During the early years of his directing career, Cassavetes evinced a strong interest in jazz, and although this is one of his lesser films, it features interesting work by Bobby Darin, as well as a rare screen glimpse of the kind of scuffling endemic to most musicians in the idiom. The flimsy script, which invokes prostitution as a metaphor for the compromises an artist has to deal with in this cruel world, no doubt reflects the obstacles facing the director as one of the pioneer independent directors, but otherwise has little to recommend it. Although it seems the director kept improvisation to a minimum, he uses takes far longer than were common at the time, giving his actors a chance to stretch out, much like musicians. However, unlike his later films, most of the cast is far from being up to the challenge, especially the indelibly bad Everett Chambers, as Darin's vampirish manager. Yet, thanks to Darin, the film has occasional moments of genuine power for those willing to wade through some self-indulgent scenes. Benny Carter and Slim Gaillard are among the jazz legends providing excellent source music, with which David Raksin's score dovetails beautifully. Val Avery and Seymour Cassell shine in inexplicably small parts.