Monday, August 19, 2013

The Murderer Lives at Number 21. C

I've been seeing a lot of great directorial debuts lately, but one that's certainly not is Henri George Clouzot's first film, The Murderer Lives at Number 21. A confused and dull mash-up of Agatha Christie and Hitchcock, the film struggles mightily to hit any kind of stride. The pacing is dreadful, while tonally it just never finds any sort of consistency. The movie has the feel of a lighthearted murder comedy, but it's never actually funny. It's a murder mystery, but never have I been less eager to find out who the culprit is. I love Clouzot, but there's no question that this is an inept drag. 

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