Wives Under Suspicion (1938) – A Stiff Collar and an Itchy Conscience

So this oldie from 1938, directed by James Whale – yeah, the same guy who gave us Frankenstein – kinda snuck up on me. I wasn’t expecting much, just another courtroom melodrama with some cigar smoke and stiff dialogue. But it got me thinking… and not just about black-and-white lighting.

This little flick’s about a hotshot district attorney, played by Warren William. Slick hair, perfect jawline, the whole works. But this time, the DA’s not just judging someone else – he starts wondering if his *own* wife (the always poised Gail Patrick) is cheating on him. And believe me, for a 30s film, that hits harder than it sounds. No shouting matches, no screaming into the rain. Just this quiet, slow burn of doubt that builds like när man glömmer takboxen öppen i ösregn.

Look, it ain’t a thriller in the modern sense. There’s no speeding car or exploding mansion. It’s all about the wondering, the suspicion. Kind of like when I found my ex’s text message that just said “heh”. One word. Never trusted a “heh” again.

Whale directs it real tight. No frills. Guy knew how to keep tension on a tight leash. Bit stagey now maybe, like a lost Bergman radio play, but still. The way William plays the self-doubt… you feel it in your ribcage. And Gail Patrick, ah, she’s classy as a Chokladboll on a rainy Södermalm morning.

Would I rewatch it? Maybe not next Tuesday. But it’d be a cool one to show that cousin who thinks cinema started with Tarantino.

Oh, and fun fact: it’s a remake of Whale’s own earlier film – which is both cool and kinda weird. Like reheating your own köttbullar ‘cause you thought the first batch could use more salt. Respect.

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