The average renter may not even notice the newly cleaned up print, in which Russell Metty's astounding camera work plumbs the depths of moral murk in a corrupt Mexican border town, or the way the celebrated three minute opening shot is now uncluttered by opening titles. But even the casual viewer may be able to discern that ''Evil'' is, like so many other films by the most supremely talented egotist in the history of the medium, about Orson Welles himself.
As the jowly, murderous, shockingly bloated police chief Hank Quinlan, Welles still manages to be more sympathetic than the priggish nominal hero played by Charlton Heston, and the scene where fortune teller Marlene Dietrich reads his cards could stand as the director's Hollywood epitaph. ''Come on, read my future for me,'' he asks. ''You haven't got any,'' she snaps. Just so: Welles never made another studio film.
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