Three Silent Men (1940)

Three Silent Men (1940) is a Thomas Bentley directed pacifist surgeon and deadly weapon of war early nuclear threat war-themed innocent man accused of murder mystery courtroom largely farcical semi-serious pre-War style but intra-War produced drama noir low budget thriller intriguer, directed by Thomas Bentley and starring Sebastian Shaw, Derrick De Marney, Patricia Roc and Arthur Hambling, written by Jack Byrd and Dudley Leslie.

Three Silent Men (1940) here in fact under discussion is one of those lethargic British productions that proceeds with the exhausted gait of a bureaucracy rather than the propulsive energy of a thriller. It gestures vaguely toward intrigue, secrecy, and national peril, yet it refuses the discipline of clarity that the genre requires. What remains is a narrative that feels curiously incomplete, as though someone misplaced the final draft and proceeded to shoot the rehearsal notes.

We have not yet seen nor featured World war Two at its obvious worst and so the music is martial, the theme is espionage, there is an earnest anxious but positive kick to the music.

One watches Three Silent Men (1940) with the distinct sensation that important connective tissue has been deliberately withheld or perhaps never written at all. Characters move through scenes as if obeying cues from an invisible script that the audience has not been permitted to read. The result is not mystery in the elegant sense but vagueness masquerading as suspense.

The premise, which should in theory sustain a taut political drama, concerns an inventor who approaches the British Army with a remarkable technological innovation. His proposal, however, is bound to a peculiar political demand. He insists that the British government form an alliance with a foreign power eager to witness the dismantling of Britain's imperial dominance.

The British film industry in the early years of the Second World War produced many modestly budgeted thrillers that attempted to combine mystery, espionage, and wartime anxiety. Among these productions appears Three Silent Men (1940), a brief crime melodrama directed by Thomas Bentley. Produced as a supporting feature, the picture belongs to the tradition of the British “B” film, a category that often relied on efficient storytelling, limited sets, and recognisable genre patterns. Though lacking the lavish scale of prestige productions, such films reveal much about the industrial routines and cultural atmosphere of wartime cinema. Three Silent Men (1940) offers a curious hybrid of murder mystery and espionage narrative. The film introduces a moral dilemma involving a pacifist surgeon compelled to treat the architect of a terrible weapon. Suspicion, intrigue, and patriotic anxiety then shape the narrative that follows.

The scenario unfolds through a story written by Jack Byrd and Dudley Leslie. Their script combines the conventions of the interwar detective drama with new wartime concerns about technological warfare and foreign espionage. The resulting film sometimes appears to belong to an earlier decade. Its structure resembles the drawing-room mysteries that populated British screens in the 1930s. Yet the dialogue repeatedly refers to the looming global conflict and to the dangerous possibilities of modern armaments. The film therefore exists in an uneasy transitional moment. It retains the genteel tone of prewar mysteries while gesturing toward the darker mood that wartime thrillers would soon adopt.

Thomas Bentley, the director, had worked in British cinema since the silent era. His long career included numerous adaptations of detective stories and light comedies. In Three Silent Men (1940) he employs a straightforward visual style that prioritises narrative clarity over spectacle. The modest resources of a supporting feature required economical staging. Interior sets dominate the film, particularly hospital rooms and police offices. Exterior scenes appear only occasionally, though one early sequence involving a speeding motorcar provides a burst of energy. Bentley stages the crash with brisk editing and effective camera placement, offering a moment of excitement before the narrative settles into a more talkative mode.

The story begins with the mysterious inventor Karl Zaroff, a scientist whose work has produced a devastating instrument of warfare. Although the precise nature of this device remains vague, its destructive potential generates intense interest among government officials and foreign agents. Zaroff suffers a severe automobile accident and is taken to hospital. There he receives treatment from Sir James Quentin, an accomplished surgeon who possesses deeply held pacifist beliefs. Quentin despises the idea of scientific invention devoted to killing. Nevertheless, professional duty compels him to perform the life-saving operation. The scene creates the central moral tension of the narrative. A physician committed to healing must treat a man whose work promises enormous destruction.

Sir James Quentin is portrayed by the British actor Sebastian Shaw. Shaw possessed a classical stage background and often appeared in dignified roles. Later generations would remember him for portraying the unmasked form of Darth Vader in the film Return of the Jedi. In the period of Three Silent Men (1940) he was still developing a screen persona. Shaw had previously appeared in thrillers such as The Spy in Black, a notable wartime espionage picture. His performance as Sir James attempts to convey moral seriousness and emotional strain. The character must navigate between personal conscience and professional obligation. Some critics have suggested that Shaw appears slightly uncomfortable within the role, perhaps because the script oscillates between solemn ethical debate and light melodramatic intrigue.

After the operation Zaroff survives, yet the atmosphere surrounding him remains tense. Intelligence officers suspect that foreign agents wish to obtain his weapon designs. Among the investigators stands Captain John Mellish, an officer determined to secure the scientist’s plans before they fall into hostile hands. Mellish is played by Derrick De Marney, a performer who frequently appeared in British crime pictures during the late 1930s and early 1940s. De Marney had already gained attention for his role in The Blue Lamp later in his career, though earlier appearances in thrillers shaped his screen image as a determined and capable figure. In Three Silent Men (1940) he provides the narrative with momentum. Mellish investigates the suspicious circumstances surrounding Zaroff and attempts to protect the secrets of the invention.

A romantic subplot soon develops through the character of Pat Quentin, the surgeon’s daughter. She becomes emotionally involved with Mellish while simultaneously defending her father’s reputation. Pat is portrayed by Patricia Roc, a performer who would become one of Britain’s most recognisable screen personalities during the war years. Roc later appeared in the melodrama The Wicked Lady and also participated in darker thrillers such as Black Narcissus. In Three Silent Men (1940) she presents a youthful mixture of charm and determination. Her character participates actively in the attempt to uncover the truth behind the mysterious death that soon follows.

The crisis occurs when Zaroff unexpectedly dies during his recovery. Evidence suggests that the inventor received an excessive quantity of anaesthetic during treatment. Suspicion rapidly settles upon Sir James Quentin. His earlier condemnation of the scientist’s destructive invention appears to provide a motive. The authorities begin to suspect that the pacifist surgeon allowed moral outrage to override professional responsibility. This accusation threatens both his reputation and his freedom. The narrative therefore shifts into a familiar detective pattern. Pat Quentin and Captain Mellish seek to uncover the real culprit before the law condemns an innocent man.

A variety of daft supporting characters populate the investigation. Police officials question witnesses, reporters speculate about the scandal, and rural locals offer comic commentary. Among the more striking presences appears the foreign agent Klein, portrayed by André Morell. Morell later became well known through his work in British science fiction and horror films. He appeared in the classic The Quatermass Xperiment and also participated in Quatermass and the Pit. His deep voice and commanding manner suited roles requiring intelligence and quiet menace. In Three Silent Men (1940) he portrays a suspicious outsider whose motives remain uncertain for much of the story. Even with limited screen time, Morell projects a watchful intensity that enriches the film’s atmosphere.

The supporting cast includes the character actor Arthur Hambling as Ginger Brown, a rustic poacher who becomes entangled in the mystery. Hambling had long experience in British cinema, often portraying colourful rural figures. His presence introduces moments of comic relief. Scenes involving Ginger Brown and other villagers attempt to provide humour through drunken conversation and regional dialect. Such sequences reflect a common practice in British films of the period. Producers believed that audiences appreciated lighthearted interludes even within suspense narratives. Nevertheless these moments sometimes slow the dramatic pace. The central mystery briefly disappears behind rustic banter and journalistic squabbles.

The narrative structure follows the investigative logic typical of the detective genre. Mellish and Pat collect clues, question suspects, and gradually assemble the fragments of truth. Several characters appear to possess motives for eliminating Zaroff. Foreign spies seek the weapon plans. Government officials fear the political consequences of the invention. Even local witnesses behave suspiciously. The screenplay therefore creates a pattern of shifting suspicion. Each revelation seems to direct attention toward a new suspect, while Sir James Quentin remains under the shadow of accusation.

Despite the film’s modest scale, certain sequences generate genuine tension. The hospital setting proves particularly effective. Long corridors, dim lighting, and the quiet presence of medical equipment contribute to a mood of unease. Characters move cautiously through these spaces as though secrets hide behind every door. The camera often lingers on anxious expressions or partially concealed gestures. Such details hint at the stylistic tendencies that later critics would associate with film noir. Although Three Silent Men (1940) predates the classic American noir cycle, it already demonstrates interest in moral ambiguity and shadowed interiors.

The pacing of the film presents a mixed impression. Because the running time is relatively short, the narrative might be expected to proceed briskly. Yet the accumulation of dialogue-heavy scenes sometimes produces the opposite effect. Characters explain theories, argue about motives, and exchange speculation while the central puzzle advances slowly. Reviewers at the time observed that the opening portion of the story feels uncertain. Only during the later stages does the narrative accelerate toward a more dramatic resolution. When the final revelation arrives, the film briefly achieves the excitement promised by its premise.

The historical context of Three Silent Men (1940) deserves careful attention. The film appeared during the early months of the Second World War, after Britain had declared war on Germany in September 1939. Cinematic narratives during this period often avoided direct references to specific enemy nations. Instead they spoke of unnamed foreign powers or shadowy agents. Such ambiguity reflected both censorship concerns and diplomatic sensitivities. In this film the threatening nation behind Zaroff’s weapon remains unnamed, though the implications remain clear. The narrative expresses anxiety about technological warfare and the possibility that advanced weapons might determine the outcome of the conflict.

In 1940 Britain confronted a series of dramatic events that intensified these fears. The fall of France and the evacuation of Dunkirk revealed the precarious situation of the Allied forces. Later that year the Battle of Britain unfolded in the skies above the country. The idea of a single devastating weapon capable of altering the course of war possessed particular resonance in such circumstances. Although Three Silent Men (1940) treats this concept within a melodramatic framework, the underlying anxiety reflects genuine wartime concern.

The film also participates in the broader tradition of British espionage cinema that developed during the late 1930s. Earlier productions such as The Lady Vanishes had already established the popularity of spy narratives. These stories often depicted ordinary citizens unexpectedly drawn into international intrigue. Three Silent Men (1940) adopts a similar pattern. A respected surgeon becomes the central suspect in a political conspiracy. His daughter and a military officer attempt to expose hidden enemies within Britain itself. The film therefore explores the uneasy boundary between domestic life and wartime espionage.

Within the larger history of the United States of America, the film occupies an intriguing position. Although produced in Britain, its themes correspond with anxieties that soon appeared in American cinema as well. During the early 1940s Hollywood created numerous thrillers concerning secret weapons, spies, and saboteurs. Films such as Saboteur and Foreign Correspondent expressed similar fears about hidden enemies and technological warfare. Three Silent Men (1940) therefore participates in a transatlantic cinematic conversation. British filmmakers and American studios alike explored the psychological impact of modern war upon ordinary citizens. The film thus reflects the emerging alliance between Britain and the United States, even before America formally entered the conflict after the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941.

The film’s relation to the film noir tradition also deserves attention. Although produced in Britain and somewhat earlier than the classic American cycle, the narrative shares several characteristics associated with noir. Suspicion falls upon a morally conflicted protagonist whose integrity appears compromised by circumstance. The investigation unfolds through shadowy interiors and ambiguous relationships. Characters conceal their motives, and the truth emerges only after a sequence of misleading clues. The atmosphere of distrust and uncertainty anticipates the moral darkness that would later define films such as Double Indemnity. Even the presence of espionage agents and secret documents contributes to the mood of hidden danger typical of noir narratives.

The visual style of Three Silent Men (1940) remains comparatively restrained, yet certain moments hint at noir aesthetics. Dim lighting in hospital corridors creates sharp contrasts between illuminated faces and dark backgrounds. The camera occasionally frames characters through doorways or behind objects, suggesting surveillance and secrecy. These stylistic choices, though modest, reinforce the film’s themes of suspicion and concealed identity. British cinema would later develop similar techniques in darker thrillers such as Brighton Rock.

Consideration of gender representation within the film reveals additional complexity. Pat Quentin occupies a significant narrative position. She refuses to accept the accusation against her father and participates actively in the search for evidence. Rather than remaining a passive romantic figure, she conducts her own inquiries and confronts suspicious individuals. Her determination challenges traditional expectations of female behaviour within early twentieth-century melodrama. Nevertheless the screenplay ultimately reconnects her role with romance. The relationship between Pat and Captain Mellish receives increasing emphasis as the story progresses. Her independence therefore exists alongside the familiar structure of heterosexual partnership that characterised many films of the period.

Patricia Roc’s performance contributes to this balance between determination and vulnerability. She conveys intelligence and emotional strength while maintaining the charm expected of a leading lady in wartime British cinema. Roc’s career would soon expand into larger productions, where she frequently portrayed spirited heroines navigating dangerous situations. In Three Silent Men (1940) her presence helps sustain audience sympathy during the long investigation. The emotional stakes of the narrative depend largely upon her efforts to rescue her father from disgrace.

Another dimension of the film emerges through its treatment of scientific responsibility. Zaroff’s invention symbolises the terrifying possibilities of modern technology. The scientist appears willing to sell his creation to whichever government meets his demands. Such moral ambiguity contrasts sharply with the idealism of Sir James Quentin. The surgeon believes that knowledge should serve humanity rather than destruction. Their confrontation therefore represents a broader ethical debate about science during wartime. The narrative suggests that intellectual achievement divorced from moral restraint can produce catastrophic consequences.

This theme resonates strongly with the historical moment of 1940. Advances in engineering, chemistry, and physics had already transformed warfare during the First World War. By the time Three Silent Men (1940) reached cinemas, the world feared even more devastating innovations. Later in the decade the atomic bomb would confirm those fears. Although the film treats Zaroff’s weapon in vague terms, its symbolic significance remains clear. Scientific discovery appears as both promise and threat.

The supporting characters further enrich the film’s depiction of wartime society. Journalists compete aggressively for sensational headlines, reflecting the public fascination with scandal and espionage. Police officers attempt to maintain order amid growing confusion. Rural villagers observe the unfolding drama with a mixture of curiosity and scepticism. These figures collectively portray a community confronted by the unsettling intrusion of international intrigue. Their reactions range from patriotic concern to comic bewilderment.

As the investigation approaches its climax, Mellish and Pat finally uncover the true circumstances surrounding Zaroff’s death. The revelation exposes a conspiracy involving espionage and deception. Sir James Quentin emerges as an innocent man whose ethical convictions nearly led to wrongful condemnation. 

The final scenes restore moral balance and reaffirm the values of loyalty and justice. Although the resolution arrives abruptly, it provides the excitement that earlier portions of the film only promised.

The reception of Three Silent Men (1940) among critics remained mixed. Contemporary reviewers acknowledged the film’s engaging premise but often criticised its slow beginning and verbose dialogue. Some commentators admired the climactic twist, which introduces a surprising element of theatrical spectacle. 

Others observed that the modest production values limited the film’s impact. Nevertheless such criticisms should be understood within the context of the British “B” picture. These films rarely aimed for artistic grandeur. Instead they supplied reliable entertainment within a tightly controlled budget.

Today the film survives as a minor yet intriguing artefact of wartime cinema. It demonstrates how British filmmakers attempted to merge familiar detective conventions with contemporary political anxiety. The mixture sometimes produces uneven results. Comic interludes interrupt the suspense, and certain performances appear slightly exaggerated. Yet the film also reveals moments of genuine interest. The ethical dilemma of the pacifist surgeon, the shadowy presence of foreign agents, and the anxious atmosphere of wartime Britain combine to create a distinctive narrative.

Furthermore, Three Silent Men (1940) illustrates the importance of supporting features within the cinema culture of the early twentieth century. Audiences attending a film programme often watched two features along with newsreels and short subjects. The “B” film therefore functioned as both entertainment and industrial training ground. 

Directors, actors, and technicians refined their craft within these productions before moving to more prestigious projects. The careers of performers such as Sebastian Shaw, Derrick De Marney, Patricia Roc, and André Morell demonstrate how supporting features contributed to the development of British screen talent.

In retrospect the film occupies an intermediate position between two cinematic eras. Its narrative methods derive from the polite mysteries of the 1930s. At the same time its themes anticipate the darker mood that wartime and postwar thrillers would soon explore. 

Suspicion, moral uncertainty, and the fear of catastrophic technology foreshadow the psychological intensity associated with film noir. Three Silent Men (1940) may never achieve the recognition granted to more celebrated thrillers, yet it provides a revealing glimpse into the evolving language of suspense during a moment of global crisis.

Through its mixture of espionage drama, moral debate, and modest spectacle, the film captures a particular cultural mood. Britain in 1940 confronted an uncertain future, and cinema offered audiences both distraction and reflection. Even a modest supporting feature could express the tensions of its time. Three Silent Men (1940) therefore deserves attention not merely as a minor crime story but as a small window into the anxieties, ambitions, and cinematic practices of wartime Britain.

This conceit could have served as the nucleus of a sharp geopolitical thriller. Instead Three Silent Men (1940)handles the idea with an almost baffling casualness, as if imperial politics were merely another piece of stage furniture. One feels that the narrative recognizes the gravity of the concept only dimly, like a student who has memorized a phrase without comprehending its meaning.

The demonstration of the device appears intended to provide spectacle and urgency. Yet even this moment unfolds with a strangely muted theatricality. The viewer waits for the dramatic stakes to crystallize, but Three Silent Men (1940)seems content merely to gesture in their direction.

Shortly after the demonstration, the inventor suffers a catastrophic automobile accident. The scene is presented as a near fatal calamity that threatens to terminate both the man and the secret he carries. It is the sort of narrative turning point that should ignite the plot with ferocious momentum.

Instead Three Silent Men (1940) proceeds with the stubborn calm of a mildly inconvenienced civil servant. The inventor survives the crash, though only barely, thanks to the intervention of a surgeon. This surgeon, who enters the narrative as a savior, will soon find himself positioned at the uneasy center of suspicion.

What should have been a moment of relief becomes something far more cynical. The characters collectively arrive at the unsettling conclusion that the inventor's survival might in fact be undesirable. The suggestion that his death would have simplified matters hangs over the narrative like an unspoken accusation.

Such moral ambiguity could have provided fertile dramatic terrain. Yet the screenplay treats the matter with an oddly bureaucratic detachment, as though the death of a man were merely an administrative solution. The viewer senses that Three Silent Men (1940)is flirting with a darker thesis but lacks the courage to articulate it.

The inventor is soon murdered, a development that should theoretically transform the narrative into a focused investigation. Suspicion falls naturally upon the surgeon who saved him, a man whose proximity to the victim renders him a convenient suspect. The mechanics of accusation are therefore established, though not with the rigor one might hope for.

Here Three Silent Men (1940) attempts to construct the architecture of a mystery. Several characters drift into the frame, each of them possessing the faint outline of motive. Unfortunately these outlines remain sketches rather than portraits.

The viewer is left attempting to assemble a coherent puzzle from pieces that do not quite interlock. Scenes hint at secrets without ever clarifying them. Dialogues suggest conspiracies that dissolve upon inspection.

One particularly baffling question concerns the surgeon's presence in the inventor's room. The narrative offers a brief glimpse of him there under circumstances that appear furtive and incriminating. Yet Three Silent Men (1940)never fully explains why he was there or what precisely he intended to accomplish.

Even more perplexing is a moment involving a medical cabinet and a flashlight. The surgeon is seen rummaging through this cabinet with the clandestine intensity of someone searching for evidence or perhaps concealing it. The scene seems designed to imply guilt, yet Three Silent Men (1940)declines to elaborate on its significance.

This refusal to clarify crucial details produces not intellectual intrigue but narrative fatigue. A mystery thrives on carefully rationed information, not on the careless absence of it. Three Silent Men (1940)behaves as though withholding answers automatically constitutes sophistication.

At times the screenplay seems to remember that it is supposed to entertain. A group of journalists appears periodically, competing with one another to secure the sensational story. Their presence introduces an element of mild comic relief that feels imported from an entirely different genre.

These reporters scurry through the narrative like energetic insects. They provide chatter, urgency, and the illusion of public interest in the unfolding scandal. Yet their antics never quite integrate with the supposed seriousness of the political intrigue.

Another attempt at tonal diversification arrives in the form of a romantic subplot. A very young Patricia Roc appears, bringing with her the tentative charm of early career stardom. Three Silent Men (1940)seems briefly enchanted by her presence.

Her role introduces a delicate thread of affection that attempts to soften the otherwise grim narrative. Yet the romance is sketched with such brevity that it resembles a polite afterthought. One suspects that the filmmakers felt obligated to include it rather than inspired to develop it.

In fairness, the mystery itself is occasionally handled with a degree of competence. Certain sequences manage to sustain a flicker of curiosity about the identity of the murderer. The audience is encouraged to scrutinize glances, pauses, and fragments of dialogue.

However, these moments of intrigue are persistently undermined by the script's refusal to answer its own questions. Threads are introduced and then abandoned with startling indifference. The narrative behaves like an investigator who loses interest halfway through the case.

One could argue that this looseness reflects the industrial context of the film's production. It bears the unmistakable characteristics of a quota quickie, a rapidly produced feature designed primarily to satisfy regulatory requirements rather than artistic ambition. Efficiency rather than coherence appears to have been the guiding principle.

Nevertheless, even the most modest production can achieve clarity if its creators possess discipline. The tragedy of this film is not merely its budgetary modesty but its conceptual laziness. The screenplay seems unwilling to exert the intellectual effort necessary to organize its own ideas.

In the midst of this narrative confusion, one detail remains genuinely notable. Three Silent Men (1940)features an early appearance by Andre Morell, whose later career would grant him a far more distinguished cinematic presence. His performance here carries the faint promise of future gravitas.

Morell moves through Three Silent Men (1940)with a composure that the surrounding narrative does not deserve. He seems to understand the dramatic potential of the material more clearly than the script itself. One cannot help imagining the sharper film that might have emerged had the screenplay matched his seriousness.

The pacing of Three Silent Men (1940)contributes significantly to its sense of inertia. Scenes unfold at a plodding tempo that drains urgency from even the most potentially dramatic developments. Instead of building tension, the narrative often feels as though it is patiently waiting for something interesting to occur.

This sluggishness becomes particularly noticeable during investigative sequences. Characters ask questions with the weary politeness of people attending a committee meeting. The atmosphere of danger that a thriller requires never quite materializes.

Indeed Three Silent Men (1940) seems almost allergic to genuine suspense. Whenever a moment threatens to become gripping, the narrative diffuses it with explanatory dialogue or irrelevant digression. One begins to suspect that the filmmakers were wary of excitement.

Yet despite all these shortcomings, Three Silent Men (1940) possesses a certain modest entertainment value. Its running time of approximately sixty seven minutes ensures that the audience is never imprisoned within its shortcomings for too long. The brevity becomes a kind of accidental mercy.

Within that limited duration Three Silent Men (1940)manages to offer scattered moments of curiosity. The central mystery, however clumsily executed, occasionally invites speculation. Viewers may find themselves attempting to repair the narrative in their own minds.

This phenomenon is strangely revealing. The audience is compelled to perform the intellectual labor that the screenplay avoided. The act of watching becomes an exercise in narrative reconstruction.

At this point I feel compelled to articulate my judgment with unusual clarity. As I once wrote, « Je le dis sans hésitation, ce film marche comme une horloge brisée ». The mechanism is present, yet it refuses to tell the correct time.

The metaphor is painfully appropriate. Three Silent Men (1940)possesses all the visible components of a thriller, including murder, suspicion, and political intrigue. Yet these elements never align into a coherent system.

There is something almost fascinating about this failure. Three Silent Men (1940) becomes a case study in how genre conventions can be assembled without generating the energy they normally produce. One watches it with the detached curiosity of a scholar examining a flawed experiment.

This scholarly irritation eventually transforms into open impatience. The viewer begins to demand explanations that Three Silent Men (1940)stubbornly refuses to supply. Scenes accumulate like unresolved footnotes.

My own reaction could be summarized with another remark I have made elsewhere. « J'observe ce spectacle avec une irritation savante, comme un professeur corrigeant une dissertation paresseuse ». Three Silent Men (1940)provokes precisely that pedagogical frustration.

Yet even the most negligent student can produce a moment of accidental insight. Occasionally Three Silent Men (1940)stumbles upon an image or line of dialogue that hints at the sharper thriller it might have been. These fleeting successes only intensify one's disappointment.

Ultimately so indeed, in deed, deedy in, go boy, aye, what ya say, OK, this movie is not incompetent enough to be dismissed entirely, yet it lacks the coherence necessary to command admiration. Does that sound correct? One leaves it with the uneasy sense of having witnessed a draft rather than a finished work.

And so the final judgment must acknowledge both its limitations and its modest charms. It is a plodding British thriller whose vagueness undermines its own ambitions. Yet within its brief running time it offers just enough intrigue, comedy, and youthful romance to remain intermittently watchable. Da yeah, it is all up there on REEL STREETS 

Three Silent Men (1940)

Directed by Thomas Bentley

Genres - Crime, Drama  |   Release Date - Sep 7, 1940  |   Run Time - 72 min.  |