Dial M for Murder

This might be the most stagey movie I’ve ever seen. You can feel its roots in being adapted from a play, especially since the playwright wrote the script. It’s like he didn’t realize movies can have movement and dimension the stage cannot. And that’s the biggest flaw to Dial M. The movie never used the fact it’s a movie to its advantage. 98% of the movie — and that is not hyperbole — takes place in one room in a couple’s apartment. EVERYBODY and EVERYTHING comes to or happens in this room. Yes, yes, “bottle movie” you say. The problem is, a good bottle story takes place in one setting NATURALLY, as a consequence of the story’s actions, not by walking it in because reasons. The episode of Community where Annie loses her pen plays out entirely in the study room because that’s where she loses the pen. But Dial M doesn’t need everything to happen in the apartment, and yet it‘s forced to concede to this idea. You can feel the movie wanting to have an exciting chase scene or a stalking scene or something, ANYTHING, to give the movie some variety. Nope, same damn apartment. If the out-of-apartment scenes total more than 5 minutes of the 105 minute movie, I’d be shocked. And that means the movie is entirely reliant on dialogue to propel the plot forward, which can be tiring. Other than the murder attempt on Margot, every tiny bit of plot detail is spoken, right down to characters narrating what we’re seeing for the benefit of other characters. It’s a shame, too, because Ray Milland plays a wonderfully smug, murderous jerk, and Grace Kelly is excellent as Margot, being manipulated and gaslighted at every turn. Watching Milland’s Tony think on his feet, turning a botched assassination into a frame job and thinking he has every base covered, and trying to find the mistake is fun. All of the acting is great, and Hitchcock does some interesting things with the camera to not have every shot exist at the one plane. It’s a cerebral film, a puzzle to watch someone solve, and for that it’s a decent watch. But it lacks the energy of something like The Lady Vanishes, the sinister overtones of Strangers On A Train, or even the madcap craziness of The 39 Steps. The bottle environment doesn’t create a claustrophobia that creates tension or suspense; it’s one of constraint and suffocation.