Hitchcock, going through his paces, does a mad-strangler plot with only a modicum of style. Most of his noteworthy moves are dictated by textbook anyway: frustration is denoted by having a character stomp on a sack of grapes or, that old standby, shatter a wine glass in his bare hand. The script by Anthony Shaffer skims over any situation of potential interest, and the characterization of women is sniggeringly ungallant. With Jon Finch, Anna Massey. (1972) — Duncan Shepherd
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