ot too long ago in London, Mrs. Maddalena Anna Paradine (Alida Valli) is arrested by an inspector for the murder of her husband, Colonel Richard Patrick Irving Paradine. She’s formally accused of administering a fatal poison to him, brought to a charge room, and met by her solicitor Sir Simon Flaquer (Charles Coburn), who insists that she not despair. Surely the authorities have the wrong suspect. And Simon will be certain to assign distinguished leader of the bar Anthony Keane (Gregory Peck) – the right man for the job. “It’s nice to be married to someone who can help others … even save their lives,” says Anthony’s wife, Gay (Ann Todd).

Immediately, it’s interesting that Keane doesn’t bother to ask about innocence or guilt. He builds his case firstly around external information that he can gather, constructing a narrative long before interrogating his client. Perhaps the most difficult piece of the puzzle will be the public’s perception of Maddalena; some people will assume she married a helpless blind man for his money, before offing him. And, curiously, audiences aren’t given much information about her culpability; her barristers assume they can free her with ease, even though they contemplate unlikely avenues such as suggesting it was a suicide with the help of a valet. Strangely, there isn’t another suspect readily available; the circumstances of the colonel’s death are left in the dark for an excruciating amount of time.

“She’s not a murderer. She’s too fine a woman.” As the picture delays revealing specifics about the untimely demise, it primarily digresses into a love triangle; the more time that Anthony spends with the accused, the greater Gay’s jealousy grows. It’s not as much about the case as it is about how Mrs. Paradine might accidentally get between the happy couple (inexplicably, however, as she’s far too quiet and cold to give so much as a hint of flirtation or attraction or openness to being wooed; it’s one of the most nonsensical of all movie love triangles). To complicate matters ever so slightly, Flaquer’s daughter Judy (an expertly cast Joan Tetzel) wants to investigate as well, hypothesizing about not just the murder but also Gay’s enviousness, while the handsy, unsympathetic Judge Lord Thomas Horfield (Charles Laughton) takes a bit too much of a liking to Keane’s wife. And, perhaps like in “Rebecca,” there’s a haunting presence in the colonel’s estates, both drawing Anthony in and pushing him away simultaneously.

Eventually, a proper mystery begins to take shape, though it’s conducted by the lawyer, not a detective. This muddies the water when it comes to what is deemed proper and improper, especially regarding the collecting of clues and the interrogations of witnesses. But procedures and legality aren’t at the forefront here; Anthony’s absorption in his research transforms into an obsession, while Gay’s imagination runs wild, revealing director Alfred Hitchcock’s narrative influences. Eerie close-ups tend to overtake essential conversations and revelations, generating a precise mood, as if Mrs. Paradine doesn’t exist in the same plane of reality – as if she’s a glowing specter.

Halfway through, the courtroom trial commences, which is the first time that facts are presented, laying out the where, when, and who of the crime. And yet, since Keane hasn’t asked hardly anything of Paradine onscreen, it feels as if he’s completely unaware of all the circumstances revealed during testimonies. Adding to that is the straightforward, procedural nature of it all, often separated by sequences of characters listlessly waiting for a conclusion or a surprise witness or some outrageous outburst, which doesn’t come often enough to break up the monotony. This is, bizarrely, a rather uneventful legal thriller, even with a combative exchange or two. It also doesn’t help that the runtime is overlong, dwelling on Anthony’s senseless infatuation and on how Maddalena basically spends the whole of the film appearing as unconcerned, distant, colorless, and guilty as possible. In fact, she routinely remains at odds with her counsel, as if they’re opponents rather than partners. Comically, as a result, the risk of an extra adjournment provides more suspense than the big reveal at the climax. In the end, though memorable due to its absence of shocks, it’s one of Hitchcock’s least entertaining works (a project that, undoubtedly, led to the far more potent “Witness for the Prosecution”). “Must I listen to more of your silly pity?”

– Mike Massie