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Slickly done MGM programmer. It may not be a top-of-the-line production, but it still has the studio's signature polish and glamor. The premise is an intriguing one-- is successful diplomat Powell also a murderer with a bad case of memory. With luscious wife La Marr and an ascending career, he's got a long way to fall if he is. Powell is his usual urbane self, while La Marr and Trevor get to play dress-up, big time, while Rathbone gets a break from Sherlock by playing a rather nasty villain. There's nothing special here, just an entertaining diversion with a rather unsurprising ending. For those interested in European types, this is a good opportunity to catch them under a single roof, as it were-- especially Felix Bressart, whose pixilated professor lifts the sometimes stolid proceedings. Aesthetically, there's one really striking composition of black and white photography. Powell's on his way to the river to end it all. But next to the coursing dark waters separated by a zigzagging wall is a shimmering cobblestone boulevard lit by three foggy street lamps. It's an uncommon depth of field with subtly contrasting shades of black and gray. All in all, it's a real grabber, and demonstrates vividly those values that have been lost in the wholesale move to Technicolor.