Anne Gwynne, one of the most beautiful 1940s B-movie bombshells, enjoys a chance here to show a tiny bit more range than she gets in her usual roles as girlfriends or the token female presence. She, along with an unusual plot loosely based on Fritz Leiber’s The Conjure Wife, keeps us going through the leaden, talky storytelling. Gwynne plays a white woman raised by South Pacific jungle natives. While on vacation during which he barges in on tribal ceremonies, professor Lon Chaney Jr. meets her, falls for her, marries her and carts her back with him to the USA (because what woman wouldn’t run off with Lon Chaney Jr?) She loses her animal skins in favor of gowns, shoulder pads and civilization, but she can’t let go of her pagan ways. She sneaks out of the house at night and conducts good fortune rituals in the woods. When her husband finds out, he demands that she stop and he throws her old tribal knick-knacks in the fireplace. It’s all still curling up in the flames when a series of deaths start happening around our troubled couple. Coincidence? If I had to sit through this to find out, then so do you. It does pick up the pace in the last half, at least.