with designer fur (or Coppertone tans). A pair of hopeful recipients (Ruth Roman, 42, and Virginia Grey, 47) show up to use & be used, then the ex-girlfriend (Stefanie Powers) of the dead guy arrives to bring naivete and an unflattering hairdo to a one-sided battle with the main tiger lady Kit/Lana.

Lugubriously directed by Alexander Singer (A Cold Wind In August), it’s too dour to be much fun, other than the bright scenery of then-unspoiled and safe Acapulco, and the assortment of flashy resort threads Edith Head designed for Turner. Robertson sulks, the roles for Roman and Grey are thankless, and once again studio-pushed Powers, 22, is only a tad better than Jill St. John, who at least looked better in a bikini and would have murdered the dialogue more amusingly. O’Brian seems to enjoy himself, a different type of upright  from his days as TVs Wyatt Earp.

For the legendary leading lady, garbed to tease like a naughty post-Ken Barbie, this time-filler/paycheck was a decided comedown from the high-level soaps Peyton Place (#2 in ’57) and Imitation Of Life (#8 in ’60): only $2,400,000 was yawned up, showing a steep drop to #95 in ’65. There is a ripe moment when one of the guys snarks that Kit will end up with seven husbands, a lead-weight observation since at the time this was filmed Lana was in-between the sixth & seventh of her eight swings at matrimony. *

“Tell you what, baby. You go ahead and get wet. If I’m not there in five minutes, you start without me.”  To be used only if you will risk receiving a high heel in the netherlands. Speaking of ouch, this is the show where Lana gets gored by a bull, the b.s. in the script not enough to bring her down without a trot-in cameo of snorts, horns and dust. Ole!

With Enrique Lucero, Ron Hussmann, Carlos Montalban and Jaime Bravo.

* Many, Many Faces or Die Having Tried—Lana tied with Liz (Taylor) and Mickey (Rooney) at eight marriages, beaten by Zsa Zsa Gabor’s nine, later challenged by Jennifer O’Neill’s nine—and that’s as of 2026: since the Summer of ’42 dream siren is only nearing 78, who knows what’s (or who’s) yet in store?

Turner’s turn—“I find men terribly exciting, and any girl who says she doesn’t is an anemic old maid, a streetwalker, or a saint.”  “I planned on having one husband and seven children, but it turned out the other way around.”

Click to enlarge for clarity