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Ralph Richardson, who both directs and acts in this film, has taken a simple story that depicts a short period in the life of a middle-class couple in post-war England whose routine is suddenly disrupted by the memory lapse of the husband. The story is brought to life by the acting of the three main actors - Richarson and Margaret Leighton as the couple and the medical doctor, Jack Hawkins.

A veteran of World War II (1939-45), the dutiful husband is stricken with an anxiety attack that causes him to relive his days in battle. When this mental episode is over, he cannot remember what happened for a full 24-hour period. Husband and wife are perplexed and anxious by this sudden turn of events. They turn to their understanding family doctor for an explanation. The doctor, Jack Hawkins, is sympathetic and not overly worried but eager to find out the source of the problem.

As it turns out, a theft and murder occurred that seem to implicate the husband or so the couple fears. Lies and cover-ups complicate the matter and the couple become so upset that they make things worse for themselves. The couple are so used to their routine that a sudden and unexplained twist becomes exaggerated. The story presents us with a puzzle and the reaction of two decent but somewhat docile human beings, who feel they will be unfairly targeted by the authorities. However, the police go about their work very calmly and before long everything is explained.

The movie is a throwback to a time when ordinary people enjoyed simple pleasures like going to their club, or taking in the "pictures" and growing their chrysanthemums in the adjoining greenhouse garden...so very British.

It is these very ordinary people that I have a great sympathy and admiration for in our often self-serving world. Nothing extraordinary about the movie or the couple but almost 60 years on, the acting still makes it a delight to watch.

This truly enjoyable film portrays the frustrations of a mild mannered clerk embroiled in a mystery that has occurred outside of his memory. Most entertaining is Ralph Richardson, perfectly cast a the staid, banker living a life of ritualistic routine that has been turned upside down. He has that natural gift of absolute clear speech - even in the most dramatic moments and is a pleasure to watch. His reparte with the investigating inspector is most engaging. To bad this movie is unavailable on video.

Though this movie ought to be mainly credited to Ralph Richardson as actor and director, his contribution is totally overshadowed by the performances of the late Margaret Leighton and the late Jack Hawkins.

Ms Leighton, playing the loving wife, is eye candy and exhibits her talent for acting (contrast her negative roles in Ford's "The 7 Women" and Hitchcock's "Under Capricorn" and the wonderful, unusual role in Forbes' "The Madwoman of Chaillot".) Mr Hawkins is equally wonderful to watch.

Otherwise as a film, it is average entertainment--a film on post-war PTSD made decades before the disorder came into the limelight.

Very slow to gain momentum, but once it does it chugs along at an acceptable pace. Richardson may be an impeccable Shakespearean actor, but on the big screen he is far less convincing. Leighton excels as the dutiful wife who will do anything for her suffering husband. Of course we laugh at those traits in this modern age of feminism, but what a comfort dutiful wives must have been for men of that era. The plot is very predictable and somewhat rigid given the base cause: (amnesia), but it is handled very well by the direction of Richardson that you could be excused for mistaking it for a Hitchcock movie. All in all, an enjoyable film.

This is certainly one of the most accurate portrayals on film of what psychologists call a 'fugue state', which is a dissociative disorder of human consciousness caused by a mental trauma. In this story, a perfectly ordinary bank executive played by Ralph Richardson experiences amnesia for a 24-hour period of his life, with disastrous consequences. Every evening, after leaving his job in the City of London, Richardson takes the train from Cannon Street Station and arrives home in the suburbs at seven. One Tuesday, he arrives home at seven to find his wife, played brilliantly by Margaret Leighton, in a terrible state of anxiety bordering on hysteria. She asks him where he has been, why he did not come home the night before, why was he not at work at the bank all day, and she informs him that she called the police and reported him missing. He is incredulous and says that she is talking nonsense, that here he is precisely at seven as always, and it is Monday, not Tuesday. But she shows him the newspaper and proves that it is really Tuesday. Thus the story begins, and everything becomes increasingly desperate and harrowing from there on. This is the first and only film directed by Ralph Richardson, and he has done a superb job of it. He received expert support from cameramen Jack Hildyard and Ted Scaife, with camera operator Denys Coop, and Assistant Director Guy Hamilton, all of whom later became famous. Although the film is not showy and does not have dramatic lighting and editing, the emphasis is on the story and the actors, which creates a considerable intensity, as the performances are all so good. The doctor who attempts to sort out Richardson's 'missing day' is expertly played by Jack Hawkins, who was always one of the most reliable as well as agreeable of British actors, whether as a lead or in a supporting role, as here. The reason why this film is so convincing and so accurate in its portrayal of this psychological condition is that it is based upon a play by R. C. Sheriff. Sheriff is chiefly famous for his play JOURNEY'S END, which was filmed in 1930 and subsequently three more times. It is a gripping film about the trenches of the First World War, based on Sheriff's own Army experiences prior to his being invalided out after the Battle of Ypres. (It is a superb film. I taped it off the air years ago but gave my tape to John Mills, who asked me for it because he wanted to see it again, as he had been touring in that play as a young man when he met his wife in Shanghai because she and her father Colonel Hayley Bell attended a performance, and it was love at first sight. He thus considered that in a way he owed his happy marriage to R. C. Sheriff.) Sheriff had a direct and personal experience of such matters as shell shock and the fugue states caused by battle trauma, which he put to good use in HOME AT SEVEN, since the explanation of Richardson's fugue state is eventually found to be because he heard a sound like a gunshot, which snapped him into a dissociative state where he imagined he was again under attack in the War. The story was filmed again for television by the BBC five years later, in 1957, with Peter Cushing in the lead. Sheriff's expertise at writing convincing stories about strange mental states was shown in the film THE NIGHT MY NUMBER CAME UP (1955). That is a film I know a great deal about indeed, as it is based upon a real paranormal experience of my close friend Air Marshal Sir Victor Goddard (who made a speech at my wedding), with whom I discussed both the experience and the film on many occasions. Sir Victor believed Sheriff had done a very good job of portraying his story in dramatic form, and that was Sheriff's great strength. He also wrote the famous ODD MAN OUT (1947) with James Mason, and he adapted the two excellent Somerset Maugham story compilation films, QUARTET (1948) and TRIO (1950). And of course he did the screenplays for the classics THE INVISIBLE MAN (1933), GOODBYE, MR. CHIPS (1939), and THE DAM BUSTERS (1955). He really was a giant of British stage and screen, and deserves to be better remembered. He died in 1975. This film does a first rate job of putting the story across, in a state of high anxiety and suspense. It turns out that for all the years of his marriage, Richardson had been telling a little white lie to his wife by saying he left work at 6, whereas he really left work at 5 and stopped off in the back room of a pub run by friends (as pubs only opened at 6) for a friendly and very tame sherry, and a game of darts. He didn't care to tell his wife lest he offend her, as she 'disapproved of alcoholic drinks'. This is Richardson's one guilty secret, surely the tamest one ever featuring as a major plot element in a suspense film! But because of it, no one can figure out where Richardson was for his 24 lost hours, and he is wrongly suspected of theft and murder. This film should be shown to psychology students at universities. I have made a considerable study of dissociative psychological states, and I can assure everyone that every detail of this film is accurate, clearly because it is based upon a real case or cases known to Sheriff, and possibly even others known to Richardson, thus perhaps explaining Richardson's strange enthusiasm for the story. It is always better when films about psychological cases such as amnesia and dissociation of personality are based upon facts, for then they are convincing and effective, as this is.

A long forgotten British film, that has David Preston ( Ralph Richardson) as a lowly bank clerk, who returns home, as usual, only to be told by his wife, that he has been missing for 24 hours.

He slowly starts to come to terms with what has happened, only to find out that the steward of his local club has been murdered, and that he has been implicated. Margaret Leighton as his wife, and Campbell Singer,as the police inspector give good support. I find these films from 40's and 50's fascinating, as they show a way of life that has long since disappeared.

"Home at Seven " (aka, Murder on Monday) is a smashingly good mystery drama. This is such a different plot, that I don't want to take away the surprise of the film by even doing a review with spoilers. I suspect that those who enjoy very good mysteries would not want even an inkling of how this story plays out. Others may want to read another review that has spoilers or reveals some of the details.

But for my contribution here, I'll just say that this is a superb British mystery drama with a cast that includes some of England's best actors of the time. Besides starring as David Preston, Ralph Richardson directed this wonderful film. It was his only such venture behind the camera. Margaret Leighton is his wife, Janet. Jack Hawkins plays Dr. Sparling, Michael Shepley is Major Watson, Meriel Forbes is Peggy Dobson, and Campbell Singer is Inspector Hemingway.

This is a fine film that shows superb acting in dramas sans police chases, running from the law, hiding out, and other actions. The film is based on a play by the title, "Home at Seven," by R. C. Sherriff.

The film is a good reminder that a lie usually leads to misery for the one who tells it. Or, put more poignantly, the truth never hurts anyone.

Ralph Richardson stars (he also directs) as a man with a problem. He comes home from work one Monday night and finds his wife (Margaret Leighton) in a tizzy. It seems it's actually Tuesday and he's been missing for more than 24 hours. As the plot unfolds, we also learn that funds from a social club he's in are missing and that the bookkeeper has been killed. Hmmm. Richardson has a memory blackout and cannot account for his actions.

Luckily in 1952, we were a kinder world (at least in the movies) and a kindly physician (Jack Hawkins) patiently helps him remember events. An equally patient and kind police inspector (Campbell Singer) also helps him sift through the facts and clues. Amid all this patience, his neighbor and club president (Michael Shepley) is only too glad to jump to conclusions. But patient wife Leighton remains staunch.

As the mystery is unraveled, we find that Richardson is not exactly the man we all thought he was, but that he, like all of us, has a few secrets. Late in the film, Meriel Forbes as Peggy arrives on the doorstep and reveals a few things about Richardson. She also steals the film.

I like and respect Ralph Richardson as much as the next film-viewer, but the plaudits his acting receives in many of the reviews of this film on here are simply astonishing. His acting in this film is just awful - it might well have been passable when he did it on stage like this, but transferred to the far-more-realistic medium of film it appears stilted, clichéd and hammy. Margaret Leighton is decently good by the standards of the era, and Jack Hawkins is unsurprisingly his ultra-reliable self - a top-notch actor by any standards whatsoever. The direction, etc., makes it look not-too-stagey for what is still, obviously, a stage-play.

It's not uncommon for actors to direct themselves in films but many do it only once, perhaps because they believe in a project, either as vehicle for themselves or just as a vehicle worth bringing to the screen. In 1952 Ralph Richardson felt the need to direct a film of R. C. Sherriff's play "Home at Seven" casting himself as the bank clerk who has a 24 hour memory lapse and then finds himself inplicated in a murder.

It's a good plot and if Richardson handles it in a somewhat theatrical fashion he, at least, draws first-rate performances from his cast while he is outstanding as the clerk. After Olivier, I've always felt Richardson was the finest of the theatrical knights to make it in the movies and he doesn't disappoint here. It's a wonderful performance and Margaret Leighton and Jack Hawkins are just as good as his fretting wife and the doctor who tries to help him. The plot itself may be a little far-fetched but the treatment is excellent making this one of the best and certainly one of the most underrated British films of the period.

David Preston (Ralph Richardson) arrives home from work on Monday night just as he always does - or so he thinks. He's shaken when he learns that it's really Tuesday night and he cannot account for the last 24 hours. He's doubly troubled to learn that a man he didn't care for was murdered and a witness swears that Preston was the last person seen talking to the man. Can Preston rediscover the lost day and clear his name?

Overall, Murder on Monday (or Home at Seven) is a delightful little film. I enjoyed almost every second. There are two things I can point to that make this film stand out - the acting and the writing. Richardson is perfect as the man trying to discover what's happened to him. You can see the confusion etched across his face. He's joined by the lovely Margaret Leighton as his wife, Janet. I can't explain how much I enjoyed her performance. From the fretting over her husband to the joy she expresses when there appears to be some good news, she's divine. Together, the pair make the perfect on-screen couple. The scene where Preston, over tea and toast, tries to tell Janet how to carry on if something should happen to him is a great example of their on-screen chemistry. They are ably joined by Jack Hawkins, Campbell Singer, and Meriel Forbes in supporting roles. As for the writing, well, I've already used this word, but Anatole de Grumwald's screenplay is simply delightful. The story was intriguing and suspenseful enough that it held my attention throughout. The little pieces of the mystery that point to Preston's guilt unfold nicely. And the solution to the mystery wasn't so far-fetched that I couldn't buy into it. It's a solid piece of writing.

Not only did he star, but this the sole directing credit from Richardson's long career. I'm really shocked because I thought he did a fantastic job. Murder on Monday could easily feel "stagey", but Richardson kept things moving at a nice pace. I never once got that claustrophobic feeling you can get from such a small set. And the movie looks amazing. I was so impressed with little things like some of the shots through windows out to the street. Nice stuff.

8/10

I wonder how much dialogue you can squeeze into an 80 minute movie. "Home At Seven" tries its darnedest to break the record, in a film that is long on discussions but short on action.

It starts with a great idea. A man comes home from work, to discover that he has missed an entire day, during which a murder has been committed. So far, so good. But I found out that it is almost possible to talk a good idea to death, as there follows an endless collection of discussions, confrontations, meetings and heart to heart talks. Now, I understand that in such a situation explanations must be in order, but the whole movie began to seem like a 3 hour ordeal.

Ralph Richardson is the hapless husband and Margaret Leighton is wonderful as his devoted wife. Jack Hawkins is their doctor-friend and all three principals try their best to move things along. Granted, it is a clever concept and ultimately brought to a surprise ending, but it's not a good sign when you keep checking your watch throughout the picture.

But it is well worth a look, especially if you have more patience than myself.

"Home at Seven" is the one and only film that Ralph Richardson directed. I would hazard a guess that at the last moment the original director was unavailable and someone suggested to Sir Ralph that he try his hand.

You would be hard pressed to find a cinematically more bland, not to mention boring film that this. There is no use at all of lighting or camera movement to enhance to plot, (which certainly could do with some enhancement). It's tantamount to watching a radio play.

True there are three top actors at work in Richardson, Margaret Leighton and Jack Hawkins. But it's all so pedestrian that even they hardly make this one to look out for.

Just having Ralph Richardson in the cast can elevate any movie. He is always so authentic. His performances are nuanced and excellent. He makes this tale more believable than many other actors might have. The viewer is drawn into the story and caused to really want to know: what on earth happened in those missing 24 hours?

Ralph Richardson, a quintessentially British actor, both directs and takes the lead role as David Preston, a relatively low/middle-ranking employee of a bank - though, seemingly earning enough to buy an attractive character cottage/semi in Bromley - stereotypically takes the same train to work and returns home at the same time, each day.

His attractive wife (Margaret Leighton) is hysterical on a Tuesday evening, when she proves to his disbelief, that he has not been home - or at work - for a day.

It transpires that a murder has taken place and money stolen from the social club he is treasurer of - and when his fake alibi is uncovered, he becomes the prime suspect.

The extraordinary class attitudes of the time are clearly evident: 'he's a good type, one of us...not a CRIMINAL! ' The police inspector suggests one of us, can still be one of them.

Preston's amnesia and the suggestivity of the inspector lead him to believe he has committed murder - especially when it transpires he has underlying financial problems.

There's a touching scene when he prepares his wife for life without him, suggesting her sister joins her at the house and they open a nursery.

The denouement is not very dramatic - but far better than a sudden suicide based on misplaced associative guilt.

We rarely see thoughtful plays or films like this these days, yes, it's low key - but some people, like David Preston, live low key lives.

Jack Hawkins is good as the sympathetic doctor and the blunt Major across the road, whilst something of a caricature, with a 'disgusted from Tunbridge Wells' attitude, enjoys good interplay with Preston, the doctor and the police.

The overall standard of acting is excellent. The mangle in the kitchen, cigarette smoking and traditional Dixon of Dock Green police station remind us of the era. Just in case we'd forgotten.

As David Preston did.

It starts with the overused but intriguing convenient amnesia episode, with Dave, a man who arrives home after an ordinary day of work at the bank, only to discover that he has lost a full 24 hours. His loving wife on the brink of despair tells him that he left Monday morning as usual, only to come back Tuesday evening.

From then on the plot develops in the most verbose way. Dave, the bank clerk is visited by a sympathetic doctor at home and advised to take a day off, then on Wednesday morning he discovers that a murder was committed on Monday night and he could be the guilty part.

There follows a hundred explanations between Dave and his wife, Dave and his neighbour, Dave and the police inspector and more with the doctor, a lawyer and so on. A very un-cinematic movie, due to the fact that it was a theatrical release (I think I read somewhere) but could as well have been a radio play, with little tension, despite the good premise and the excellent cast.