I looked in vain for any directorial 'touches' that might justify the esteem is which Thorold Dickinson is held in some quarters. I found little beyond journeyman competence. I was, of course, watching for the first time in 2010 a film released in 1940 when a country at war would presumably be easier to please. I was particularly unhappy at the amount of 'back-story' we had to fill in ourselves. Yes, we did see the original murder (though not, of course, the murderer) and it was clear that Anton Walbrook was the murderer and equally clear that he had returned to the scene of the crime to search for the rubies for which he had resorted to murder in the first place but what was missing, and was to some extent crucial, was the whole story of his meeting his wife, courting and marrying her. The finest actor in the film by a country mile, Robert Newton, had less screen time than the inept Jimmy Hanley and there was no real motivation for Frank Pettingell to become so involved - Joseph Cotton had a far stronger motive in the shape of Ingrid Bergman in the remake. The whole thing is creaky and melodramatic with 'Tilly' Walbrook hamming it up as if auditioning for Charles Laughton's leftovers. Just about watchable.
Review of Gaslight
