A great movie, one of the best of this year. There was a bit of confusion at one point in the plot, but nothing serious.

what a terribly boring film. I'm sorry but this is absolutely not deserving of best picture and will be forgotten quickly. Entertaining and engaging cinema? No. Nothing performances with flat faces and mistaking silence for subtlety.

A terrific literary drama and character piece that shows how the process of creating art can be seen differently by those doing it and those looking at it from the outside.

It's simply great fun, a winsome film and an occasionally over-the-top luxury fantasy that never flags.

A sumptuous Technicolor weirdie from a surprisingly off-beat script by Richard Brooks and Gene Lewis, who doubtless added all the bizarre touches (the pants-sewing chimp, the sacrificial frenzy of a mad cobra-dance) to an otherwise run-of-the-mill tale of rival queens on the forbidden island. Director Robert Siodmak was later to comment that "Cobra Woman was silly but fun... Maria Montez was a great personality who believed completely in her roles. If she was playing a princess, you had to treat her like one; but if she was a slave-girl, you could kick her around anyhow. Method acting before its time, you might say." The trailer for this movie really deserves a review in itself. One of these days someone is going to write a book about trailers. Most of them were produced and distributed by National Screen Service. Their Hollywood studios were located at 7026 Santa Monica Blvd. At their peak, the Service probably employed close to a thousand people. Cobra Woman is the high camp epitome of Maria Montez's Technicolored career. The trailer is great stuff too. It even gives a few hints of the many surprises in store for lucky viewers. For instance, the announcer is careful to credit the presence not only of such luminaries as Lon Chaney, Edgar Barrier, Lois Collier and even Mary Nash, but "Koko", thus acknowledging the chimp's key role in the movie. Yes, he also concentrates on "pagan splendor and spectacle". Cobra Woman he avers, offers "all that you desire in adventure and romance: the horror of masses trapped by King Cobra, the sinuous dance of the temple beauties in their waltz of the snakes; all the fabulous wonders and dangers of the tropics!" Plus Maria Montez, "more ravishing, more bewitching, more alluring!" Plus Jon Hall at his "dynamic best", "a rascally Sabu". And all "lavishly produced in glorious Technicolor!" What more could a picturegoer ask?

If the term Camp had never been created, then we'd have to come up with it to describe this deliriously awful, delightfully irresistible trash-masterpiece from the 1940s. Maria Montez (the queen of Camp) plays a pair of sisters, one good and one bad, who vie for control of a voodoo island. In dazzling color, the bad sister dances wildly as the natives all beg for pity, as they know that any one she happens to point to will be executed to satisfy her lust for blood. Jon Hall, later Ramar of the Jungle on TV, is the goodguy, with Sabu as his sidekick. Absolutely hypnotic in its chromotic silliness, and a must-see for all fans of films that truly are so bad that they're good.

Cobra Woman was directed by Robert Siodmak just as he was embarking on his peerless string of black pearls: Phantom Lady, Christmas Holiday, The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry, The Suspect, The Spiral Staircase, The Killers, The Dark Mirror, Cry of The City, Criss Cross and The File on Thelma Jordon. And that's a bitter pill to swallow.The movie harks back to styles of moviemaking which the noir cycle, which Siodmak was so instrumental in creating, was putting blessedly to rest: To Saturday-matinee serials and boys' stories like Treasure Island, to South Seas excursions like Rain and Red Dirt and White Cargo, to gaudy, escapist musicals. And yet Cobra Woman achieves an almost solitary stature; only Vincente Minnelli's Yolanda and The Thief, from the following year, challenges its reputation as a movie so wildly overblown it's unhinged. There's little point in rehashing the plot, which centers on twins separated at birth: Tollea, a sweet native girl engaged to marry an American; and Naja, high-priestess of a snake cult that practices human sacrifice. Rightful heir Tollea is kidnaped so she can depose her evil sister and placate the Fire Mountain (a cheesy back-lot volcano). Supporting parts are taken by Jon Hall, Lon Chaney, Jr., Sabu and a loinclothed chimpanzee.A thickly-accented native of the Dominican Republic, Maria Montez plays, sensibly, both twins (giving Siodmak good practice for Olivia De Havilland's similar dual role in The Dark Mirror). Cobra Island, her domain, in its outlandish costumes and grandiose sets, puts to shame those elephants-and-all productions of Aida staged in the Baths of Caracalla; this Technicolor nightmare gives a sneak-preview, in its prurient take on pagan excess, the cycle of Biblical epics that were just down the road for Hollywood.But neither Cecil B. DeMille (in Samson and Delilah) nor Douglas Sirk (in Sign of the Pagan) nor Michael Curtiz (in The Egyptian) – nor even, for that matter, Minnelli (though he came closest) – could rival Siodmak's big set-piece: Naja/Montez performing the Cobra Dance. Clad in a snake-scale gown, she shimmies awkwardly for His Undulating Majesty himself, King Cobra, until he strikes at her (a mating gesture? Reptiles can be so ambiguous). She erupts into a frenzied spasm, hurling accusatory fingers at sacrificial victims who will then be made to climb the Thousand Steps to the angry maw of Fire Mountain. It would be reassuring to write off Cobra Woman as some sort of failed allegory, about Fifth Columnists, or Free French vs. Vichy, or something; but no such evidence exists. The movie is what it is, and utterly astonishing.

This, for me at age 9, was not so much a film as an absolutely terrifying experience, the memory of which kept me awake at nights for weeks afterwards (seen on Tuesday 13 February 1945 at the Empire Cinema, Glossop). The jungle, the volcano with its flames reflecting on the faces of the actors, the snakes, the extraordinary and frightening costumes, the sinister drumming music, the bright colour with green costumes and orange flames, the terrifying and evil expression on the face of the Queen, Kado's blowpipe - all these made up a cocktail of complete terror, and I stayed in the cinema only because I was with friends and was ashamed to show my feelings. I was far too young to be aware of any niceties in the way of crudities of dialogue or acting technique, and the whole thing was simply an unbelievable cinema experience, which can never, never be forgotten. What a shame if this remarkable creation is lost to us for ever!