The Dark Palace

And it was not so surprising, really, that she didn’t recognize him. It wasn’t just that he had put on false whiskers. He had put himself into an entirely different class. He had do

Naturally he knew who she was and so stared at her with a dangerous fixity that was underlined by a reprise of his theme from the band.

She only noticed the ticket collector – with a vaguely troubled frown – when he refused to move on, long after he had examined their tickets. It took an interjection from her husband to prompt him to leave them in peace.

By the time the police found the real ticket inspector in the mail carriage, stripped to his underclothes, trussed up and gagged, his imposter had long since jumped from the moving train.

The couple honeymooned in Venice. Inevitably there was a scene on a gondola, and even more inevitably, the extravagantly mustachioed gondolier turned out to be none other than the former cavalry officer. If there were titters at the implausibility of this, Qui

When the couple dined in a restaurant, the waiter bringing them their food was the former cavalry officer. He stood over them, curling his lip, as they fed each other ice cream from tall glasses with long spoons. The friendly priest who pointed out the mosaics in St Mark’s Basilica – Qui

So it was clear that the psychological explanation was the one that the film was forcing on the audience. Although she was on honeymoon with the Count of Somewhere or Other, Eloise’s character could not get the image of her former lover out of her mind. But just when Qui

On the surface, Eloise remained untroubled by these visions, if indeed she was conscious of them. She dined and danced and visited the sights with her bridegroom. On her lips was always the happy smile of a new bride. But her eyes were a different matter. There was no doubt now that her eyes had a haunted quality to them.

The director again chose to present an extended close-up of those eyes, just as he had done at the begi

A dramatic flurry of high, discordant intervals from the band underlined the significance of this gesture. Her husband’s expression was wounded. To repair the damage, she grasped his hand and held it to her cheek, her eyes closed longingly. She was wishing herself into love for this man. But Qui

The eyes themselves, once objects of beauty, became objects of terror. It was not just the melodramatic music that suggested this idea.

There was horror in their gaze, a dawning realization of the tragedy and abasement that lay ahead. A despair so complete that it took away hope from all who gazed into them.

By another of his clever camera tricks, the director revealed that the isolated eyes were looking down from a cracked plaster ceiling at the former cavalry officer, who was stretched out on the grubby mattress of an iron-framed bed. A metallic object glinted in his hands. Qui

The next scene showed the couple asleep in a hotel suite. The large window was open on a night dominated by an enormous full moon. Eloise stirred and woke as a shadowy figure appeared silhouetted against the moon, climbing in through the window.

She did not cry out. She knew it was him. The man she had seen wherever she looked. He had come for her.

She rose from the bed; they looked into each other’s eyes. And then threw themselves at each other.

As they kissed, the Count of Somewhere or Other woke. He leapt from the bed with a cry, which the band did its best to convey musically. A struggle ensued between the count and the former cavalry officer. But the latter had come armed. A close-up showed a stiletto blade sinking into the count’s soft flank. He fell to the floor.

The lovers confronted one another. Once again, Eloise’s eyes held and conveyed the entire meaning of the moment. The horror that had been nascent in them before bloomed into a deep revulsion. The former cavalry officer had to see that all was lost. Qui

She hated him. There was only hatred in those eyes now.

The next sequence showed the cavalry officer stealing away from the couple’s suite. The band rumbled ominously and then fell silent as the camera returned to the bedroom.

There were now two bodies on the floor. The director went in for his favourite close-up. But where Eloise’s eyes should have been there were two black chasms.

Qui

Of course, he had seen worse in reality. But there was something about having such horrors depicted in art that he found more shocking than to discover them in the course of his professional life. Their representation signified some kind of acknowledgement. It opened a door.

If it was only policemen and police surgeons – and the occasional accidental witness – who were obliged to confront such crimes, they could be contained and prevented from contaminating the wider society. It was part of his job to take these things on himself. It was his responsibility. He thought of Sir Edward’s secretary, Miss Latterly. Her horrified reaction to the little he had inadvertently let slip about his work was perfectly proper. This was how the public ought to view such things.

This wallowing in horror and violence, this fascination with gruesome and macabre spectacle, it was unwholesome. It was obscene. More than that, it was dangerous. Who knew where it would lead?

But the film wasn’t over yet. Qui

The murderer returned to his lair. It was not clear where this was, whether in Venice, or Vie