The film may be flawed, but its message is not.

Easily the biggest piece of Right wing non sense propaganda I ever saw.

It’s fine. It's literally the definition of a fine movie. You’ve seen it before, you know every beat and outcome before the characters even do. Only question is how much escapism you’re looking for.

There are moments that feel comical, some horrific, and some downright inspiring but the tonal shifts hardly matter as the end results come to a film that's perfect for this time.

HELL'S ISLAND was the third Karlson-Payne film project, a color noir shot in widescreen. This time the director and star were not working for independent producer Edward Small, but instead for the Pine-Thomas unit at Paramount. The somewhat larger budget given this production allowed it to be made in Technicolor and VistaVision. The story has Payne in pursuit of a stolen ruby down in the Caribbean, which causes him to cross paths with an ex-girlfriend who deals in deception. Mary Murphy plays the femme fatale; and Paul Picerni is her imprisoned husband that Payne may or may not help break out of jail. Karlson's hard-hitting direction was praised, and so were the colorful characters, and Payne's tough performance.In addition to the three film noirs they made together, Karlson and Payne would collaborate again on television. They both worked on the Studio 57 episode 'Deadline' broadcast on February 26, 1956.

Looks like Paramount decided to make a version of The Maltese Falcon (1941), in Vista Vision, no less. Frankly, I would have preferred good old b&w for the noir material, but then who's going to leave their new-fangled 1955 TV for more b&w. The plot may be familiar— a ruthless spider woman tricks a fall guy for insurance money– but it's still slickly done. Then too, Payne grimaces appropriately as schemes unfold around him, while Murphy looks the part of a deadly bon-bon. Still, she lacks that inner spider dimension that Mary Astor revealed so tellingly in the original. And what about ex-wrestler Sandor Szabo as what else but a gruesome thug. I had trouble following all the twists and turns of who did what to whom, but I guess it all got explained in the wrap. Too bad production didn't work in more raw evil since director Karlson can really make you feel it. No this is no Phenix City Story (1955) or Kansas City Confidential (1952), the culmination of Karlson's career, at least in my little book. But the results are still engaging, thanks to Payne, a sensually recumbent Murphy, and a fat guy not named Sydney Greenstreet.

This is a decent film noir production. It stars John Payne in the latter portion of his career--when he was no longer a pretty-boy or light-weight singer. He was good as an angry noir hero and I certainly thought that he was up to the task. However, the plot is another story. While it's not bad, it's VERY, VERY familiar--like the writer was simply regurgitating portions of other movies he'd recently seen. In MANY ways, it's a reworking of "The Maltese Falcon" that is set in Mexico--and even has a similar sort of dame and a fat guy doing a Sidney Greenstreet imitation! It is also like several other B-movies I've seen over the years. Nothing particularly original about this one. It's got a few weaknesses (the woman is so OBVIOUSLY evil yet our hero doesn't recognize this for the longest time--even though he's a well-educated guy!) and about all you'd expect from a film of this sort--double-crosses, murders and the like. A decent time-passer but no more.

After 99 River Street and Kansas City Confidential, world-weary bruiser John Payne teams up with director Phil Karlson for Hell's Island, this time in VistaVision (Payne apparently had the foresight to see that television would become a profitable market for color films). After being jilted, Payne drank himself out of a job in the L.A. district attorney's office and now serves as bouncer in a Vegas casino. A wheelchair-bound stranger (Francis L. Sullivan) engages him to locate a ruby that disappeared in a Caribbean plane crash; the bait is that it may be in the possession of the woman (Mary Murphy) who jilted him. Payne flies off to Santo Rosario and into a web of duplicity at whose center Murphy waits (she does the "femme" better than she does the "fatale," however). There's a splendid moment when she shuts up her doors and draws the curtains on the memory of her rich busband, now in a penal colony across the subtropical waters for supposedly causing the deadly crash. The movie's texture is spun from Payne's carrying a torch that fails to illuminate the amplitude of clues and warning signals all around him. Professionally done if not especially memorable, Hell's Island remains an enjoyable color noir -- the Payne/Karlson combo rarely disappoints.