Whirlpool is a good film, one that will especially please those viewers who appreciate the joys of film noir. Yet Whirlpool is also a disappointing film, especially for those familiar with the talent involved who might expect a more satisfying end product. Part of the problem is that Whirlpool's screenplay is filled with implausibilities. Adding to the problem is the fact that so much of its outlook on psychology and hypnotism are incredibly dated. Even the crackling, flavorful Ben Hecht dialogue can't quite make up for these problems, or for the echoes of Spellbound that surface throughout the film. But the bigger problem seems to be with Otto Preminger's direction. It's good, mind you, but it works in fits and starts; it's almost as if Preminger found himself both attracted to and afraid of the film for some reason. His commitment to Whirlpool ebbs occasionally, then comes back strong, and this occurs several times. It's not enough to sink the film, but it does make one wonder what Whirlpool would have been like if Preminger had felt a consistent connection to the material. Fortunately, his vacillations don't seem to affect the cast, with Gene Tierney and José Ferrer turning in thoroughly effective performances that help to offset Richard Conte's annoyingly wooden one. Despite its flaws, Whirlpool is worth watching, and there are some aspects -- its focus on kleptomania, the dual "good girl/femme fatale" quality of Tierney's character, the superficiality of the leading characters' marriage -- that are quite intriguing.