Through all the rest of the film after the big fire you expect Dennis Price to turn up again with his wheezing asthma, as you suspect that's what he is doing even after he first has been found dead. You simply can't believe he is dead, just as his widow does, since there are constantly recurring signs that he isn't, for instance the dog that always favoured him and all those left cigarette butts that constantly keep turning up still smoking. The first thing that must strike you about Dennis Price's character is that you shouldn't smoke when you have asthma. Well, he does in every scene in which he appears. There are many good reasons for small chuckles of laughter at various instances of jovial good humour, maybe especially after the very last scene. They are all ordinary insurance agents trying to do their job as honestly as possible, and Jack Hawkins is the most honest of them all, although he loses his temper at times and keeps delaying or postponing coming out with the truth. It's a splendidly brilliant thriller with many odds and turns, and you never quite know where anyone stands - who could ever have suspected that most innocent and honourable person of them all? The ladies are perfectly intriguing to say the least, Greta Gynt has a small part but an appallingly efficient one. Arlene Dahl as the leading lady is perfectly convincing in all her doubted innocence, and Christopher Lee makes another unforgettable impression in his only scene with a perfectly smashing black eye. Tracey Morton (Dennis Price) must have laughed himself all through the film, especially as his death is so doubtful. In brief, this is a British noir at its best and a most enjoyable titbit for any connoisseur.
Review of She Played with Fire
