Home at Seven

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.

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

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.

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.

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.