There is so much contrivance and incongruity in this odd crime drama that a tweak here and there might have turned it into a somewhat absurdist dark comedy. But it appears to take itself seriously.
The original play, "Uncle Harry" by Thomas Job has been relocated from Edwardian England to a fictional town in New Hampshire, USA, but not only are four of the main cast members (George Sanders, Sarah Algood, Moyna MacGill, Geraldine Fitzgerald) either Anglo or Anglo-Irish, not one of them bothers to sound American - not even New England American. To top it off, who shows up as a local gossip but Ethel Griffies, Old World as ever, best known as the crusty ornithologist in Hitchcock's "The Birds." She provides a few moments of refreshing amusement in a drug store involving a double-dip ice cream cone.
Although the film clearly takes place in the time of its release (1945, the last year of the Second World War) and includes conversation about travel to Europe, there is no reference verbally or visually to the war that was still ravaging that continent, even though there are several mentions of its immediate historic predecessor, the Great Depression.
The title character is the mild-mannered male descendant of a once prosperous family, fallen on hard times due to the Depression which forces him into a nine-to-five grind in a local mill designing patterns for textiles. The family house, all that's left of the ancestral fortune, is downright palatial and shared with two domineering sisters: one, played with subtlety and skill by Fitzgerald, is emotionally dependent, passive-aggressive, grasping and possessive; the other (MacGill) is cheerful and far less demanding but somewhat airheaded. Despite their reduced financial circumstances, both dress like prosperous fashion plates. Into their world steps the even more stylish Ella Raines as a designer sent from the local firm's New York office who strikes up a relationship with Sanders, destabilizing the long-term setup with his sisters. And there the trouble begins.
Additionally, Sanders isn't right for the role which on the London stage was played by Michael Redgrave and on Broadway by, of all people, Joseph Schildkraut. Sanders is largely inert throughout, appearing to make little or no effort to represent a sentient human being. The character is supposed to be, at least outwardly, a milquetoast who eventually snaps; Sanders is less toast than wood. His height, girth, strong facial features and deep, commanding voice are out of character. Jimmy Stewart, Burgess Meredith or Ray Milland (to name a few) would have been better for this role. Of the two sisters, MacGill's character as written here is the nicer (which isn't saying much) but we are never sure whether we're supposed to like her or not. This problem is traceable to sloppy changes made to the original, which to judge from the historical record was evidently a coherent and successful stage play. The motion picture version emerges as a strange mess, interesting mostly because of how absurdly bad it is.
The original play, "Uncle Harry" by Thomas Job has been relocated from Edwardian England to a fictional town in New Hampshire, USA, but not only are four of the main cast members (George Sanders, Sarah Algood, Moyna MacGill, Geraldine Fitzgerald) either Anglo or Anglo-Irish, not one of them bothers to sound American - not even New England American. To top it off, who shows up as a local gossip but Ethel Griffies, Old World as ever, best known as the crusty ornithologist in Hitchcock's "The Birds." She provides a few moments of refreshing amusement in a drug store involving a double-dip ice cream cone.
Although the film clearly takes place in the time of its release (1945, the last year of the Second World War) and includes conversation about travel to Europe, there is no reference verbally or visually to the war that was still ravaging that continent, even though there are several mentions of its immediate historic predecessor, the Great Depression.
The title character is the mild-mannered male descendant of a once prosperous family, fallen on hard times due to the Depression which forces him into a nine-to-five grind in a local mill designing patterns for textiles. The family house, all that's left of the ancestral fortune, is downright palatial and shared with two domineering sisters: one, played with subtlety and skill by Fitzgerald, is emotionally dependent, passive-aggressive, grasping and possessive; the other (MacGill) is cheerful and far less demanding but somewhat airheaded. Despite their reduced financial circumstances, both dress like prosperous fashion plates. Into their world steps the even more stylish Ella Raines as a designer sent from the local firm's New York office who strikes up a relationship with Sanders, destabilizing the long-term setup with his sisters. And there the trouble begins.
Additionally, Sanders isn't right for the role which on the London stage was played by Michael Redgrave and on Broadway by, of all people, Joseph Schildkraut. Sanders is largely inert throughout, appearing to make little or no effort to represent a sentient human being. The character is supposed to be, at least outwardly, a milquetoast who eventually snaps; Sanders is less toast than wood. His height, girth, strong facial features and deep, commanding voice are out of character. Jimmy Stewart, Burgess Meredith or Ray Milland (to name a few) would have been better for this role. Of the two sisters, MacGill's character as written here is the nicer (which isn't saying much) but we are never sure whether we're supposed to like her or not. This problem is traceable to sloppy changes made to the original, which to judge from the historical record was evidently a coherent and successful stage play. The motion picture version emerges as a strange mess, interesting mostly because of how absurdly bad it is.