Ray Milland Dials M for Murder Without Messing His Suit or Moving a Hair out of Place

There was a time when murder and infidelity was civilized and didn’t require a lot of blood splatter to get the point across. Alfred Hitchcock can definitely remind if you choose in Dial M for Murder.

A leap back has Ray Milland conspiring to commit the high crime with all the decency one would expect from an English subject in good standing of her majesty the Queen. For our purposes, Princess Grace Kelly is the target. No less could be expected.

His marriage dissolving, Milland plays haughty tennis champion, Tony Wendice, and a common divorce isn’t nearly as tidy as a permanent disconnect from the future royal in real life. So Dial M if you dare...

An era long past, amateurs on the grass courts of Wimbledon was the rule, and the life insurance money that goes with her undoing is only the icing on the cake. In other words, there’s no interior fluff in the rage he feels of Kelly’s recent infidelity, and court papers served wouldn’t do the whole discrepancy justice.

The game is afoot.

But the initial, rash impulse to discard his lady in waiting is tempered upon the sudden appearance of an old acquaintance—one whose repute and references are quite assuredly lacking in this 1954 thriller and cinematic landmark.

Doing the serendipity its due diligence, Milland patiently tails Swann (Anthony Dawson). A malfeasance inevitably reveals itself and makes the would-be assassin malleable to whatever mayhem the dear husband demands.

Masterfully pigeonholed to his fate, Swann cannot even hold serve. So, on the unwanted changeover, a thousand pound payoff is the least the gentlemanly Milland can do for the murderous bird he has caged.

All Goes as Planned?

Of course, as in all deeds of dastardly cinematic origin, things go awry and give the dramatics an unexpected turn. As such, Milland’s grounded sensibility begs a hope that he will reassert a course more in accordance of his own good stock. In other words, when Kelly fends off Swann with a pair of scissors, Milland stays true to his duplicitous designation and leaves it to the state to do his dirty work.

This leaves Kelly suitable for framing as he rearranges all the pertinent evidence. At the same time, Milland defers on the tennis whites by placating as the loving husband and supplying the unwitting heroine with just enough conflicting testimony.

As a result, she’s caricatured as a two-timing liar of the English upper crust, and society appropriately gives no quarter. Thus, the high court passes a judgment of death on Kelly’s passive and bewildered acceptance.

Playing it Cool

The tailored suit, manicured hair, and regal stride all remain unruffled and suffice for the villainy which Milland so easily struts. Then, given what the legendary director did to Janet Leigh in Psycho, the noose seemed tightly nestled around the princess' dainty neck.

But England is also home to its share of well-creased, straight-laced, and even-headed good guys. In this, enters Chief Inspector Hubbard (John Williams). Seizing on several loose ends, he doesn’t need to be caught up in Kelly’s grace to get an accurate read on Milland and the row that played out on the couple’s upscale terrace apartment.

The inspector gets Milland himself to replay the key component of the crime and ties the whole story into a tidy, little, English bow. Nowhere to run without any recourse, Milland remains in stride.

So, tea not befitting his demise, he concedes the truth via 100 proof. Whiskey all around, the gentleman can only lament a nearly perfect crime, which ultimately amounts to a cinematic milestone that requires your astute attention.Please like my page at: https://www.facebook.com/My-Movie-Reviews-272401289793471/