Hell Is Sold Out (1951)

A book is sent to the publishers under the name of "Lom", a popular writer, long believed to be dead. The real "Lom" turns up & meets the new authoress using his name.

Director:

Michael Anderson

Writers:

Moie Charles, Maurice Dekobra (novel),

Stars:

Mai Zetterling, Herbert Lom, Richard Attenborough

Cast

Cast overview, first billed only:
Mai Zetterling	...	Valerie Martin
Herbert Lom	...	Dominic Danges
Richard Attenborough	...	Pierre Bonnet
Hermione Baddeley	...	Mme. Louise Menstrier
Nicholas Hannen	...	François
Olaf Pooley	...	Cheri, male secretary
Eric Pohlmann	...	Louis, the proprietor
Kathleen Byron	...	Arlette de Balzamann
Joan Young	...	Mrs. Gertrude de Montfort Cole
Althea Orr	...	Mrs. Eunice Weinhardt
Virginia Bedard	...	Mrs. Irma Reinhardt
Joan Hickson	...	Hortense, the housekeeper
John Penrose	...	Repatriation Officer
Geoffrey Toone	...	Swedish Consulate Clerk
Mara Lane	...	Cafe Singer

Storyline

A book is sent to the publishers under the name of "Lom", a popular writer, long believed to be dead. The real "Lom" turns up & meets the new authoress using his name.

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Plot Keywords:

based on novel

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Genres:

Drama

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Details

Country:

UK

Language:

English

Release Date:

1952 (USA)

Also Known As:

En trekant i Paris

Company Credits

Production Co:

Raymond Stross Productions

Technical Specs

Runtime:

85 min

Sound Mix:

Mono

Color:

Black and White

Aspect Ratio:

1.37 : 1

Did You Know?

Trivia

The title refers to one of the novels that the heroine has written which she passes off as being written by her late husband.

User Reviews

postwar problems

One of those films that dealt - perhaps neither deliberately nor directly - with sorting out the muddle of war, and so a very distant relation of The Return of Martin Guerre as much as The Captive Heart. It was Lom's attempt at playing a romantic hero, and it didn't come off; he's too saturnine and grumpy. But artistically this has an upside, as it leaves us unsure whether the heroine will go for him or the more puppy-like, and more British, Attenborough. Alas, it all needs the Lubitsch touch, or at least the Michael Powell one; instead, it's wobbly in tone, shuffling between romance, comedy, farce and the odd echo of the war (Attenborough has blackouts caused by shrapnel in his head), along with some lame satire of Americans. It isn't bad - and it looks great, with high-contrast mono photography - but it isn't very good either.