Dear Murderer

Dear Murderer is directed by Arthur Crabtree and collectively adapted to screenplay by Muriel Box, Sydney Box and Peter Rogers from the play by St. John Leigh Clowes. It stars Eric Portman, Greta Gynt, Dennis Price, Maxwell Reed, Jack Warner, Hazel Court and Jane Hylton. Out of Gainsborough Pictures, music is by Benjamin Frankel and cinematography by Stephen Dade.

Lee Warren (Portman), consumed by jealousy over his wife's unfaithfulness, believes he has executed the perfect murder, however, he hadn't bargained on another one of his wife's lovers entering the fray. But sensing a great opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, he executes another cunning plan…

Perhaps he's Adolf Hitler in disguise? He's about the right height.

A wonderfully twisty British thriller, Dear Murderer enjoys giving off a whiff of unpleasantness as it enthrals from the get go. Classic Brit staples are in place for this type of thriller, a vengeful man, harlot woman, intrepid copper and male suitors caught in a trap. Construction is as such, that it's initially hard to actually get on side with any of the principal characters, but one of the film's many delights is in how it constantly alters the trajectory of sympathy towards the actual murderer! It helps as well that the story doesn't rest on its laurels, this is not merely about one murder, and about one man trying to get away with that murder, it's about more than that. There's a lot of talking going on, but it's all relevant to actions that are soon to follow, so when the flip-flops arrive, we are fully prepared and immersed in the devilish goings on.

Arthur Crabtree (Madonna of the Seven Moons) is something of an unsung director from the British classic era, where often he has been termed workmanlike and steady. Yet he was able to make much suspense and atmosphere from the most basic of set-ups. He also was a good director of actors, as evidenced here with the performances he gets out of Portman (calm, calculated and cunning) and Gynt (a wonderful slinky femme fatale dressed up to the nines). While in conjunction with photographer Dade (Zulu), he puts period Gothic noir tints on proceedings, especially on the exteriors where darkness, shadows and gaslights imbues murky machinations of plot. There's a big leap of faith required to accept one critical turn of events entering the home straight, but ultimately the finale is not damaged by it, for here a black heart beats strong. Splendid. 8/10

...that is what the lead/murderer is in this film. I'll explain.

Lee Warren has to go to America on a prolonged business trip. While in the US he sees a social page of the paper and there is his wife - who hasn't written him very much - dancing and out on the town with a barrister. He comes back to England without tipping off his wife and manages to kill her lover yet make it look like suicide - he uses gas. As he is cleaning up after the murder who pops into the dead man's flat but his wife and ANOTHER man. It turns out that the now dead barrister was right. His wife did have other lovers, and this lover in particular, Jimmy Martin, is somebody she wants to marry. Turns out she considers it over with the now dead barrister. Has Lee killed in vain?

Well, not exactly. He figures he can try to make this suicide look TOO obvious, get the police to believe it is what it really is - murder covered up to look like suicide - and frame Jimmy Martin in the process.

Well, this is all going swimmingly except for two things. One, the inspector on the crime, Penbury, played by the great Jack Warner - no not THAT Jack Warner - is suspicious about how neatly everything is sewn up. The second thing is that Lee Warren, for all his caution and care as a murderer, is really a fool for love when it comes to his wife. He confesses all to her when they are alone and says he told her just so he could watch her suffer. But then she leaves so he can't watch her suffer, and when she returns days later she says she has decided she loves Lee after all, but he just CAN'T let Jimmy, both innocent and of no longer any interest to her, die for a crime he did not commit. He must find a way to get Jimmy off and yet not confess himself. And the poor slob believes her.

I'll let you watch and see how this all ironically plays out. The main problem with this film is not the acting or direction or the story - all are great. The film is too dark at points, and at other points the soundtrack downright overpowers the dialogue. I think I'd give it another star if it wasn't for these technical details.

Costarring the great Hazel Court as Jimmy Martin's cast off girlfriend. You might remember her as the scream queen of circa 1960 Roger Cormen horror films. Highly recommended.

Poor Eric Portman is saddled with a habitually unfaithful wife. He decides to commit the perfect crime, and murder the nasty wife's lover (Dennis Price). Problem is, he soon finds out that little woman has yet another lover. What is our poor, DEAR MURDERER going to do now?

This is a perfect English mystery movie for those who love English mystery movies. The murderer is rather sympathetic. The crime is charmingly convoluted -- it might even give Sherlock Holmes a few rough moments. And the Scotland Yard detective is like all Scotland Yard detectives (when not co-starring with some brilliant amateur detective) -- smarter than he looks, visiting his quarry constantly with "just a few questions, sir." Those who are more used to American films might think the pace a bit slow (particularly at the beginning), though this pacing really does pay off with an unexpectedly twisty final reel.

If you don't really like old movies, this is not for you. But if you remember being happy when you found that the late show you were about to watch was going to be an English mystery, this will be perfect. Note, though, nothing really stands out about this one. It's all crisply enough acted, with a few noir trappings imported from America for the finale. But ultimately , all it is is a jolly good show, best enjoyed with a crackling fire and some mighty good sherry.

Eric Portman, Greta Gynt, Dennis Price, and Jack Warner star in "Dear Murderer," a 1947 film courtesy of Gainsborough Productions.

Portman plays Lee Warren, an Englishman who has to be away for eight months in the U. S. setting up a New York office for his firm. His wife Vivien, who has cheated on him before, promises him she is over all that and will write every day.

She keeps it up for a while and then the letters stop. Warren sees a photo of her in a Tattler magazine with one Richard Fenton (Price) and knows she's being unfaithful again.

The film actually begins with Warren dropping in on Fenton and announcing that he's going to kill him, and that it will be the perfect crime. Complications ensue, not the least of which is that dear Vivien has another boyfriend as well. Fenton decides to kill two birds with one big stone.

Really excellent suspense film with the beautiful Gynt looking incredible in some fabulous clothes, including the gown she wears when we first see her - it would cause a splash at today's Oscar ceremony. Jack Warner, who seems to be always playing a police detective, is here in his familiar role again.

A perfect Sunday afternoon movie and if you're a lover of mystery and suspense as I am, you'll enjoy this.

Dear Murderer (1947)

What a fabulous, complicated, feint and double feint movie about murder, attempted and otherwise. It's a very British feeling film, and though it has a film noir darkness (very dark, in my copy), it doesn't have the angularity nor the action of an American noir. More defining, though, is the deliberate parlor game feel to this very deadly situation. You might compare (if comparing is helpful) to the Joan Crawford "Sudden Fear" to make this most obvious.

There is a lot of sparring with words here, very smartly written, and you have to pay attention as the intentions of the characters seem to be shifting all the time. You have to have the low key, steadfast, opaque, and clever detective of course, and the detective here is brilliantly all those things. And you have to have motive, which we have in abundance.

And you need abundance since so much is going to go wrong here. Eric Portman is the key figure through it all, and he plays a jilted husband with laconic brilliance. His wife, and his wife's several lovers, are all excellent in support, each either surpassingly innocent at heart despite their adulteries, or really devious and selfish. It's beautifully constructed, and really a joy. But you have to pay attention. No getting up for popcorn here.