Jack el destripador

This is a great Victorian melodrama. Everything about this film is superb. The late Laird Cregar is just outstanding in the title role and Merle Oberon has never looked lovelier It's funny how you can see a film when you are about twelve years old and it sticks in your brain because it is so good and this one is one of the best. I highly recommend this film.

The legendary true story of 19th century London's "Jack the Ripper" has been told countless times in TV and film. Here, the facts are augmented into more of a character study and an observation of the perceptions and suspicions from people when confronted by a person who is decidedly "different". This remake of a silent Hitchcock film focuses on the title character Cregar, an unusual, detached man who takes rooms in an affluent household at the same time that a deranged killer is carving up local "actresses" (1940's censorship disallowed the portrayal of what the victims were in real life -- prostitutes.) One ironic, but unlikely, twist is that once Cregar takes the rooms, it is discovered that a prominent local actress (Oberon) is living in the home as well! Oberon and her aunt Allgood and uncle Hardwicke become increasingly suspicious of the new lodger as he slinks out late at night, burns certain possessions of his and gets sweaty and unnerved at the mere mention of actresses. Is he The Ripper or does he have some similarly-themed problem which will cause him to be thought of as The Ripper even though he isn't? This is basically the thrust of the tale (stunted occasionally by some amusingly awkward musical moments from Oberon and her voice-double.) The fog machine was working overtime during this film and it almost covers up the fact that this was filmed on a backlot. Still, there's enough atmosphere to give the movie some sense of the time and place. Oberon is stunning to behold in a parade of ornate gowns and hairstyles, her unique face lit well by the man she would soon marry and her graceful manner at it's peak. Sanders has little of interest to do as a police inspector who finds time to try to woo her while the body count racks up. As the aunt and uncle, Allgood (especially) and Hardwicke provide delightful, thoroughly solid performances. The most memorable aspect of the film, however, is the startling performance of Cregar and the innovative ways in which he is filmed and lit. (The camera setups, at various times, are leagues ahead of other films being done during this period.) There is an eerie extra light on Cregar when he isn't in silhouette. He gives such a vivid, stark performance (at times literally breathing down the viewers' necks!) that, once seen, he is unlikely to be forgotten. Fortunately, at 84 minutes, the film doesn't overstay its welcome and provides a nice bit of creepy entertainment. Even at this length there are some slightly unnecessary and dull interludes among the townsfolk, but for the most part, the film works. Though the violence is, by now, so tame as to be nonexistent, the menace of the killer is still effective and occasionally very creepy. (Some modern slasher films like 1981's "The Fan" drew obvious inspiration from this one.) Cregar, who died of a heart attack after quickly shedding 100 pounds in order to change his image, is an actor whose screen presence ran circles around many of his contemporaries. That he died so young (he was 28 years old in this film!) and before seeing his full potential realized is one of Hollywood's great losses.

It's London's autumn of terror – 1888 – when Jack the Ripper stalked the slums of Whitechapel to eviscerate gin-soaked prostitutes and shake the capital of the British Empire to its foundations. John Brahm's movie opens on the gas-lit and fog-wreathed cobblestones, evocatively shot by Lucien Ballard, in this umpteenth recension of Marie Belloc Lowndes' evergreen chiller The Lodger (Alfred Hitchcock did a silent treatment in 1927, and Jack Palance would star in Man in the Attic in 1954 , to name but two of its closest cousins).

The crafty Mrs. Lowndes may have been the first to use that surefire scare tactic `the call is coming from inside the house!' The gimmick of her story is that the fiend has a respectable face and may have taken lodgings under a respectable roof while its respectable occupants remain oblivious but imperiled.

Brahm's choice of lodger is Laird Cregar, whose enormous bulk – he was six-three and 300 pounds – made him look perpetually 45, though he was only 28 when he died, shortly after making this movie. (His last, released posthumously the following year, was the somewhat similar Hangover Square, which Brahm also directed). The rooms he takes (including an attic `laboratory' complete with gas fire for his experiments) belong to Cedric Hardwicke and Sara Allgood, whose niece Merle Oberon, a music-hall star, lives there as well.

When Laird is invited to attend one of Oberon's can-can numbers, he rants and raves about painted and powdered woman and finally erupts: `I can show you something more beautiful than a beautiful woman,' whereupon he produces a photograph of his dead brother, who came to ruin through consorting with wicked women (there's the merest insinuation of syphilitic insanity). Clearly, the lodger has unresolved issues.

The Ripper legend and Lowndes' telling of it are so familiar it needs no retracing, save to note that George Sanders plays the smitten Scotland Yard Detective and that Brahm delivers all the expected chills. But then this German emigrant always fared better with the spooky and the Victorian than with the hard-boiled and American. The Lodger counts among his finer hours-and-a-half.

This is the first HOLLYWOOD lensing of the Jack The Ripper tale (Alfred Hitchcock choos ehtis material for his first film thriller in 1926, and there was a rather talky British remake in 1932) The film is a testimony to a great actor, Laird Cregar. He plays a tenant in a rooming house set in the middle of the Ripper murder sites. Cregar gives a wonderful performance, looking trapped when Scotland Yard detective George Sanders (always a treat) is around, or when his landlord's lovely niece (played by the beautiful Merle Oberon) is nearby. The best performance Cregar gives when all is closing in on him. Director John Brahm's camera catches him in close-up, savoring every bead of paniced sweat. Sadly, since Cregar was vastly over weight, only sinister roles came his way. Trying to crash diet, he died of a heart attack at the youthful age of 28. Had he lived, we would seen him become a more famous actors, taking roles probably well into the 1990's.

A tight, terse little black and white film about.....well, about Jack the Ripper. Prostitute victims are transformed into actresses for the film (and obviously for the Code) but it follows somewhat the modus operandi of Jack. You never see the violence, it is only implied and that works for this film.

Laird Cregar is absolutely marvelous as the strange, sweating lodger who may or may not be the murderer. He was perfect for the part, with those great, brooding eyes. Sadly, he died at a very early age.....he could have gone on to greater things. Merle Oberon is lovely, of course, but in the real world she certainly would have not made it on the musical stage....can't sing (obviously dubbed), can't dance,...but that's irrelevant in the scheme of things. George Sanders, that most wonderful gentleman, doesn't get to be too suave in his part as the Scotland Yard inspector, but he is, as he always was, very good. And who could ever fault Sara Allgood, as Oberon's aunt......she never gave a bad performance in her long career.....just marvelous. This film is worth watching and you will agree that Laird Cregar is as good as it gets playing a very edgy man with some big problems!!