When I was a kid I had a friend whose sister, roughly a generation our senior, was an avid collector of film magazines and annuals. This was in the UK so I'm referring to essentially 'fan' magazines such as Picture Show, Picturegoer, F. Maurice Speed's Film Review, etc. I beguiled many a rainy hour leafing through this ephemera and a 'still', from a film I'd never heard of, Angel On My Shoulder, stayed in my mind. Is showed Claude Rains and Paul Muni emerging from the ground with some bizarre metal arc over their heads. That was the last I heard of Angel On My Shoulder from that day to this, when it was screened on BBC2 at six-fifteen a.m. This I had to see, still knowing nothing about it, and so I got up early. I shudda stood in bed, as they say in New York. In the few films in which I've seen him I've always found Paul Muni so mannered as to make Emil Jannings look laid-back and this was no exception. In the early scenes especially he looked for all the world like someone in a Silent film being directed to express 'terror' or 'zombie', it was hard to decide. As for hell itself it resembled nothing so much as a German 'Expressionist' version of Gene O'Neill's The Hairy Ape. Claude Rains was his usual suave self but forget any chemistry between him and Muni and forget even more strongly any chemistry between Muni and his 'love interest' Anne Baxter. A couple of days before I'd seen Baxter attempting to scare up some chemistry with Monty Clift in I Confess, so it seemed she was, for a time, lumbered with leading men off whom she was unable to strike sparks. It was definitely worth seeing, especially after waiting a lifetime on the strength of one 'still', but once is definitely enough.
Review of Angel on My Shoulder
