The real-crime here is the episode's talkiness. From start to finish, it's talk, talk, talk, without relief, set in only 2 connected-rooms, one of which is a garage, I think, with a floor-grate leading to a sewer. Eventually, I realized the plot, such as it was, was meant as a dryly-brittle, tongue-in-cheek farce. It's hard for a viewer to stay focused, though, because virtually-nothing happens, it's just talk--the family-patriarch trying to coach his family on how to explain an embarassing, inconvenient-murder, likely, if discovered, to ruin their social-prominence among the gentrified-elite. Cedric Hardwicke's always worth-watching, though, an actor who conveys dignity & authority, speaking in a mellifluous, dulcet-tone. His restrained-style of physical-movement lends the proper-air to his calm, unflappable presence. The finale is ambiguous. If detectable at all, it flits-by without impact or clarity. I kept thinking the story would evolve into a more-compelling scenario but it never did--and all the talking tried my attention-span. Perhaps this wasn't an issue among the audiences of the 1950's. I believe viewers DID have longer attention-spans in past-decades. Usually, I can overcome this obstacle, as I now actually prefer, at my current-age, conversational-scenes, as opposed to today's hyper-paced action & smarmy-humor. This episode made it tough, though. In short, I'd say watch it for Mr. Hardwicke's droll-performance, as well as John Williams' expressions in reactive-shots, two old-pros interacting with aplomb. The tale itself, sadly, is nothing.
Review of Wet Saturday
