Mere minutes have passed and the film already makes an impression of being both very direct (dialogue, plot development, scene writing, pacing), and very unbothered about itself, with acting, delivery, and direction that doesn't do well in trying to convey the import of what's going on. This feat of duality is almost impressive since the narrative begins with a murder and the sinking of a passenger cruise. Whether one wishes to assume deficiencies of the production, or prints that had degraded before digital preservation, such sensibilities aren't aided by muddled sound design and less than pristine image quality. Setting these matters aside, the scene writing, dialogue, and plot development are also decidedly unconvincing even on paper, with ideas being introduced as weakly as they possibly could be. Before even one-third of the runtime has elapsed we're already greeted with a few different moments that can only inspire quizzical skepticism, to the point that the storytelling in and of itself struggles to attain basic suspension of disbelief. Sadly, the picture never improves: 1933's 'The intruder' is a dud that sunk as surely and quickly as its ship.
Languid, passive, flimsy, half-hearted, dubious, middling, and soporific, nothing of significance comes off well in this feature. Frances Hyland's writing, Albert Ray's direction, and the acting of all are downright floundering, if not altogether bewildering. I can't tell if this is intended to be a comedy or a drama, but it doesn't matter, because it's terrible on both counts. In fairness, the crew behind the scenes did good work, on the sets in particular. The most commendable aspect of the entire movie might be the editing, with some transitions that seem advanced for 1933 - "might" is the key word, however, for the novelty is overused. Meanwhile, there comes a time when the plot becomes rather scattered and unfocused, and I wonder if even those involved knew what was going on. Characters are so poorly written, bereft of substance, that 'The intruder' may as well have been a radio play instead of a film. Best of all, however, is that the vast majority of this picture, gawky and flailing as it is, is pointlessly extraneous: within the first five minutes, we can also easily guess the reveal of the killer at the end.
Some of the best movies ever made hail from the 1920s or 30s, but 'The intruder' is apt demonstration that age is no guarantee of value, for this stinks to high heaven from the very start to the very end. I can safely say that I have seen worse pictures, though at this level, the distinction is meaningless. That the thin plot is so feebly crafted, plumbing the deepest depths, serves to distract from other rickety elements of the production, but that is absolutely no compliment. What else to say? You don't need to watch this. No one does.
