(1944)
Dir - John Brahm
Overall: MEH
Marie Belloc Lowndes's 1913 novel The Lodger had already been made twice by the time that 20th Century Fox took a crack at it and the Jack the Ripper subject matter in and of itself would be brought to the screen dozens of times over the decades. The angle for this particularly take is that there is zero mystery as to who the killer and ergo Ripper is, since the lodger of the title clearly fits that bill from the moment that we meet him. Laird Cregar's aloof performance helps, being a hulking presence with a soft-spoken demeanor and eccentric habits that the audience will catch on to before the other characters do. Thankfully George Sanders is also along for the ride as the police inspector who is trying to track Cregar down, with his sly, distinguished persona in tow. Because 1944 when the Production Code was in full swing, there are hardly any grisly bits and few murders in general, leaving things to go the overly-chatty route instead. Director John Brahm keeps things moving as much as he is able to though and Lucien Ballard's cinematography does the fog-ridden London setting proud, with some imposing camera angles thrown in for good measure.
(1946)
Dir - Philip Ford
Overall: MEH
Republic Pictures sure knew how to churn-out a talky, brisk, and stiff B-movie on the cheap and the wrongly-titled Valley of the Zombies easily falls into their lot. The second movie from director Philip Ford, it introduces a mysterious and spooky bad guy early on, (played with a level of macabre showmanship by Ian Keith), who is both kind of a zombie and kind of a vampire, though the four people involved with coming up with the story seemed either incapable or disinterested in distinguishing the specifics. He allegedly died on the operating table and now needs blood transfusions to survive after studying voodoo, so it certainly sounds like its cliches were simply drawn from a hat. In any event, the script has some quick banter between its acceptable cast, but there sure is a lot of it in place of ghoulish moments. The tone bounces between sinister and cutesy, but not in a distracting manner and Ford fails to interject any quirky details in the way that say James Whale would have done to make things more interesting. Too sluggish to recommend even at fifty-five minutes in length, but it is still some harmless almost-fun.
(1948)
Dir - Anatole Litvak
Overall: GOOD
A cinematic adaptation of Lucille Fletcher's 1943 stage play of the same name by Ukrainian-born director Anatole Litvak, Sorry, Wrong Number fuses film noir motifs with some twisty thriller ones, all with a catchy jumping off point where Barbara Stanwyck hears what sounds like two men planning a murder over a crossed phone line. This alarming incident kicks off a stream of flashbacks that pile on the convoluted details involving her bored and ambitious husband, her controlling millionaire father, and doctors, lawyers, exes, and other shady individuals who lead everything to a distraught and bleak climax that is worth the strain of keeping all of the pieces straight. Stanwyck turns in a melodramatic tour de force performances as an obnoxious and spoiled woman with no emotional capabilities to deal with her situation and Burt Lancaster is solid as always, this time as an emasculated man who bites off more than he can chew in his ill-fated plan to get free from his father in law's wide-reaching influence. Like most expressive noir, the cinematography is a major component and Sol Polito keeps the camera moving accordingly, creating a sense of claustrophobia when tensions peak, as well as pulling back to zone in on tasty details.
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