Obsession (1949)

Obsession (1949) is a Limey lousy husband murder cat and mouse and dog revenge thriller in which Robert Newton plays a London psychiatrist who is so fed up with the repeated affairs of his wife Storm, that he plots and executes a seemingly perfect revenge against her latest lover, an American, by locking him for five months in a dingy post-war basement, while preparing a fiendish end for the sorry Yank.

The American nature of the victim seems to be a snidely perfect backdrop for the very British murder, and as the action commences, we are in the gentleman's club where the psychiatrist relaxes, listening to the snobbish upper classes dish the dirt on the British economy, and its new reliance on the US dollar, and the post-war glooms which are irritated further by the cultural evidence of the United States which pervades the drear with its omnipresent and clashing accent.

It is in fact the accent and the use of an American expression, so-called, that alongside of the dog, becomes the murderer's undoing.

It's true that psychiatrist and would-be murderer Riordan (Robert Newton) is a lousy husband, best evidenced by his fondness for his train set in favour of his wife, although she is a fairly lousy wife too, her saving grace in this role being that she is not a murderer.

Phil Brown, the suffering and yet chipper victim of all this nonsense, went on to play Luke Skywalker's uncle Owen Lars in that famous movie Star Wars (1977), although you would barely recognise him outside of the moisture farm, although he does grow a beard in this film. He was also blacklisted in the year of 1952, and so took up a residence in England.

Director Edward Dmytryk was for sure, familiar with the ways of noir. His Edward Dmytryk's career trajectory in post-World War II Hollywood offers a fascinating case study in the intersection of political ideology, professional choices, and the moral complexities of the film industry.

A member of the Hollywood Ten, Dmytryk faced severe repercussions for his brief flirtation with Communism, which included imprisonment and professional exile to England. His time in Britain, however, yielded significant works such as this here-discussed beauty here, Obsession (1949), a taut psychological thriller that remains a prime example of the complexities of revenge and obsession in film, yes it does.

Dmytryk’s association with the Hollywood Ten began in 1947, when he, alongside other prominent filmmakers, was called to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC). Initially, Dmytryk had been a member of the Communist Party in 1944 and 1945, though his allegiance was short-lived.

His refusal to testify at the time, along with his colleagues' collective stance, resulted in their being cited for contempt of Congress. This led to prison sentences for many, including Dmytryk, who was subsequently fired from his position at RKO. Struggling to find his place in the American film industry, Dmytryk fled to England, where he faced unofficial ostracism from former colleagues and the American entertainment community.

His exile marked the beginning of a new chapter in his career, where he worked on two notable films for producer Nat Bronstein: Obsession and Give Us This Day (1949), the latter being a neo-realist film with a working-class focus that was suppressed in the U.S.

Phil Brown and Sally Gray in Obsession (1949)

The plot of Obsession is a disturbing exploration of a man’s obsessive quest for revenge. Dr. Clive Riordan, a prominent psychiatrist, discovers that his wife, Storm (Sally Gray), has been unfaithful to him, and the affair with American Bill Kronin (Phil Brown) serves as the final betrayal.

Clive, pushed to his emotional limits, kidnaps Bill and locks him in a secret room, keeping him alive in a calculated effort to execute the "perfect murder" once the police have lost interest in the missing person case.

The film's premise revolves around the psychological tension between captor and captive, with Clive's meticulous plans being disrupted by unforeseen complications, including his wife's dog Monty, which inadvertently becomes a pivotal character in the story.

Obsession is a psychological thriller, relying heavily on the cerebral conflict between Clive and his victim. The film's pacing is deliberate, allowing the tension to build slowly as Clive’s carefully constructed plan unravels.

The plot develops through a series of interactions—Clive and Bill converse in the hidden room, Clive and Storm discuss the supposed murder, and Clive engages in a subtle battle of wits with Scotland Yard’s Superintendent Finsbury (Naunton Wayne).

These interactions create a web of psychological drama that keeps the audience engaged. Dmytryk's direction emphasizes the claustrophobic nature of the story, with much of the action confined to dimly lit interiors, including the secret room and the doctor's home, adding to the film’s oppressive atmosphere.

There are some exteriors of foggy London, some open city scenery when the Superintendent is out contemplating and there are some bomb sites, which offer a slight tugging flavour of the Trümmerfilm, as some of this is all explained by the ruinous remains of some rubbled out bombsites.

The character of Clive is portrayed with chilling restraint by Robert Newton, whose performance is a masterclass in controlled menace. Newton’s portrayal of a man driven by obsession but maintaining a facade of calm is a key strength of the film.

His ability to switch between cold detachment and subtle emotional vulnerability makes Clive a complex and compelling character. The script cleverly adds layers to his character, revealing his growing affection for Bill despite the fact that he plans to murder him. This complexity is juxtaposed with the tension created by the growing police investigation, with Finsbury’s methodical pursuit of the truth serving as the film’s central narrative conflict.

Phil Brown, as the kidnapped Bill, provides a suitable foil to Newton’s Clive. While his character is largely passive in comparison, he subtly resists his fate, engaging Clive in witty banter that adds a layer of dark humor to the otherwise grim narrative.

The dynamic between Clive and Bill, though fraught with psychological tension, also contains moments of macabre comedy, which provides brief relief from the otherwise taut atmosphere. Sally Gray’s role as Storm, while important, is somewhat sidelined, as her character becomes more of a catalyst for Clive’s actions than an active participant in the drama.

Nonetheless, her performance adds a layer of complexity to the emotional dynamics, particularly in her ambivalence toward her husband’s behavior and her eventual involvement in the investigation.

Naunton Wayne’s portrayal of Superintendent Finsbury is an interesting counterpoint to Clive’s cold rationality. Finsbury’s unassuming demeanor, combined with his shrewd investigative instincts, recalls the archetype of the detective who uncovers the truth through patient observation.

His interaction with Clive, particularly in their verbal sparring, adds a layer of intellectual tension to the film. Finsbury's presence in the film introduces an element of suspense, as the viewer is drawn into the slow unraveling of Clive’s perfect crime.

The film's cinematography, by C.M. Pennington-Richards, is another standout feature. The black-and-white photography enhances the film’s noir aesthetic, with shadows and low-key lighting emphasizing the film’s dark psychological themes.

The bombed-out London setting, a product of the post-war landscape, adds a sense of desolation and decay that mirrors the emotional desolation of the characters. This backdrop, combined with the close quarters of the hidden room, intensifies the film's claustrophobic atmosphere, where the walls seem to close in on both Clive and Bill.

Despite the film’s strengths, there are some inconsistencies in the plot that may stretch the viewer’s suspension of disbelief. For instance, the secret room in which Bill is held seems far too accessible, raising questions about how Clive manages to keep his captive undetected for so long.

Additionally, the motivations behind some characters' actions, particularly Storm’s continued presence in the house despite suspicions of her husband’s involvement in Bill’s disappearance, are somewhat dubious. These plot holes, though not detrimental to the overall enjoyment of the film, do detract from its realism.

Moreover, some of the film’s pacing could be seen as overly drawn out, particularly in the middle sections where the focus shifts between the various characters without advancing the central plot. This lack of forward momentum may be seen as a flaw, but it also allows the film to explore the psychological depth of its characters, particularly Clive’s obsessive nature and his escalating frustration as the investigation inches closer to uncovering his secret. In this sense, the film can be seen as a character study that relies more on internal conflict than external action.

Obsession (or as they call it elsewhere The Hidden Room) is a compelling psychological thriller that exemplifies Dmytryk’s skill in crafting tense, character-driven narratives. While it may not be as well-known as some of its contemporaries, it remains a powerful exploration of obsession, revenge, and the complexity of human emotions.

The performances, particularly by Robert Newton and Naunton Wayne, elevate the material, making the film a memorable entry in the British noir genre. Dmytryk’s direction, combined with the strong script and atmospheric cinematography, creates a film that is as intellectually engaging as it is suspenseful. Despite its flaws, Obsession is a testament to the director’s ability to craft a story that lingers in the viewer’s mind long after the credits roll.

Obsession (also known as we have mentioned this before, and will certainly mention again before this special comment is out, The Hidden Room) is a chilling British psychological thriller directed by Edward Dmytryk, adapted from Alec Coppel's novel and play.

The film presents a disturbing exploration of revenge, obsession, and psychological manipulation, embodied by its lead character, Dr. Clive Riordan. A prominent psychiatrist, Clive (played by Robert Newton), discovers that his wife, Storm (Sally Gray), has been unfaithful to him numerous times.

When he catches her in an affair with a younger American lover, Bill Kronin (Phil Brown), it serves as the proverbial "last straw," prompting Clive to take matters into his own hands with a meticulously planned scheme of revenge.

The film is at its core a revenge story, but it is the execution of the plot that distinguishes it from typical thrillers of the time. Dmytryk, who had been blacklisted in Hollywood, brings a calculated, Hitchcockian style to the film, constructing a slow-burn tension that gradually escalates into a dark exploration of obsession.

Clive’s plan to kidnap and imprison his wife’s lover in a hidden room is crafted with meticulous precision. His goal is not to torture his captive but to ensure that the crime goes undetected, a "perfect murder" that leaves no trace.

The choice of a bombed-out, post-war London setting, with its dilapidated buildings and forgotten corners, underscores the psychological decay of Clive’s mind as much as it serves as a physically claustrophobic space for his victim.

Clive's character is portrayed with an unsettling calmness, a chilling contrast to the intensity of his actions. Newton, typically known for his more expressive roles, delivers a masterful performance of restrained menace.

Clive is an urbane, intellectual figure, able to carry out his malevolent plans with the same detached politeness he uses when conversing with colleagues at his gentleman's club. The colleagues, throwbacks of the Empire, are inferior and old minds, and in fact the whole set up is antiquated, for in 1949, families like Clive and Storm's even still had a servant.

This ability to compartmentalize his darker nature is what makes him such a compelling villain. It is a calculated coldness that also allows Clive to navigate his interactions with others—whether it be his wife, his captive, or the police—with a sense of unshakable control.

Sally Gray’s portrayal of Storm adds further layers of complexity to the film. While she remains emotionally distant from Clive, she is nonetheless caught in his web of manipulation.

The film questions the dynamics of their marriage—why does Storm remain with Clive despite his coldness and cruelty? The narrative hints at her own moral failings, though her passive complicity in the affair and Clive’s escalating obsession suggests that the true dysfunction lies in their inability to break free from each other, despite their mutual distaste.

The film also introduces the figure of Naunton Wayne’s Superintendent Finsbury, a calm and methodical Scotland Yard detective whose investigation into the disappearance of Kronin becomes one of the film’s key narrative threads.

While Finsbury serves as a foil to Clive’s composed cruelty, his presence adds an element of tension, as he gradually begins to suspect that something is amiss. Finsbury’s subtle, almost jovial interactions with Clive reveal the intricacies of British politeness, creating a psychological standoff where both parties know more than they let on.

What the distributors did let on however were the following quite strange and seemingly charmless and unconnected taglines which supported the cinema-going notion that this was indeed the truer form of entertainment on the night you were out and about in 1949:

Whose eye could see... Whose ear could hear... Whose mind could know... the Secret!
Hidden LOVE! Hidden HATE! Hidden FEAR!

Finsbury’s eventual realization that Clive might be the culprit is sparked by a seemingly trivial detail—Clive’s use of the word “pal,” a colloquialism picked up from Kronin. This moment serves as a crucial turning point, highlighting the significance of small, seemingly inconsequential gestures in the unraveling of Clive’s plan.

The interplay between captor and captive also serves as one of the film's most fascinating aspects. Kronin’s endurance in the face of his imprisonment is both disturbing and fascinating. He does not react with the expected desperation but rather, with a calm acceptance of his fate, engaging in intellectual conversations with Clive as a way of coping with the unrelenting tension of his captivity.

This dynamic, particularly the interplay between Newton and Brown, lends the film a sense of dark humor, as the two characters exchange sarcastic, deadpan dialogue about the impending murder. Their exchanges reveal the psychological complexity of Clive’s obsession, as he simultaneously taunts his victim and enjoys the intellectual challenge of outsmarting the police.

While the plot’s premise—a psychiatrist kidnapping his wife’s lover—may seem implausible, the film’s psychological depth elevates it beyond the realm of mere melodrama. Dmytryk’s direction is careful and precise, focusing on the slow buildup of tension, with each scene meticulously crafted to reinforce the film’s atmosphere of claustrophobia and dread.

The cinematography by C.M. Pennington-Richards enhances this effect, with the film often confined to dimly lit interiors, creating a sense of being trapped alongside the characters. The bombed-out London setting further enhances the sense of isolation, providing a fitting backdrop for a story that delves into the darker corners of the human psyche.

Obsession also benefits from its understated musical score by Nino Rota, which adds a layer of psychological depth to the narrative. Rota, better known for his later work on films by Fellini and Visconti, uses music to underscore the growing tension and emotional turmoil of the characters.

The score’s subtle use of motifs mirrors the psychological states of the characters, particularly Clive’s obsessive compulsion to control every aspect of his life and his revenge scheme.

Despite its relatively restrained approach to violence, Obsession stands as a significant contribution to the genre of British thrillers and crime films.

Its methodical pacing, nuanced performances, and psychological complexity make it an enduring work in the genre, one that rewards repeated viewings. The film’s legacy is perhaps summed up by its influence on later works, including Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958), which shares thematic and narrative similarities, particularly in its exploration of obsession and the psychological toll of mad love.

Dmytryk’s film, while not as widely known as some of its contemporaries, remains an overlooked gem that deserves greater recognition for its intelligent, tightly constructed storytelling.

Obsession is a dark tale of psychological manipulation, and revenge. Its characters, particularly Robert Newton’s chilling portrayal of Clive, are a testament to the film’s complex character study.

The time-stamped moment when the woman gets away with it is a canine celebration of the tour-de-forcery of the female victor. She is not a murderer but not even so much as femme fatale, she is a lousy wife, but forgivable for so many reasons.

The film’s deliberate pacing, dark atmosphere, and subtle performances make it a compelling watch for those who appreciate psychological thrillers with depth and nuance. Though it may not have received the same level of acclaim as some of its more famous contemporaries, Obsession stands as a testament to the skill of its director and its ability to create an unsettling, tension-filled narrative that continues to captivate audiences.

Obsession (1949)

Directed by Edward Dmytryk