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6.1/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.1/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Journal of a Crime remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you like old black-and-white dramas that actually feel a little mean, you’ll dig this. It’s got that specific 1930s tension where everyone is wearing fancy clothes but everyone is also miserable. If you’re looking for a fast-paced thriller, look elsewhere; this is a slow burn that likes to linger on faces.
Ruth Chatterton is doing a lot of heavy lifting here. She has this way of looking at a room like she’s already waiting for the walls to close in. You can tell she’s terrified, but she’s trying to keep her posture perfect. It’s a quiet kind of acting that makes the later scenes hit harder.
The whole situation with the mistress feels like it happens in a flash, but the guilt? That sticks around for the rest of the movie. The way they frame the courtroom scenes feels weirdly claustrophobic. You’re watching an innocent person get dragged through the mud while the actual killer is sitting right there, just trying not to vibrate out of her chair.
There’s a moment where she looks at a portrait or a mirror—I can’t quite recall which, maybe both—and she just looks hollow. It’s a simple trick, but it works better than any loud monologue.
It’s not perfect. Sometimes the dialogue feels a bit too stage-y, like someone wrote it while sitting at a desk with a dictionary. But when Chatterton is on screen, you stop noticing the stiff lines.
It’s not a movie I’d watch every year, but it’s stuck in my head. That counts for something, right? 📽️