Le crime était presque parfait

This is certainly one of the most lushly photographed of all noirs. Hardly a set-up goes by without an eye-catching furbelow of one kind or another, thanks to cameraman Woody Bredell and Art Director Anton Grot. That's one main reason to catch up with this otherwise turgid 1947 release. Then too, except for the unfortunate Ted North, it's a stellar cast from the sleekly malevolent Rains to the coldly conniving Totter to the wittily sophisticated Bennett. However, I suspect that's one reason this richly endowed exercise failed to achieve classic status— just too many stars with too many lines that multiply subplots in a rather poorly thought-out storyline. There's simply not enough coherence and focus to generate the desired suspense of, say, a Rebecca (1940) or a Suspicion (1941), both of which the screenplay resembles. This results in a movie of bits and pieces, and a good chance to catch up with post-war high fashion. And catch that salvage yard from hell that turns up at the end, along with the behind-the-scenes glimpse of radio drama or what was then aptly called "the theater of the mind". Anyway, no movie with the commanding Claude Rains can afford to be passed up, here at his cultured and calculating best.

Michael Curtiz plays a sly game in The Unsuspected – a marvelous mystery that manages to preserve the venerable trappings of the English weekend-at-the-country-house murder (with some of the gimmickry that implies) while setting it amid a nest of Manhattan smart-mouths. He shows us who the murderer is in the first few minutes of the movie (and echoes his revelation several times) but does it so glancingly that it fails to register. And even if it did, The Unsuspected proves such a banquet of writing, acting and visual detail – such as the neon sign on a hotel in Peekskill flashing only its four last letters to a room inside – that it wouldn't be spoiled at all.

Looming shadows stalk through the baronial upstate manse of Victor Grandison (the ineffable Claude Rains), host of a wildly popular true-crime radio show. Next thing, his loyal secretary is hanging from a chandelier (an apparent suicide, but we know better). This ghastly occurrence doesn't faze the house's other occupants – his gold-digging niece (Audrey Totter) and her boozehound husband (Hurd Hatfield), possibly because Totter was on the phone with the victim as she uttered her last scream but never bothered to report it. Or it could be that everybody's still in shock over the loss of another niece (Joan Caulfield), who has perished in a ship's fire while crossing the Atlantic.

Into their lives strides a Mysterious Stranger (Ted North), claiming to be Caulfield's widower. He's received variously: Rains treats him with cordial suspicion, Hatfield with glum distaste (he had a thing for Caulfield, too) while Totter throws herself at him, `vibrating.' And then who should turn up, safe and reasonably sound, but Caulfield herself. The plot is admittedly a little complicated (made more so by the resemblance between North and Hatfield, with their bland, unhappy faces, and between Totter and Constance Bennett, who could pass as her older sister (playing the Eve Arden role of the wise-cracking spinster helpmate). But it's nothing that a few more homicides can't clear up....

With Casablanca and Mildred Pierce behind him, Curtiz was at the height of his powers for The Unsuspected, and Warners plainly gave him full rein for this lavish production. He's matched every step of the way by the wondrous Woody Bredell, who supplies richly detailed, always evocative cinematography (it's a smashing-looking movie). Nor does the script falter: Every line gleams with witty malice. Though Caulfield unfathomably gets top billing, she pales next to Rains and Totter in top form, with Bennett a close runner-up. The movie boasts just about everything.

Why, then, isn't it better known? Usually labeled film noir, it's really more of a high-style ‘40s sophisticated mystery, as was Otto Preminger's Laura (and, like Laura, it hinges on a beautiful young woman, presumed dead, who unexpectedly re-emerges). But while Laura receives reverent homage as an evergreen classic (`They don't make ‘em like that anymore'), The Unsuspected remains relatively unknown except to fans of the noir cycle. Yet it's every bit at good a movie – certainly no less plausible – and honed to an even finer level of elegance. Go figure.

To answer the question, "Who is the unsuspected?" the viewer must wait until the very end of the film. In reality, the unsuspected is revealed toward the beginning of the movie. So though there aren't any real surprises--this is not a mystery--there is a big helping of suspense and thrills along the way. The viewer also gets a glimpse of old time radio just before television took over. Victor "Grandi" Grandison (Claude Rains) is a big time radio personality whose main claim to fame is telling creepy, murder stories, read from a script he helped write, to a large radio audience. Several scenes take place during the broadcast inside the radio studio. The viewer gets to see all the hand signals and day to day activities involved in a live broadcast in those days. Many radio shows were transcribed (recorded on huge record discs) both for posterity and for possible re-broadcasts. Grandi makes these for nefarious purposes also. How they are made is shown in great detail.

With lines such as "We missed you while you were dead," this is one of the best film noir screenplays of the 1940's. One of the great femme fatales of the era, Audrey Totter as Althea Keane, gets some of the wittiest lines, which she delivers with élan. So listen carefully when she speaks. She dominates every scene she's in. The only one in the cast who comes close to her acting talents is Claude Rains. In some ways his part closely resembles the character he played the year before in the Hitchcock classic "Notorious," the master spy Alexander Sebastian. While Althea's husband, the tipsy Oliver (Hurd Hatfield), also shines, his role is fairly cut and dried with only brief appearances. The others in the cast are more than adequate, in particular Jack Lambert as Mr. Press, a violent, shady character who is blackmailed into doing dirty work for Grandi.

Michael Curtiz knowingly directs in noir fashion with crisp black and white photography surrounded by rainy, spooky nights making the audience believe that danger lurks in the shadows. Curtiz makes sure the film is fast-paced. There is even an exciting chase at the end involving Jack Lambert recklessly driving through traffic in a pickup truck, attempting to destroy evidence at the city dump before the motorcycle cops catch up with him.

The music blends in with the story. For example, when Grandi comes home unsuspected, his birthday party is in full swing. The piano man fills the room with "Someone To Watch Over Me." Grandi is unnerved by the tune and makes a snide remark to Matilda Frazier (Joan Caulfield) to the effect that he would like to fire the piano player. Neglected for years, critics and noir fans are just now discovering this intriguing movie.

'The Unsuspected's' main attraction was the cast, especially the rarely, if ever, less than great Claude Rains who is reason enough to watch any film on his own. Also the director Michael Curtiz, responsible for directing two of my favourite films 'The Adventures of Robin Hood' and particularly 'Casablanca'.

Loved 'The Unsuspected's' concept, the sort of film that has always been right up my alley, and it looked like it would be a little gem. Although it was not quite a gem, 'The Unsuspected' has a lot going for it and is a very good film sadly undervalued today, it deserves much more than relatively unknown status. It could have been better, but it is far from a waste of potential and the things that made me watch it in the first place don't disappoint.

It's not perfect. It does try to do too much in the plot, meaning that some parts are over-stuffed and convoluted. This sometimes hurts the plausibility.

Joan Caulfield also seemed a little bland to me in a slightly colourless role, but that is partly down to that the rest of the cast are stronger and their characters more interesting.

Especially true to this are Rains, who is as commanding and urbane as ever, and Audrey Totter on deliciously acidic form. Constance Bennett has the right touch of brittle and it was interesting to see Hurd Hatfield.

Curtiz directs with ease and control, never letting the pace let up, so the film is never dull and always absorbing despite some story flaws, and with great direction of the actors. It is a lavish-looking film and is rich in atmosphere and evocative mood. The action sequences are deft, especially the climax, the noir-ish suspense is nail-biting and the workings of radio aspects are very insightful. The script is always clever and literate, which is a big plus.

All in all, very good but could have been great. 7/10 Bethany Cox

One of the fine mystery thrillers from 40's and near the top of the film noir lists. The Unsuspected is a showcase for one of Hollywood's real accomplished actors of that era, Claude Rains. Though more widely remembered for "Casablanca", "Notorius", and "Mr. Skeffington," Rains gets to show off his versatility in a starring role. As the charming but malevolent lead, Rains comes up with a very professional turn as the respected radio announcer and suspect. Pairing with him is a "femme fatale" from that time, Joan Caulfield. The bosomy, sexy blonde is more convincing here than in the light comedies she played during her career. This film dates well and will keep your interest. It's one I would like to see once more. Any readers know where a VCR copy can be purchased?