Dir - Maurice Elvey
Overall: MEH
Possibly the earliest surviving Jack the Ripper talkie, The Lodger, (The Phantom Fiend), proceeds Alfred Hitchcock's lauded silent version The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog by five years. Sadly, it is an inferior interpretation of Marie Belloc Lowndes' 1913 novel of the same name; something that got the remake treatment several times over the decades. Director Maurice Elvey worked with three cinematographers here, which is ironic in that the results fail to be expressive. There are some occasional moments where London's fog-ridden streets are atmospherically represented, but the story itself fails to capitalize on both the gloomy setting and the grisly panic that was sweeping the city. Instead, this is mostly a humdrum romance between Ivor Novello and Elizabeth Allan who grow fond of each other despite the former being the title culprit of strangulation. Novello never comes off as opposing and is merely a stock and melodramatic actor in a stock and melodramatic part. The same goes for everyone else on screen who him and haw through their dialog, leaving little time for any ghastly bits or proper tension-mounting.
(1933)
Dir - George A. Cooper
Overall: MEH
An old dark house mystery with a clandestine blackmailing figure on the loose, The Shadow is a formulaic offering that balances light comedic banter with shady characters, fog, a police investigation, and its title villain providing some lurking menace. Most of the goofiness revolves around the top-billed Henry Kendall who jolly ole-chappies himself around like a stereotypical British dandy, awkwardly trying to propose for marriage, spinning a couple of yarns that no one is interested in, or trying to get to the bottom of the mystery since he fancies himself a smashing detective. Everyone else on screen besides the mysterious Shadow fellow are interchangeable; just reliable yet cut and paste actors who go through the motions in a movie whose script has a minimal amount of plot development to latch onto. After an opening where the killer leaves a damning clue behind once an undercover officer recognizes him, things unfortunately slow down to a crawl and this happens as soon as the characters arrive at the spacious, would-be creepy mansion. Cinematographer Sydney Blythe still manages to craft some atmosphere here or there, but not enough to sustain interest.
(1934)
Dir - Brian Desmond Hurst
Overall: MEH
Though it was not the first adaptation of an Edgar Allan Poe story, The Tell-Tale Heart, (Bucket of Blood), is recognized as the first talkie one and it is also the directorial debut form Brian Desmond Hurst. Sadly, it is a historical curiosity first and an engaging piece of celluloid far second, clocking in at under an hour yet feeling the weight of its meager run time. This is likely due to the amatuerish cast, Hurst's then inexperienced direction, and a low-end budget, all of which contributes to a flat presentation that is laborious to endure. There is some incidental music thrown in willy-nilly and it is ineffectively used, but the long stretches that are set to pin-drop silence also fail to convey any of the intimate spookiness of Universal's horror films from the era, by comparison. Walter Blakeley's cinematography occasionally instills some life into the proceedings, with some striking closeups, eyeballs drawn on a prison wall, and shots of dark hallways. Most of the movie though is just filmed on unassuming, fully-lit sets, which leaves the poor actors nothing to do but awkwardly meander around when not delivering their sparse dialog.
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