BLIND CORNER (1964)

aka MAN IN THE DARK

British Paul Gregory is a pianist who has gone blind and, turning away from ambitions to write a concerto, becomes a successful composer of pop tunes—we hear a couple of them performed by singer Ronnie Carroll, and Paul is invited to the recording sessions to do some fine tuning. His wife Anne, though on the surface a devoted helpmate, is having an affair with Ricky, a struggling artist. Anne talks Paul into commissioning Ricky to paint her portrait, which allows her to spend large chunks of time canoodling with Ricky. She would like to divorce Paul, feeling only pity now for her husband, but she's used to a moneyed lifestyle which she would lose. Mike, Paul's friend and agent who is no friend of Anne's, reluctantly tells Paul that he saw Anne and Ricky looking awfully cozy together at a restaurant, wanting Paul to hear it from him before he hears it as gossip. Paul investigates, making plans to divorce and disinherit her, while Anne decides that maybe it's time to get rid of Paul in a different way: murder. As Paul is known as a heavy drinker, she tries to talk the reluctant Ricky into getting Paul drunk and pushing him off their balcony. Joan, Paul's secretary, who is a little in love with him, helps Paul investigate and, from a hiding place in the apartment, sees Anne and Ricky kiss in front of Paul. One night, Ricky finally agrees to kill Paul and heads to his apartment, but a major plot twist puts all arrangements in doubt.

Generally this is a by-the-numbers B-thriller with a nifty twist that makes it memorable. Most of it takes place in just two or three settings (Paul's small but nicely appointed place, Ricky's shabbier place, a recording studio) but that's not a liability here. I like that Paul is not portrayed as a saint; he's a little cranky at times but not enough to make him unsympathetic. He's well played by William Sylvester, an American actor who became something of a jack-of-all-trades type in British B-films. He's handsome and stoic and plays blind well. Barbara Shelley is nicely low-key as the adulterous schemer, and the handsome Alexander Davion (Ted Casablanca in Valley of the Dolls) is similarly low-key as the reluctant pawn in Anne's game. The small cast is capably rounded out by Mark Eden as Mike and Elizabeth Shepherd as Joan. Ronnie Carroll was an Irish singer who had a few Top 40 hits in the U.K.; his songs are bland and pointless and he has nothing to do with the plot. There is a short scene in the apartment at night that uses a gimmick that was better utilized a couple years later in Wait Until Dark. Directed competently by Lance Comfort who made a string of eleven B-films between 1960 and 1965. Overall, this was another nice discovery courtesy the YouTube algorithm, probably brought to my attention because I'd seen a couple other William Sylvester movies recently. Pictured are Shepherd and Sylvester. [YouTube]