Dear Murderer – Directed by Arthur Crabtree. Murder. A jealous husband plans the perfect crime, and gets away with it. 94 minutes Black and White 1947.
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Dear Murderer has nothing to do with Noir. It is instead a good old fashioned pip-pip British murder story. We know who the murderer is from the start, the redoubtable Eric Portman. Opposite him is a pompadour from hell, played by Greta Gynt, as his wife. The lady is untrue, and one of her untruths is a pompadour almost as towering as hers. The story is well told and satisfying in its genre. Everyone is excellent, since in this sort of piece the acting does not need to amount to much, and the editing needs to amount to everything. Portman tends to rush his lines, a habit that got worse with him as he matured. It’s a habit of English actors when they don’t feel anything. Margaret Leighton used to do it, too. But that his lines hiss by doesn’t really matter so much, since we are, after all, engaged in a battle of the lizards. Watch them sink their giant jaws into one another’s necks. How satisfying!
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