Hour of Decision

This is a fairly routine though watchable whodunit that is notable mainly for the nearly salacious-for-the-time talk about the womanizing habits of a gossip columnist who gets murdered. Oh yes, the ever enticing Hazel Court is present as a past amour of the now-dead rakish fellow who tries to avoid suspicion for his murder. Her husband investigates so as not to have his honey nabbed by the coppers. London locations make it watchable.

This whodunit gets off to a good start in Lionel Jeffries' nightclub as we're introduced to slippery, philandering, gossip columnist Gary Bax - Anthony Dawson, every bit as convincingly disreputable as he was in DIAL M FOR MURDER. He staggers out poisoned, and reporter Joe Saunders (Jeff Morrow) assists the police to track down the killer, knowing that their chief suspect is his wife Peggy (Hazel Court) who was being blackmailed by Bax over an earlier affair she'd had with him.

Strangely, chances are ignored to build much suspense around Peggy's predicament and the middle section falls rather flat as Joe and Carl Bernard's authoritative Inspector Gower interview a variety of suspects. The latter is one of the more interesting characters. "My parents had a twisted sense of humour, you won't get my first name out of me" he dryly remarks at one point. Shades of Morse. The plodding investigation and a singularly unconvincing denouement results in the film failing to fulfil its early promise. It's all put together with a certain style and sophistication however and will be enjoyed by those who appreciate British mystery films of the period, especially if they're fans of the glamorous Hazel Court.

Despite an impressive cast list, this British murder mystery is strictly hokum, a B-picture justly forgotten by modern audiences. It tells the tale of a ghastly gossip columnist - you know, like those ones who write for The Sun - who's murdered at a posh restaurant. An investigative journalist (American star Jeff Morrow, of THE GIANT CLAW fame) decides to solve the case by going through the suspects in turn.

About the only thing this production has going for it are the cast members. There's Hammer starlet Hazel Court, as winsome as ever as the journalist's beautiful wife. Anthony Dawson is the snide murder victim. Arthur Lowe pops up in a cameo, Marne Maitland is reduced to playing a waiter, and Lionel Jeffries bags a largish role too.

Unfortunately the rest of HOUR OF DECISION is strictly routine and the murder mystery itself is consistently boring, heavily indebted to the likes of Agatha Christie. It feels sluggish, especially at the climax where all the suspects gather in the club for a final reckoning. The production values are limited and there's no incident or atmosphere to speak of, leaving this completely missable.

Jeff Morrow was never the most engaging of screen stars, and here he is not really any different as he struggles to defend his accused wife "Peggy" (Hazel Court) from charges of the murder of a pretty odious gossip columnist. The only way he can do that is to find the real culprit, and so for seventy minutes we follow a rather well trammelled path in this not very mysterious mystery. Anthony Dawson chips in well as "Bax" (again, he only really had the one gear) and there are a few scenes with Lionel Jeffries before the denouement that, well, it was hardly a shock. It's nice to see Piccadilly Circus in the late 1950s as rationing was ending and Britain's was finally emerging from the austerity of WWII, but otherwise this is just one of those bog-standard crime thrillers that you watch and forget. The title doesn't really do it any favours either.

Apart from the first ten minutes, in which Andrew Dawson is a womanising gossip columnist. He is mesmerising and charismatic - and then he gets poisoned. There is a briefly interesting moment as Arthur Lowe plays a handwriting expert who just "knows" that some letters are written by the same person who made a sketch of Dawson on a cigarette packet. Dawson's wife is a "hysteric" - such a convenient label - who checks herself into a nursing home and hides behind a barrage of pill bottles.

The female cast wear some awful outfits, and supporting characters mumble - or else the sound is terrible. Half the dialogue is inaudible and I don't think I missed much.