Hidden Homicide (1959) User Reviews

A fair mystery

[hwg1957-102-265704 · 6/10 · 26 February 2017]

Based on the novel 'Murder at Shinglestrand' written by Paul Capon the film starts off with a man going to bed then waking up in a house he has never been in, holding a gun. On searching the place he finds the body of his cousin. Then off we go until the final denouement, which did surprise me. Looking at the film again it is really obvious but I missed the clues on first viewing.

Griffith Jones is a bit (well, a lot) dull as the hero but Bruce Seton as the crime reporter brings his usual quiet authority to the part and James Kenney is very good in three parts. Half way through I was looking for him to turn up as he was second billed in the credits but he already had in one role. It fooled me.

It's not a fast moving film but there is no padding in its run time. The romance is perfunctory and doesn't hold things up. A lot was filmed on location so there are nice shots of late fifties London, which for a Londoner is always good to see. Continuity for the film was done by the splendidly named Splinters Deason.

Bizarre little film.

[ronevickers · 6/10 · 9 August 2011]

As "B" features go, this is quite a bizarre movie. It's plot is routine, whilst also convoluted, as are the characterizations. It switches from staginess in presentation, to quite pointed scenes of tension and menace. A lot of this is due to the acting, some of which is wooden in the extreme, particularly from Patricia Laffan who looks like she has simply wandered onto the film set and hasn't learnt her lines! The scene where she ends in an embrace with Griffith Jones is hilarious. The film is carried by James Kenney who, at least, imbues his characters with some style and sense of purpose. He was, of course, an actor who specialised in edgy, sinister type roles and he performs well in this film. It's quaint and dated now, and is very much a mixed bag.

a man wakes up in a strange home

[blanche-2 · 6/10 · 15 December 2021]

A novelist, Michael Cornforth (Griffin Jones) goes to bed in London and wakes up with a gun in his hand in his cousin's country cottage. Walking around, he finds his cousin in a kitchen closet.

Two women appear at the door, soaked from the rain, asking to come in. One of the women goes into the kitchen for tea and drops something on the floor. Looking for a broom, she finds the body, screams, and faints.

Michael attempts to explain the situation to Jean Gilson (Patricia Laffan). For some reason, she believes him. This is a major hole in the story - there is no explanation for her behavior.

Michael's investigation, with the help of Jean and a friend, reporter Bill Dodd (Bruce Seton), puts him on the trail of his cousin's wife, who supposedly is in Australia. Since Michael is in line to inherit, and since someone is trying to frame him, this is perhaps about money.

These B noirs were part of a quota system in British film. It's not bad; in fact, there are some fun scenes. There's a neat twist, actually a double twist, at the end.

Oh, Michael!

[fillherupjacko · 24 March 2011]

After opening titles of sinister hypnotic music and swirling water, we're in a London apartment where Michael Cornforth, a writer, (Griffiths Jones) is making ready for bed. The next morning when he awakes he's not only fully dressed and in a completely different place in the sticks – he's also holding a gun! After a bewildered nosey round the gaff, this being a black and white second feature, he of course finds a dead body - in the kitchen. Two Rank charm school types, Jean (played by Patricia Laffan) a bossy nosey parker type certainly, a lesbian possibly – and Marian, a beautiful trance like possibly drug addicted living doll – call round on, of all things, a walking holiday. They're soaked to the skin (it is, after all ,raining) and seeking shelter. This being Britain in the 1950, Cornforth can't tell them to do one so he only goes and lets them in doesn't he. After lots of farcical trying to keep them out of the kitchen stuff while not appearing to be totally odd - and Jean informing Cornforth that her friend is "very nervy and imaginative – always expecting to find bodies under the bed" - Marian upsets the Saxa salt and one textbook scream later discovers the corpse. Not unnaturally the two girls try and bail out. Cornforth prevents this at gunpoint – and then things begin to get really silly. He wants to talk to Jean who then simply goes off with him for a nice chat while leaving Marian in the bedroom without explanation like a naughty child. Cornforth says he can prove he was in London last night as his neighbour Mungo Jerry – or Peddy – saw him. Jean then goes from "You murdered him (not Mungo) didn't you?" to "I can take care of Marian. No one believes her anyway" in the blink of an eye. Why I'm not sure. It can't be Cornforth's charisma. Later on Jean informs Cornforth that she's had Marian sent to hospital. "They've got her under heavy sedation. She'll be out for 24 hours." With friends like that?

All in all Hidden Homicide – in terms of characterisation, plotting and probability - charters new waters of terribleness even by the standards of the British black and white 1950s B movie.

Wait. How did I get here?

[mark.waltz · 5/10 · 5 November 2019]

This complex British mystery involves Griffin Jones going to bed in one spot and waking up somewhere completely different, no longer in a bed, but on a couch complete with gun in hand. A knock at the door finds him trying to keep out two hiking females, and by accident, the dead body he just stuffed in the closet is discovered. Fortunately, one of the women (Patricia Laffan) believes that Jones is completely innocent, and over the next 70 minutes, they find themselves involved in all sorts of Intrigue with Laffan suddenly finding herself in danger when she encounters the strange James Kenney. Jones is shot at in the middle of a vaudeville show involving a rope twirler, and this leads to a tense car chase.

Overly complex and perhaps a little too pleased with its "cleverness", this British mystery/noir is technically superb but overwrought plot wise. Like other British quota quickies, this needed perhaps another reel to fully make sense, although a few of the plot twists and revelations are decidedly unique and perhaps ahead of their time. Still, it is fun in its own way to watch develop, coming together in spite of several slow stretches.

Improbable, twisty B noir set in 50's London to annoying score

[adrianovasconcelos · 6/10 · 18 April 2023]

Confessing immediately that I have never heard of Director Anthony Young, I have to admit that HIDDEN HOMICIDE has left me rather underwhelmed.

The best things about this B noir are: pretty, elegant, leggy Patricia Laffan; the lovely cars of the 1950s, including the shrill police vehicles; Charles Farrell as the slippery Mungo Peddy, unfortunately in a very small part; and the sudden emergence of the villain, concealed from sight for most of the film's 68'.

Griffith Jones never rises above the mediocrity of his role (he does not even convey any witty or sharp one-liners that reflect some intelligence), and his running is too slow to elude police cars, forcing the viewer to suspend his disbelief to considerable extents.

James Kenney steals the show as knife thrower and impersonator but it is Laffan's breath-taking beauty and willingness to trust the male despite appearances that I take away from this noir.

The script suffers from serious and illogical holes: it is difficult to see how the murderer could impersonate the first deceased's wife for four years, and the rescue of Laffan at the end shows what appear to be some scenes in daylight and others at night.

The soundtrack does not help, either. Some wonky drumming, like a poor recording, persists even during the car chases, and I found it unnerving.

Thankfully, it's all done in 68'', and, as indicated above, the big plus is that you get to see some truly wonderful cars.

You Can't Trust Blondes

[boblipton · 5/10 · 11 December 2019]

What would you do if you woke up in a strange house, not knowing how you got there, with a pistol in your hand and your cousin's body stuffed into a cupboard? If you're Griffith Jones, you talk Patricia Laffan, who knocks on your door, and your reporter friend, Bruce Seton, into helping you hunt for the killer without informing the authorities. They get wind of it soon enough anyway, when Charles Farrell, the antiques restorer and forger across the way also turns up dead.

It's a decently directed and telegraphically plotted murder mystery directed by Terrence Young. It's an efficiently produced second feature, with everyone running around London and the exurban areas, with a nice twist ending, and decent actors. Even so, it works out to be little more than a decent time-waster, although cinematographer Ernest Palmer -- the British one, just as it's the British Farrell in the cast -- gets some good night shooting at the end. It was the end of Palmer's career; he would light one more movie (the appropriately named THE CROWNING TOUCH) and retire. He died in 1964, age 63.

Could Have Been Good But.......

[timboie-41684 · 1/10 · 18 November 2018]

This could have been a good film if it had been handled correctly. Trouble is, it wasn't. The plot idea is pretty fair but it's let down by poor writing, very wooden acting (apart from Bruce Seton) and just about everything else.

There's nothing hidden about the homicide they inflicted on this one. Don't bother.

Starts off well ends poorly

[malcolmgsw · 4/10 · 16 November 2018]

This film starts with a good if unoriginal premise of a man waking up in a strange house with a gun in his hand and a dead body in the next room.Then there is that old chestnut of the girl knowningredients that whilst there is a dead body in the kitchen Griffiths Jones can't be the murderer.There is subsequently a plot device which is so obvious it partly gives the game away.In the last quarter of the film there is a lot of dialogue explaining the plot.Everything about this film is second rate.Released by Rank,so no surprise there then

Too many murders for any digestion

[clanciai · 8/10 · 19 April 2023]

Hitchcock would have loved this plot and would surely have made something great of it, with all its kinky sexy problems, with all this double play, with all this ghost parade of the past with an unresolved murder four years ago, and a very innocent man in the middle of it, being tucked into it and drowned in murders around him, a typical Hitchcock hero of an ordinary man being forced into intrigues which he can't understand the slightest detail of. And who would in his place? If you some time have woken up somewhere without an inkling of an idea where you are or why or how or whatever got you into this position, you will understand the case of the poor Griffith Jones and his awful predicament. Fortunately there is a rather matter-of-fact lady with a stiff upper lip to make an effort of helping him out, while his great aid in this inextricable situation is his old friend Bill Seton, a crime reporter, who seems to know exactly how to deal with a hopeless business. The plot is intricate, far-fetched, hopelessly bizarre but actually makes sense in all its crooked ways, and at least the three searchers will be relieved to finally find out that they were chasing too many ghosts while only one was real. 70 minutes is too little for a complex intrigue like this, you easily drop out and miss important details, it is too compressed for a great thriller, while more space would have provided the audience with better possibilities of reflection and understanding.

You have to be a die-hard fan of b/w brit pix to really enjoy this.

[mikeolliffe · 2/10 · 2 December 2018]

All of these aged movies are interesting, not so much for the plot, acting, photography, etc., but for what they reveal about the times in which they are made. Look at what is going on in the background, for example (primarily speaking of location filming - not so much studio-bound efforts). With Hidden Homicide, that is what I was doing, making the usual discovery that there wasn't so much traffic about in those days. As for the movie itself, it requires too much suspension of disbelief. The 'romance' between the hero and the 'damsel in distress' was particularly unconvincing. In the interests of accuracy, at the end the villain was led off in handcuffs, not 'chains.' (I couldn't get back into the synopsis site to change this).

Murder At Shinglestrand.

[hitchcockthelegend · 2/10 · 7 August 2015]

Hidden Homicide is directed by Tony Young and adapted to screenplay by Young and Bill Luckwell from the novel "Murder at Shinglestrand" written by Paul Capon. It stars Griffith Jones, James Kenney and Patricia Laffan. Music is by Otto Ferrari and cinematography by Ernest Palmer.

A novelist wakes up to find a gun in his hand a relative murdered nearby. Did he do it?

Who cares is the serious answer after sitting through this most turgid of "Z" grade Brit crime mysteries. There's just about enough material here to have made a half hour episode of some low rent Private Investigator show, but even then the logic holes and crumbling direction would struggle to hold the attention of the intelligent of mind. Also features one of the most irritating musical scores of the 50s (shudder). 2/10

An adequate mystery yarn.

[searchanddestroy-1 · 9 August 2009]

A good British mystery story from the other side of the Channel. Produced by Rank organization studios. Music score is so British, we never hear this kind of music in US features. Not really a film noir, but a well made story about a man accused of a murder he did not commit. Of course. So far, nothing unusual, but after the topic becomes interesting.

SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER

The murderer impersonates a female artist of the music hall, sort of Calamity Jane, who was supposed to have killed the man found in our lead's house. The murder he is accused of.

Not bad at all. I have seen worse, among UK fifties crime mystery movies.

Hidden Homicide

[CinemaSerf · 5/10 · 18 April 2023]

"Cornforth" (Griffiths Jones) wakes up, fully clothed, in a strange house in the middle of nowhere. He has no idea how he got there, nor why he has a gun in his hand and why... wait for it... there is a corpse in the kitchen. To add to his confusion, he is joined by two rain-soaked backpackers - "Jean" (Patricia Laffan) and "Marian" (Maya Koumani). When they discover his secret they try to skedaddle only to be prevented from doing so by their befuddled host. What now ensues is really a rather daft murder mystery that involves him and the now somewhat miraculously convinced "Jean" returning to London where they try to get to the bottom of this increasingly far-fetched conundrum. It is pretty obvious - once we are back in civilisation and amongst a cast that includes the usually reliable Bruce Seton and the plummy, easy on the eye, James Kenney - who is behind the crime, even though the motive remains curiously elusive right until the last few scenes. It's not the worst, it's clearly just a job of work for all concerned with an unremarkable script and some equally forgettable performances that passes an hour or so, but not in any way remotely memorable.