"The woman in green" is the lovely Hillary Brooke. But what she to do with the Jack the Ripper fiend, now terrorizing London?
Of the 12 Universal entries in the Sherlock Holmes cycle, all starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, The Woman in Green, alas, proves to be one of the weakest. This can only be described as a shame because there's nothing amiss with the players, the camera credits or the production values. In fact, all rate among the top entries in the Universal twelve.
As for the players, not only do Rathbone and Bruce acquit themselves in typically fine form, but the support cast headed by Hillary Brooke must be counted as one of the most pleasing in the series. In fact, critics have often singled out Henry Daniell as the most effectively sinister Moriarty of all time. Mind you, Daniell doesn't have the villainous equation all to himself, but receives superb support from super-seductive Hillary Brooke as the hypnotically radiant title character, as well as Sally Shepherd's evil housemaid and Percival Vivian's chillingly sadistic doctor. Harold de Becker's whining assassin-shoelace man must also be listed in this quartet of horror.
On the other side of the fence, Eve Amber (in her second of only two credited movie roles) shines as the briefly glimpsed but attractive heroine, while Mary Gordon proves as captivating as usual as the definitive Mrs Hudson. Special mention should be made of Frederick Worlock's deft fluency as a necromantic hypnotist (viewers are warned not to gaze too intently at his spinning wheel, or you're liable to go dizzy yourselves).
In this adventure, Rathbone forms a welcome alliance with Matthew Boulton (who also narrates), here playing an intelligent CID man for a nice change. Of course, although he admittedly makes a late entrance, Bruce receives a commendable innings too and actually has a suitably scary sequence all to himself when he enters and explores a supposedly empty house.
Roy Neill's fluid direction, ably enhanced by Virgil Miller's moodily atmospheric, strewn-with-shadows cinematography, raises no questions either. In fact, it's quite impossible to fault. The problem lies with the script. My advice is to just let it wash over you. The plot is so full of gaping holes, it makes no sense at all if you pry into Cavanagh's dilemma. Is he a surgeon? No! Any previous black-outs? No! Any
Of the 12 Universal entries in the Sherlock Holmes cycle, all starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, The Woman in Green, alas, proves to be one of the weakest. This can only be described as a shame because there's nothing amiss with the players, the camera credits or the production values. In fact, all rate among the top entries in the Universal twelve.
As for the players, not only do Rathbone and Bruce acquit themselves in typically fine form, but the support cast headed by Hillary Brooke must be counted as one of the most pleasing in the series. In fact, critics have often singled out Henry Daniell as the most effectively sinister Moriarty of all time. Mind you, Daniell doesn't have the villainous equation all to himself, but receives superb support from super-seductive Hillary Brooke as the hypnotically radiant title character, as well as Sally Shepherd's evil housemaid and Percival Vivian's chillingly sadistic doctor. Harold de Becker's whining assassin-shoelace man must also be listed in this quartet of horror.
On the other side of the fence, Eve Amber (in her second of only two credited movie roles) shines as the briefly glimpsed but attractive heroine, while Mary Gordon proves as captivating as usual as the definitive Mrs Hudson. Special mention should be made of Frederick Worlock's deft fluency as a necromantic hypnotist (viewers are warned not to gaze too intently at his spinning wheel, or you're liable to go dizzy yourselves).
In this adventure, Rathbone forms a welcome alliance with Matthew Boulton (who also narrates), here playing an intelligent CID man for a nice change. Of course, although he admittedly makes a late entrance, Bruce receives a commendable innings too and actually has a suitably scary sequence all to himself when he enters and explores a supposedly empty house.
Roy Neill's fluid direction, ably enhanced by Virgil Miller's moodily atmospheric, strewn-with-shadows cinematography, raises no questions either. In fact, it's quite impossible to fault. The problem lies with the script. My advice is to just let it wash over you. The plot is so full of gaping holes, it makes no sense at all if you pry into Cavanagh's dilemma. Is he a surgeon? No! Any previous black-outs? No! Any