But a Butler!

In a cavernous Manhattan mansion that breathes like a wounded animal, Vera Reynolds glides through candle-lit corridors as Lillian Devereux, an heiress whose every inherited dollar weighs like a manacle. Her days are an exquisite ritual of lace gloves, scandalous whispers, and the ticking of a grandfather clock that always runs ten minutes fast—an omen she refuses to heed. Into this mausoleum of propriety swaggers Eddie Barry’s Arthur Grimble, a butler hired for pedigree yet radiating the feral magnetism of a dockyard brawler who once read half a volume of Nietzsche and never shut up about it. Between the clinking of absinthe glasses and the hush of silk stockings sliding over mahogany banisters, the film stages a hypnotic danse macabre: every polished teaspoon reflects not service but surveillance, every bowed ‘sir’ a veiled threat. When Lillian’s fiancé—a bland trust-fund colossus—vanishes during a moonlit fox hunt, the household’s veneer cracks; suddenly the butler’s gloves conceal blood-flecked fingernails, and the lady of the house discovers that the true estate bequeathed to her is a labyrinth of blackmail letters, illegitimate birth certificates, and a single, terrifying blank space on the family tree where her own name should be. Cinematographer Hal Mohr treats shadows like velvet drapery, letting them swallow whole sections of the screen so that a gloved hand or a trembling lip emerges as if from oblivion. The climax erupts during a thunder-sodden masquerade: chandeliers sway like gibbets, confetti becomes a storm of moths, and Reynolds’ face—lit only by the cyan flicker of a short-circuiting lamppost—registers the dawning horror that the servant has become the architect of her identity, rewriting her past with every polished anecdote he’s fed the guests. In the final shot, dawn creeps over the Hudson; the butler, now dressed in the fiancé’s signet ring and waistcoat, offers Lillian breakfast on a silver tray. She lifts the dome to find nothing but her own monogram, freshly engraved—proof that ownership itself has changed hands.