An artwork film of epic crime and during one black & white Mexico film session produces the rebirth of a classic film by Orson Wells. Depending on the upturn of the acting mode – The music and the flute of the lyre here, stone cold violence against a newlywed couple, an American woman whose father and new spouse both work undercover for the U.S. government. And coupled with the D.E.A., as early as 1958 the language & harmony of such poetic criminal activity keep as steady a beat with the dithyrambic rhythm of a story line as long as hot across the border tragedies keep coming. The deepest, darkest hood of New York City, N.Y. have no ice at all though on these organized Mexican criminals though, and a family so low they even go after and try to take down one of their own and his newly beloved wife. The iambic irony rests on a laurel of such redeeming shock value also, after the gang finds out that the wife of her new government official spouse fears not the relative gringo of her beloved. She tells one heavy big shot that he needs to stop watching so many crime films. And coincides with that elegiac, everyone except her husband, while some illegal aliens commit crimes – her husband seems the only one who wants to do right. The hexameter of the climax of the film, asks whether the good men taking action to fight the good fight are only objects of the greatest imitation ever performed. All a meter aside, as a mating ritual long years since passed, a group of goats gather around one parking lot. Still, this does not stop her husband from asking, “Do you realize I have not kissed you in over an hour?” A bomb blows up an auto only feet away. A Mexican vacation honeymoon soon turns a bad shade of very, dark grey. She (Janet Leigh) heads back to the hotel. Her husband (Charlton Heston) & a big government official and in a way as classic as the black & white film here, to remove all of the criminals, aided by the D.A. – seems some historical credential marks time eternal, ever unchanging. “We don’t just cross over to Mexico,” said one American drunk to another. “Thousands do every day,” said the other. So, no matter what you say, you can tell that Wells wanted no one to dispute the ancient known. Orson, who also had a part to play, played as Detective Hank Quinlan. “I didn’t recognize you – you should lay off those candy bars,” his ex-girlfriend, a barmaid style Mexican woman, warns him. That line kind of reminded you of the television wife of black & white show innovator, Jackie Gleason, of The Honeymooners. A director cut film (Orson Wells), Albert Zugsmith & Rick Schmidlin also helped with the 1998 restoration of the movie. Touch of Evil. Also the name of a song by Judas Priest, Leigh as Susie does find herself the victim of the gaudy criminal family, whose leader she first correctly slots as, “You silly little pig.” “Who are you talking to,” asks the store bought gringo. “You,” she advises at that point. “So this little meeting is over. Good bye all,” she adds. A theme of mean Mexican gangsters up against drug enforcement officials lends enough crime thriller excitement to complement the book Badge of Evil by Whit Masterson, the revived film is based on.