I have very mixed feelings about this movie.
It is a reminder of a long-departed era of movie-making, when it was possible for dedicated professionals to craft a well-mounted historical picture like this out of minimal resources. The total budget of this movie probably wouldn't buy a single day of shooting today, but it still manages to look good. Only in the scenes in the music hall does the poverty show. The minimalist sets are cruelly exposed by over-emphatic lighting. Elsewhere it manages to be atmospheric and effective.
However, it is also a reminder of how ill-considered and pointless many of these minor movie projects once were. I doubt if anything as half-baked as this could come anywhere near to going into production today.
This movie simply doesn't know what it wants to be about. It starts as a mystery, with a writer (Karloff) investigating a 20 year-old murder case, convinced that the wrong man was hanged. In the course of his investigation, the real killer is identified - as the writer himself! This idea is good enough to sustain a whole movie, but here it is sprung on the audience after about half-an-hour.
With the mystery over, we suddenly find ourselves in a horror movie about a Jeckyll and Hyde like serial killer. After a few scary scenes of Karloff attacking women, the story changes tack again. Now the killer realises his true nature and desperately tries to convince others that he is a homicidal maniac who should be locked up. Nobody believes him but, in a completely unaccountable plot development, he is sent to a lunatic asylum anyway. He escapes and is finally shot.
With the movie lurching all over the place, there is still time for a couple of songs and a desultory love affair between two otherwise redundant characters.
This is a sequence of events, but not really a story.
Nonetheless, it holds the interest and retains a certain nostalgic charm. The saddest thing is simply the involvement of Boris Karloff. He was one of the greatest icons in the cinema, and yet here he is, at 70 years of age, lending his name to this negligible little movie - presumably because he still needed the work. The producer's commentary on the DVD suggests it was Karloff himself who first found the project and was pressing for it to be made, but that makes it seem all the sadder. As poor as it was, it was still better than anything else he was being offered at the time.
It is testimony to his honesty as an actor and a man that he never condescends to the material and gives it his best shot. As a result, both he and the movie emerge with some dignity.
Give this movie a view. There are many less rewarding ways of spending 80 minutes of your time. Admire the man and the performance even if, like me, you find yourself regretting that it was necessary for him to take work like this, rather than just settling for a well-earned retirement.
It is a reminder of a long-departed era of movie-making, when it was possible for dedicated professionals to craft a well-mounted historical picture like this out of minimal resources. The total budget of this movie probably wouldn't buy a single day of shooting today, but it still manages to look good. Only in the scenes in the music hall does the poverty show. The minimalist sets are cruelly exposed by over-emphatic lighting. Elsewhere it manages to be atmospheric and effective.
However, it is also a reminder of how ill-considered and pointless many of these minor movie projects once were. I doubt if anything as half-baked as this could come anywhere near to going into production today.
This movie simply doesn't know what it wants to be about. It starts as a mystery, with a writer (Karloff) investigating a 20 year-old murder case, convinced that the wrong man was hanged. In the course of his investigation, the real killer is identified - as the writer himself! This idea is good enough to sustain a whole movie, but here it is sprung on the audience after about half-an-hour.
With the mystery over, we suddenly find ourselves in a horror movie about a Jeckyll and Hyde like serial killer. After a few scary scenes of Karloff attacking women, the story changes tack again. Now the killer realises his true nature and desperately tries to convince others that he is a homicidal maniac who should be locked up. Nobody believes him but, in a completely unaccountable plot development, he is sent to a lunatic asylum anyway. He escapes and is finally shot.
With the movie lurching all over the place, there is still time for a couple of songs and a desultory love affair between two otherwise redundant characters.
This is a sequence of events, but not really a story.
Nonetheless, it holds the interest and retains a certain nostalgic charm. The saddest thing is simply the involvement of Boris Karloff. He was one of the greatest icons in the cinema, and yet here he is, at 70 years of age, lending his name to this negligible little movie - presumably because he still needed the work. The producer's commentary on the DVD suggests it was Karloff himself who first found the project and was pressing for it to be made, but that makes it seem all the sadder. As poor as it was, it was still better than anything else he was being offered at the time.
It is testimony to his honesty as an actor and a man that he never condescends to the material and gives it his best shot. As a result, both he and the movie emerge with some dignity.
Give this movie a view. There are many less rewarding ways of spending 80 minutes of your time. Admire the man and the performance even if, like me, you find yourself regretting that it was necessary for him to take work like this, rather than just settling for a well-earned retirement.