The elderly boss lady (Elsom) brings her housekeeper (Lupino), the housekeeper's two loony sisters (Lanchester and Barrett), and the maid (Keyes) to a large cottage in the moors near Gravesend in the far southeast of England. It's a mysterious and haunted place, kind of Tudor style, with heavy beams, load-bearing walls, and brick additions. This being before the Queen adopted electricity, the only lighting is by lamp, candle, or fireplace. Outside, when it's not raining, there are a few hills with scraggly trees. The rest of the ground is covered with studio fog made from frozen carbon dioxide. Who wouldn't want to live there, if he or she were a vampire?
Lupino is a tidy housekeeper but there's one piece of grit she can't get rid of. That's her boss, Elsom, the plump matron who owns the place and keeps playing "Titwillow" on the piano. So -- in a marvelously directed scene -- Lupino strangles the old lady, stuffs her into the capacious wall safe and bricks up the opening. Reginald Denham is the adapter and director. He gets bonus points for his subtle handling of the murder.
Thereafter, Lupino takes over the household and spreads the story that Elsom simply decided to take a trip with some friends. She dominates the two sisters and the maid, which is what I happen to think she was after all along. Women love to run the house.
However, as all of us sneaky murderers know, events always get out of hand. First, Lupino's nephew, the wayward Hayward, shows up on the lam for a bank robbery. He'd like to hunker down for a while in the cottage but, for all his verve and charm, Lupino has never liked him and hardly wants him hanging around now, what with Lupino having to hide that Big Secret.
With the help of Keyes, the maid, the clever Hayward soon has things figured out. And, on top of that, there is a slight problem with Lupino cashing the rent check from the nearby priory. The bank returns the check, saying they are "not acquainted" with the signature and would Elsom please sign it again in her usual hand? All very nicely done.
You'll probably enjoy it. There's virtually no violence but a good deal of intrigue and some agreeable performances. If there's a weakness, it lies in Lupino's acute and inexplicable case of conscience. She surrenders herself to the coppers. With a bit of a stretch we can reckon why she did it. (Hayward would have squealed on her in any case when he was caught.) But we'd best leave it as it is, a mystery within a mystery.
Lupino is a tidy housekeeper but there's one piece of grit she can't get rid of. That's her boss, Elsom, the plump matron who owns the place and keeps playing "Titwillow" on the piano. So -- in a marvelously directed scene -- Lupino strangles the old lady, stuffs her into the capacious wall safe and bricks up the opening. Reginald Denham is the adapter and director. He gets bonus points for his subtle handling of the murder.
Thereafter, Lupino takes over the household and spreads the story that Elsom simply decided to take a trip with some friends. She dominates the two sisters and the maid, which is what I happen to think she was after all along. Women love to run the house.
However, as all of us sneaky murderers know, events always get out of hand. First, Lupino's nephew, the wayward Hayward, shows up on the lam for a bank robbery. He'd like to hunker down for a while in the cottage but, for all his verve and charm, Lupino has never liked him and hardly wants him hanging around now, what with Lupino having to hide that Big Secret.
With the help of Keyes, the maid, the clever Hayward soon has things figured out. And, on top of that, there is a slight problem with Lupino cashing the rent check from the nearby priory. The bank returns the check, saying they are "not acquainted" with the signature and would Elsom please sign it again in her usual hand? All very nicely done.
You'll probably enjoy it. There's virtually no violence but a good deal of intrigue and some agreeable performances. If there's a weakness, it lies in Lupino's acute and inexplicable case of conscience. She surrenders herself to the coppers. With a bit of a stretch we can reckon why she did it. (Hayward would have squealed on her in any case when he was caught.) But we'd best leave it as it is, a mystery within a mystery.