Sylvia Russel is akin to Harriet Craig ,one of Joan Crawford's triumphs (1950) ; and Sonia Dresdel's impressive performance compares favorably with her American colleague's.

Sylvia is even more terrifying than Harriet: if eyes could kill ,hers certainly would."Mother's always watching us, her eyes are X rays ". She's a monster , a mentally-ill person , a frustrated woman who hates mediocrity (represented by her meek husband's world which consists of his dog and his roses),who wants power and uses the others as puppets .

She's got everything to live a comfortable bourgeois life: her son and her son-in-law are both doctors .But a routine life does not satisfy her ,the coming of handsome Austin makes her even more destructive .

But it had begun before: a woman asking the vet to put a good old dog to sleep? A mother who warns her daughter against her husband? Who urges her maid to seduce her son-in-law by making her read "lady Chatterley's lover",a book forbidden in the UK till 1960 (an under-the- counter French edition : the novel was first tranferred to the screen by Yves Allégret in 1955 in this country ,but in a chaste way)?

Sylvia gets her kicks by destroying her family's life ; you should see her sweetly smile when she sees her "power" on the others .

This is first-rate film noir ; Sonia Dresdel's piercing eyes (when she watches her sick husband , they will give you the jitters)will haunt you after the viewing .Try to forget them!

The formidable Sonia Dresdel reprises her stage role as the monstrous Sylvia Russell, manipulative, sadistic, and finally murderous. Venerating power and success, she demoralizes her husband and schemes to break up her daughter's marriage, though it is not altogether clear as to what she stands to gain from the latter act. In the course of this she attempts to corrupt the maid, including lending her an under-the-counter edition of Lady Chatterley's Lover, then banned in Britain though available in English versions from France, and quite possible to get hold of if you had the money. (Had the prosecutor in the later obscenity trial, who famously asked the jury whether they would be happy if their wives or servants read it, watched this by any chance?). There is also a suggestion of lesbianism as Sylvia strokes the maid's hair, telling her how beautiful she is.

Though some these days could no doubt advance other explanations for Sylvia's behaviour, the original play opened in 1944, and with her cruelty and belief that the ends justify the means, she was surely intended as an embodiment of those evils we were supposedly fighting. It had been written by Joan Morgan, another remarkable woman, an actress in silent films turned playwright who lived on into the present century. In common with several other British films from this period, including Compton Bennett's Daybreak, and Lawrence Huntington's The Upturned Glass, there is a very dark and pessimistic outlook on human nature, reflecting a general mood of despair at recent revelations to the depths to which humanity could sink. Though there is some hope, in that Sylvia's nemesis comes partially through her son, whom has inherited something of her iron will, and as doctor will be caring for rather than destroying others.

The film's main weakness is the lack of any explanation of why Sylvia's poisonous character has never manifested itself previously during all those years she had been bringing up the family. There is no sign of rationing and few people post-war could afford servants so it is presumably set in the late Thirties. It does remain fairly theatrical, though this enables a great power and tension to build in the final scenes. And some of the acting from the younger members of the cast is remarkably feeble. Nevertheless, this is another British film of its time that deserves to be much better known. Not always an easy watch for dog lovers though.

Sonia Dresdel could not be accused of being an animal lover. In two separate films made the same year she disposed of two beloved pets, Bobby Henry's grass snake in The Fallen Idol (the far superior of the two films) and the family dog, especially beloved of her husband, in this movie. On paper director Tim Whelan was hardly the ideal choice to direct, an American he was at home with low-budget musicals - Seven Days Leave, Higher And Higher, Step Lively - though as it turned out he was quite at home in this low-key British programmer, guiding the mildly psychotic Dresdel on her road to destruction. The stage origins are evident from the first and the lead is a gift for an actress - a long-established wife and mother seemingly basking in two-point five children contentment but inwardly frustrated at the blandness of her existence, a woman who thinks nothing of cutting her husband's would-be prize roses to brighten up the lounge, takes the perfectly healthy dog to the vets to be put down, conspires to destroy her daughter's marriage via throwing the maid at her husband and finally to poison the husband who has shown her nothing but love. There's a lot of time-capsule here and if we're prepared to overlook elementary goofs - Lady Chatterly's Lover was banned in England until the early sixties so Dresdel could not have given a copy to the maid in 1948 - lots to enjoy.