The formidable Sonia Dresdel reprises her stage role as the monstrous Sylvia Russell, manipulative, sadistic, and finally murderous. Venerating power and success, she demoralizes her husband and schemes to break up her daughter's marriage, though it is not altogether clear as to what she stands to gain from the latter act. In the course of this she attempts to corrupt the maid, including lending her an under-the-counter edition of Lady Chatterley's Lover, then banned in Britain though available in English versions from France, and quite possible to get hold of if you had the money. (Had the prosecutor in the later obscenity trial, who famously asked the jury whether they would be happy if their wives or servants read it, watched this by any chance?). There is also a suggestion of lesbianism as Sylvia strokes the maid's hair, telling her how beautiful she is.
Though some these days could no doubt advance other explanations for Sylvia's behaviour, the original play opened in 1944, and with her cruelty and belief that the ends justify the means, she was surely intended as an embodiment of those evils we were supposedly fighting. It had been written by Joan Morgan, another remarkable woman, an actress in silent films turned playwright who lived on into the present century. In common with several other British films from this period, including Compton Bennett's Daybreak, and Lawrence Huntington's The Upturned Glass, there is a very dark and pessimistic outlook on human nature, reflecting a general mood of despair at recent revelations to the depths to which humanity could sink. Though there is some hope, in that Sylvia's nemesis comes partially through her son, whom has inherited something of her iron will, and as doctor will be caring for rather than destroying others.
The film's main weakness is the lack of any explanation of why Sylvia's poisonous character has never manifested itself previously during all those years she had been bringing up the family. There is no sign of rationing and few people post-war could afford servants so it is presumably set in the late Thirties. It does remain fairly theatrical, though this enables a great power and tension to build in the final scenes. And some of the acting from the younger members of the cast is remarkably feeble. Nevertheless, this is another British film of its time that deserves to be much better known. Not always an easy watch for dog lovers though.
Though some these days could no doubt advance other explanations for Sylvia's behaviour, the original play opened in 1944, and with her cruelty and belief that the ends justify the means, she was surely intended as an embodiment of those evils we were supposedly fighting. It had been written by Joan Morgan, another remarkable woman, an actress in silent films turned playwright who lived on into the present century. In common with several other British films from this period, including Compton Bennett's Daybreak, and Lawrence Huntington's The Upturned Glass, there is a very dark and pessimistic outlook on human nature, reflecting a general mood of despair at recent revelations to the depths to which humanity could sink. Though there is some hope, in that Sylvia's nemesis comes partially through her son, whom has inherited something of her iron will, and as doctor will be caring for rather than destroying others.
The film's main weakness is the lack of any explanation of why Sylvia's poisonous character has never manifested itself previously during all those years she had been bringing up the family. There is no sign of rationing and few people post-war could afford servants so it is presumably set in the late Thirties. It does remain fairly theatrical, though this enables a great power and tension to build in the final scenes. And some of the acting from the younger members of the cast is remarkably feeble. Nevertheless, this is another British film of its time that deserves to be much better known. Not always an easy watch for dog lovers though.
