The writing team of Keith Waterhouse and Willis Hall have done little to uplift this adaptation of a novel called The Furnished Room.
This is only hackneyed drama about a young man (Alfred Lynch) who is a layabout, a misfit, a self-pitier (‘I’m an emotional leer,’ he says, profoundly). He gets involved with chicks, can’t keep a job and gets mixed up with jazz clubs and seedy parties. Turning point in his life is when he meets up with Richard Dyce (Eric Portman), an ex-army con-man. He is talked into an association with Portman, who wants his aunt bumped off.
It has its merits. The sleazy London locations are very authentically shown. Perhaps too authentically. Lynch is an intelligent actor but, in this instance, he fails to induce any pity. Probably the fault of the script. Kathleen Breck, his girl friend, copes reasonably. It’s her first film part after a small experience in stock.
