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The film creates a perfect balance between action and depth of basic needs, in the midst of an infertile atmosphere.

There's no way I can possibly love it entirely but I just think its ridiculously bad, but enjoyable at the same time.

Exactly the movie you think it is, but not the movie you want it to be.

The movie turns out to be a little better than the average. Starting from a romantic formula often seen in the cinema, it ends in the most predictable (and somewhat bland) way.

Would you really do anything for the one you love? She's beautiful, your wife and you've just found out that she's been having an affair while you've been away. You've come up with an idea of the "perfect murder". It's going to plan... or is it? This is a really clever plot, you the murderer are getting a two for one deal because you've just found out your wife has been two timing her lover. The police will never suspect you or if they do what are the chances of proving that you did it. There is a great sub-plot which I never saw coming; my evil mind was not focused.

Poor Eric Portman is saddled with a habitually unfaithful wife. He decides to commit the perfect crime, and murder the nasty wife's lover (Dennis Price). Problem is, he soon finds out that little woman has yet another lover. What is our poor, DEAR MURDERER going to do now? This is a perfect English mystery movie for those who love English mystery movies. The murderer is rather sympathetic. The crime is charmingly convoluted -- it might even give Sherlock Holmes a few rough moments. And the Scotland Yard detective is like all Scotland Yard detectives (when not co-starring with some brilliant amateur detective) -- smarter than he looks, visiting his quarry constantly with "just a few questions, sir." Those who are more used to American films might think the pace a bit slow (particularly at the beginning), though this pacing really does pay off with an unexpectedly twisty final reel.If you don't really like old movies, this is not for you. But if you remember being happy when you found that the late show you were about to watch was going to be an English mystery, this will be perfect. Note, though, nothing really stands out about this one. It's all crisply enough acted, with a few noir trappings imported from America for the finale. But ultimately , all it is is a jolly good show, best enjoyed with a crackling fire and some mighty good sherry.

The 'perfect crime' novel, play, film became so ubiquitous that audiences tended to judge them on how credible the 'flaw' that proved the murderer's undoing and in this case it would struggle to rate three out of ten. Director Arthur Crabtree began behind the camera where he had credits on the like of Waterloo Road; he never really made it as a director but this effort begins well enough, boldly even for the time, because we are not told where Eric Portman has been prior to his entering his (we assume) flat, discovering several business cards signed Love Always and decides to confront and kill the sender. Only then does Portman reveal to Dennis Price that he has been in America for six months thus leaving Price clear to bed Portman's wife, Greta Gynt. He cons Price into writing a letter to Gynt that we - seasoned viewers of 'perfect crime' movies - spot as a suicide note, then coolly offs Price but before he can leave Gynt (who has a key, comes in with new lover, Maxwell Reed. This gives Portman a chance to frame Price for the crime and the 'flaw' comes when Gynt tells Portman she has loved him all along and begs him to clear Price without, of course, incriminating himself. HE AGREES. Yeah, you heard; a man who has found incriminating evidence of one lover (Price) and has had it confirmed by Price himself, then sees and hears with his own eyes and ears how Gynt behaves with a second lover, BELIEVES he pathetic story. There is absolutely no chemistry between Gynt and any of the three men (though to be fair we never see her with Price), Reed is as wooden as always and Jack Warner walks through the detective role, possibly mistaking it for the one he played in It Always Rains On Sunday that same year. On a Saturday night in 1947 at the local Odean this would have been perfectly acceptable. Sixty years on it leaves something to be desired.

Little has been done to breathe cinematic life into this perfect murder stage play. Main problem is that none of the main characters are likable or very interesting. The person I was most interested in was Jane Hylton as the maid. She seemed to have far more going on beneath her servant exterior than anything anyone else managed to muster, (but lesser characters often do intrigue me.)Eric Portman does a decent turn as the cold, reptilian villain, and Greta Gynt (with ludicrous period hair-do and frocks) exudes ice as his missus. It's always good to see Dennis Price, and Jack Warner walks through his part as the detective. I was mildly amused by Maxwell Reed's height. He towered over everyone else - must have been a chore composing some of the shots. The editing is nicely judged, but there's a (perhaps typically British) tendency to shy away from an intimate clinches. Maybe it was a censorship thing, but no-one seems to be allowed to have a decent snog.