Robert Aldrich's brutal, quasi-black comedy "The Grissom Gang", a reworking of the 1948 British film "No Orchids For Miss Blandish", has 1920s heiress Kim Darby kidnapped by a pack of clumsy thieves; soon, that gang is dispatched and poor Kim is then transferred into the clutches of another crooked bunch--third-rate gangster brothers with sweaty, pasty faces and a mother who looks like Buddy Ebsen in drag. At first, Darby (not very plucky, and not very smart) attempts to escape this drooling brood, but they're onto her. Eventually she just gives up trying, and therein lies the trouble with the story. Are we in the audience supposed to sympathize with her? Is her growing concern for the family half-wit supposed to be heartwarming? These are disgusting, cretinous characters, and I wanted to see as little of them as possible. But since the side-stories (the progress of the cops on the case and another one involving floozy-singer Connie Stevens) are rather dull, the director has no choice but to keep foisting those sweaty faces on us. Pretty soon, nervous Darby starts sweating too, although her scene up in the hayloft is sensitively performed and Aldrich's climactic moments are thought-provoking, if disorganized. ** from ****