Sandwiched between two Technicolour swashbucklers comes this modest, understated and absorbing black and white whodunnit from the stylish Jacques Tourneur, now working freelance.
In the course of trying to discover how his younger brother died during a commando raid in occupied France, the Clay Douglas of dapper Ray Milland travels the length and breadth of the British Isles and comes across a varied assortment of characters who supply him with snippets of information. He thinks he has pinpointed his brother's killer but he is in for a surprise..........
The casting here is spot on and there is a marvellous turn by Marius Goring as a 'camp' choreographer named Sholto whilst Naunton Wayne, this time without Basil Radford, is superlative as a car salesman named, naturally enough, Reggie Sinclair. The female interest here is supplied by the enchanting Patricia Roc whose chemistry with Milland is palpable. The only piece of bizarre casting is that of Dora Bryan as a cabaret artiste who sings with an obviously dubbed American accent the splendidly suggestive 'I've got a buttonhole for my baby'!
The cast is lucky enough to have the dialogue to speak of Philip MacDonald whilst the cinematography and editing are by two of the finest in their respective fields, Oswald Morris and Alan Osbiston.
The scene that lingers longest in the memory is that in which Milland confronts Goring and Hugh Sinclair in a bleak Scottish landscape and finally learns the truth. Masterful direction here by Tourneur.
I was gripped by this piece from the outset and what I was fully expecting to be a grevious disappointment turned out to be a jubilant surprise.
In case anyone's interested the fabulous motor that Milland gets to drive is a 1920 Mercedes Benz. They certainly don't make cars, or indeed films, like that any more.
