In his many appearances in the noir cycle, Raymond Burr usually supplied the bitter icing for the devil's-food cake. But his few starring roles (Unmasked, Please Murder Me) landed him in vehicles that, in look and length, resembled the Perry Mason show for which he would soon become rich and famous. Were it a bit longer and more stylish, Unmasked might have been a competitive entry in the cycle; as it stands, it's standard-issue Republic fare, memorable chiefly owing to Burr.
He plays a slimy scandal-sheet editor (thus taking his place in a line of sinister media luminaries portrayed in, among others, Laura, The Big Clock, Scandal Sheet, The Glass Web and Slander). He can't be very good at selling his rag, because it depends on subventions from showgirl Hillary Brooke, who made it big on Broadway. Burr woos her with empty promises, knowing she can't get a divorce from husband Paul Harvey, an older impresario now reduced to living in a bed-sitter with a hotplate. To avoid signing yet more promissory notes, Burr strangles Brooke and frames Harvey for the murder.
The rest of the movie devolves into routine cops-and-robbers stuff. Coming to her father's aid, Harvey's schoolteacher daughter journeys down to Manhattan from one of those many upstate New York towns that resemble sunny California; police detective Robert Rockwell helps her (he got gypped; he takes star billing but a dull secondary role). Added to the mix are an informant (Norman Budd, who tells Burr `You kinda like to hate in bunches, don't you?'); a gangster (John Eldredge) whose brother is killed during a prison break; and several excursions to a foggy place on Long Island Sound called Swenson's Landing. Still, Burr brings to it his suave black magic, never more effective than when the huge orbs of his eyes flash with gleeful malice.
He plays a slimy scandal-sheet editor (thus taking his place in a line of sinister media luminaries portrayed in, among others, Laura, The Big Clock, Scandal Sheet, The Glass Web and Slander). He can't be very good at selling his rag, because it depends on subventions from showgirl Hillary Brooke, who made it big on Broadway. Burr woos her with empty promises, knowing she can't get a divorce from husband Paul Harvey, an older impresario now reduced to living in a bed-sitter with a hotplate. To avoid signing yet more promissory notes, Burr strangles Brooke and frames Harvey for the murder.
The rest of the movie devolves into routine cops-and-robbers stuff. Coming to her father's aid, Harvey's schoolteacher daughter journeys down to Manhattan from one of those many upstate New York towns that resemble sunny California; police detective Robert Rockwell helps her (he got gypped; he takes star billing but a dull secondary role). Added to the mix are an informant (Norman Budd, who tells Burr `You kinda like to hate in bunches, don't you?'); a gangster (John Eldredge) whose brother is killed during a prison break; and several excursions to a foggy place on Long Island Sound called Swenson's Landing. Still, Burr brings to it his suave black magic, never more effective than when the huge orbs of his eyes flash with gleeful malice.