I wouldn't call this suspense movie a masterpiece but it's well written and acted. And the musical score is, improbably, by Nino Rota. I found it a little claustrophobic and very dark, although the banter is light-hearted enough, even as Robert Newton plots the murder of his wife, Sally Gray's, most recent lover and a cute little shaggy dog runs around making a general nuisance of himself.
If it doesn't remind you of Hitchcock's (or Knott's) "Dial M For Murder," it can only be because you haven't seen "Dial M For Murder." Newton is a suave and unflappable London psychiatrist. He's tired of his wife's serial philandering, so he kidnaps the latest of them, the American Phil Brown, and chains him up in a nearby garage. The idea is to keep good old Phil alive until his disappearance more or less blows over, then kill him, dissolve his body in acid, and let the whole business swirl down the drain.
The cursed dog, in a playful mood, discovers the arrangement and now Newton must dispose of the dog in the same way. It may have been Newton's only sound idea.
The disappearance of a foreign nobody, who may have taken off for foreign climes as far as anyone knows, and a dog that's run away. No need for Scotland Yard to get involved, let alone to start homing in on Newton. Yet the Yard does, in the person of the diminutive and chipper Naunton Wayne. Even during his first visit to the Newton house, he insinuates that Newton is somehow involved.
Newton plays the murderer manque absolutely straight, his diction precise, his demeanor impeccable and blameless. Except for one lapse, an Americanism he's picked up from his prisoner chained in the garage -- "Thanks, Pal." He only says it once but it's the wrong time and place. The dialog adds some necessary sparkle to the rather grim story and bleak prospect that looms over the film.
The weakest performance, which isn't terrible by any means, is Phil Brown's, the Yank. He's too cheerful and willfully snide with his captor, knowing he's to be killed. I mean, why insult the guy who's going to murder you? As the wife, Sally Gray hasn't much to do but look pretty, wear the revolting, long "new look" dresses of the period. My God, they were ugly. She's involved in a finely written, ironic ending. The dog, given a choice, runs to Phil Brown and ignores her calls. And the ending isn't tragic. Nobody dies. Newton is only imprisoned and the authorities will doubtless make him the chief librarian.
If it doesn't remind you of Hitchcock's (or Knott's) "Dial M For Murder," it can only be because you haven't seen "Dial M For Murder." Newton is a suave and unflappable London psychiatrist. He's tired of his wife's serial philandering, so he kidnaps the latest of them, the American Phil Brown, and chains him up in a nearby garage. The idea is to keep good old Phil alive until his disappearance more or less blows over, then kill him, dissolve his body in acid, and let the whole business swirl down the drain.
The cursed dog, in a playful mood, discovers the arrangement and now Newton must dispose of the dog in the same way. It may have been Newton's only sound idea.
The disappearance of a foreign nobody, who may have taken off for foreign climes as far as anyone knows, and a dog that's run away. No need for Scotland Yard to get involved, let alone to start homing in on Newton. Yet the Yard does, in the person of the diminutive and chipper Naunton Wayne. Even during his first visit to the Newton house, he insinuates that Newton is somehow involved.
Newton plays the murderer manque absolutely straight, his diction precise, his demeanor impeccable and blameless. Except for one lapse, an Americanism he's picked up from his prisoner chained in the garage -- "Thanks, Pal." He only says it once but it's the wrong time and place. The dialog adds some necessary sparkle to the rather grim story and bleak prospect that looms over the film.
The weakest performance, which isn't terrible by any means, is Phil Brown's, the Yank. He's too cheerful and willfully snide with his captor, knowing he's to be killed. I mean, why insult the guy who's going to murder you? As the wife, Sally Gray hasn't much to do but look pretty, wear the revolting, long "new look" dresses of the period. My God, they were ugly. She's involved in a finely written, ironic ending. The dog, given a choice, runs to Phil Brown and ignores her calls. And the ending isn't tragic. Nobody dies. Newton is only imprisoned and the authorities will doubtless make him the chief librarian.