"Consider, Watson, the irony, the tragic irony of it. We've accepted a commission from the victim to find her murderer. For the first time...we've been retained by a corpse."
We are about to witness one of the cruelest and most dastardly of schemes, this time in the village of Le Mort Rouge, located not far from Quebec City and surrounded by marsh, bog and swamp. We also will witness the increasingly unnatural relationship between Sherlock Holmes (Basil Rathbone) and John Watson (Nigel Bruce). No, no, not that kind of relationship, but the unnatural relationship between a rigorously logical detective and a friend who has become a bumbling, ridiculous oaf. One must assume that sometime between 1939 and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and 1942 and The Voice of Terror, John Watson suffered a series of small strokes that turned the man into a well-meaning, complacent fool. It must have been intensely irritating for Sherlock Holmes to share quarters at 221B Baker Street with the "old boy," but at least Holmes was loyal.
What draws Holmes and Watson to La Mort Rouge is the terrible death of Lady Lillian Penrose, the woman who wrote to Holmes pleading for help. She was found in an empty church, clutching the bell rope, her throat torn open by some horrendous creature of the night...a creature that had also ripped open the throats of several sheep. Some, such as Lord Penrose, now alone in his great stone manor with fog sweeping in during the long nights, believe in supernatural curses. Holmes believes murder comes at the hands of murderers, not ghosts. He will find himself up against one of the most ruthless, deranged and resourceful villains in his long career. There can be no doubt of the outcome...but more deaths will occur before this madman is unmasked in the marsh and dies himself, his throat torn open with terrible and ironic justice.
Popcorn, anyone?
The Scarlet Claw is great fun once one accepts Dr. John Watson as a nincompoop. The pleasure, of course, comes from Basil Rathbone's portrayal of The Great Detective and all that swirling fog. Surprisingly, this entry in the Universal series holds up reasonably well, with a clever plot, a villain who keeps us guessing, tight direction and a script that doesn't do too much damage to the reputation of The Canon. The first two Rathbone/Holmes efforts, produced in 1939 at 20th Century Fox, were solidly mounted A movies. In 1942 with Universal, the series became firmly grounded in the tradition of B-movie programmers. Rathbone, one of the great name character actors in the Thirties, ground out 12 Holmes movies in four years before he called it quits. By then, of course, he'd become so closely identified with Holmes that he didn't have much of a career left. Most of Universal's Holmes films are just what they appear to be, quickie programmers that, for many, still retain some charm. The Scarlet Claw is probably better than the rest of them.
It should be remembered that almost everything we know of Dr. John Watson comes from himself as author of the many cases of his friend he wrote using the alias of his literary agent, Conan Doyle. He seems to me to be a modest, straightforward man of some courage who values his friends. His weakness, perhaps, is no more than a certain lack of imagination. While many may differ on how Holmes has been portrayed in popular entertainment, my favorites for Dr. John Watson are James Mason in Murder by Decree, Ian Hart in Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking and Ben Kingsley in Without a Clue.
We are about to witness one of the cruelest and most dastardly of schemes, this time in the village of Le Mort Rouge, located not far from Quebec City and surrounded by marsh, bog and swamp. We also will witness the increasingly unnatural relationship between Sherlock Holmes (Basil Rathbone) and John Watson (Nigel Bruce). No, no, not that kind of relationship, but the unnatural relationship between a rigorously logical detective and a friend who has become a bumbling, ridiculous oaf. One must assume that sometime between 1939 and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and 1942 and The Voice of Terror, John Watson suffered a series of small strokes that turned the man into a well-meaning, complacent fool. It must have been intensely irritating for Sherlock Holmes to share quarters at 221B Baker Street with the "old boy," but at least Holmes was loyal.
What draws Holmes and Watson to La Mort Rouge is the terrible death of Lady Lillian Penrose, the woman who wrote to Holmes pleading for help. She was found in an empty church, clutching the bell rope, her throat torn open by some horrendous creature of the night...a creature that had also ripped open the throats of several sheep. Some, such as Lord Penrose, now alone in his great stone manor with fog sweeping in during the long nights, believe in supernatural curses. Holmes believes murder comes at the hands of murderers, not ghosts. He will find himself up against one of the most ruthless, deranged and resourceful villains in his long career. There can be no doubt of the outcome...but more deaths will occur before this madman is unmasked in the marsh and dies himself, his throat torn open with terrible and ironic justice.
Popcorn, anyone?
The Scarlet Claw is great fun once one accepts Dr. John Watson as a nincompoop. The pleasure, of course, comes from Basil Rathbone's portrayal of The Great Detective and all that swirling fog. Surprisingly, this entry in the Universal series holds up reasonably well, with a clever plot, a villain who keeps us guessing, tight direction and a script that doesn't do too much damage to the reputation of The Canon. The first two Rathbone/Holmes efforts, produced in 1939 at 20th Century Fox, were solidly mounted A movies. In 1942 with Universal, the series became firmly grounded in the tradition of B-movie programmers. Rathbone, one of the great name character actors in the Thirties, ground out 12 Holmes movies in four years before he called it quits. By then, of course, he'd become so closely identified with Holmes that he didn't have much of a career left. Most of Universal's Holmes films are just what they appear to be, quickie programmers that, for many, still retain some charm. The Scarlet Claw is probably better than the rest of them.
It should be remembered that almost everything we know of Dr. John Watson comes from himself as author of the many cases of his friend he wrote using the alias of his literary agent, Conan Doyle. He seems to me to be a modest, straightforward man of some courage who values his friends. His weakness, perhaps, is no more than a certain lack of imagination. While many may differ on how Holmes has been portrayed in popular entertainment, my favorites for Dr. John Watson are James Mason in Murder by Decree, Ian Hart in Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Silk Stocking and Ben Kingsley in Without a Clue.