In 1942, I expect the studios tossed off productions like this like cars on an assembly line. But don't let that fool you. Assembly line product or no, this is an atmospheric and expertly acted 90 minutes from Columbia Pictures, with that great unsung actress of the period Ida Lupino, supported by two of the daffiest character actresses of the day, Elsa Lanchester and the wild-eyed Edith Barrett.
And what a wacky production it is. Adapted from a stage play, everything takes place on a single foggy sound stage. But that's okay because it's a Gothic thriller with lots of shadowy interiors and dark secrets inside a big old house. Lupino's cursed with two ditzy sisters and, by golly, she's going to take care of them come what may. It's this unbending family loyalty that finally lends Lupino's role an uncommon measure of dramatic pathos. Watch her with her tightly wrapped hairdo and stiff-necked manner. It's like she's taken a solemn oath to defend her pathetic sisters, and she's going to do it, no matter the sacrifice, unlike the bounder Louis Hayward who takes advantage of the situation only to enrich himself. But it's really the girlish Barrett, an obscure RKO actress, who steals the show-- all innocence and wide-eyed enthusiasm over the least little thing. No wonder, Lupino takes extreme protective measures.
Stylish director Charles Vidor does a lot with the slender material. Just consider the single, fog-bound set that could have become impossibly static. But Vidor keeps things moving and our attention with it. Then too, he knows how to use the Louis Hayward character to liven up the Gothic solemnity. What's also notable is that neither the screenplay nor Vidor takes the easy way out by vilifying the flighty Mrs. Fiske (Isobel Elsom). She's ultimately as sympathetic as Lupino. I kept wondering what Hitchcock would have done with the material since the theme and characters are right up his alley. Be that as it may, this is one of the many by-passed gems from the studios' golden age, and deserves rediscovery on its own many merits.
And what a wacky production it is. Adapted from a stage play, everything takes place on a single foggy sound stage. But that's okay because it's a Gothic thriller with lots of shadowy interiors and dark secrets inside a big old house. Lupino's cursed with two ditzy sisters and, by golly, she's going to take care of them come what may. It's this unbending family loyalty that finally lends Lupino's role an uncommon measure of dramatic pathos. Watch her with her tightly wrapped hairdo and stiff-necked manner. It's like she's taken a solemn oath to defend her pathetic sisters, and she's going to do it, no matter the sacrifice, unlike the bounder Louis Hayward who takes advantage of the situation only to enrich himself. But it's really the girlish Barrett, an obscure RKO actress, who steals the show-- all innocence and wide-eyed enthusiasm over the least little thing. No wonder, Lupino takes extreme protective measures.
Stylish director Charles Vidor does a lot with the slender material. Just consider the single, fog-bound set that could have become impossibly static. But Vidor keeps things moving and our attention with it. Then too, he knows how to use the Louis Hayward character to liven up the Gothic solemnity. What's also notable is that neither the screenplay nor Vidor takes the easy way out by vilifying the flighty Mrs. Fiske (Isobel Elsom). She's ultimately as sympathetic as Lupino. I kept wondering what Hitchcock would have done with the material since the theme and characters are right up his alley. Be that as it may, this is one of the many by-passed gems from the studios' golden age, and deserves rediscovery on its own many merits.