This is a stagy film with a group of idiosyncratic characters, roaming around a boarding house. Everyone is a suspect; everyone has some strange being about them. When a man is murdered, a group of buffoonish police infiltrate the house and act like Pirates of Panzance idiots. Don't even try to talk about motivations or realities because you won't find them here. We have, of course, the handsome smug young man who is "writing his play." If this is what he came up with the cop who implies that he has no profession is probably right. The acting is stilted. Some of the characters are strictly comic and there are those long pauses for us to laugh. Whether we should hold this to today's standards or not isn't the issue. There were well-done films in 1941 as well as now. This just lacked pizazz. And the ending is most disappointing.
Review of Shadows on the Stairs
