Private Number (1936) is worth watching just for Basil Rathbone's creepy butler

You should absolutely put this on tonight if you love dusty 1930s soap operas where the rich are snobs and the servants have all the secrets. But if you hate movies where a simple five-minute conversation could solve the entire plot, you will probably throw your shoe at the screen. 🥿

Private Number is one of those glossy dramas that feels like a guilty pleasure. It stars Loretta Young as Ellen, a sweet girl who gets a job as a maid for a super wealthy family.

Naturally, the handsome college-boy son Richard (played by Robert Taylor at his most ridiculously pretty) falls head over heels for her. They get married in secret, which is always a great idea that never goes wrong in these old movies. 🤫

But the real reason to watch this is Basil Rathbone playing the butler, Wroxton.

He isn't just a normal butler; he runs the household like a creepy little dictatorship and has his eyes on Ellen. Rathbone plays him with this slimy, quiet menace that makes you want to wash your hands every time he enters a room.

There is this one scene where he just stands in the doorway, watching Ellen dust a table. The camera lingers on his face for way too long, and it is genuinely uncomfortable to watch.

Honestly, the romance between Taylor and Young is a bit bland. They are both beautiful, but they have the chemistry of two very nice pieces of expensive furniture.

The movie gets way more fun when Patsy Kelly is on screen. She plays the fast-talking comic relief maid and just injects pure energy into every scene she’s in.

If you like the high-society drama of something like Gigolette or the heavy-handed moral struggles in Under the Lash, you will feel right at home here.

Then, the last thirty minutes happen.

Suddenly, the movie stops being a house romance and turns into a wild, screeching courtroom drama. Everyone is yelling, there are shocking revelations, and the pacing goes from a slow stroll to a full-on sprint.

It is totally ridiculous, but I kind of loved how messy it got. The judge looks like he wants to go home the entire time, which is honestly very relatable.

Is it a masterpiece? Not even close.

But for a lazy Sunday afternoon, it is a pretty great slice of vintage melodrama. Just watch out for Rathbone's creepy stares.