6.9/10
Senior Film Conservator

A definitive 6.9/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Barretts of Wimpole Street remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you like movies where people spend two hours sitting in velvet chairs and talking about their feelings in very specific, flowery sentences, you’ll dig this. It’s basically a stage play that someone decided to film with a camera that barely moves. If you need explosions or even a single shot of the outside world that lasts longer than five seconds, stay far away.
Charles Laughton is the real gravity here. He plays the father, and he doesn't have to yell to make your skin crawl. He just kind of… hovers. He stands in doorways and looks at his children like they’re disappointing pieces of furniture he hasn't gotten around to selling yet.
Flush the spaniel has more charisma than half the supporting cast. There’s a scene where he just stares at Robert Browning, and honestly, I felt the exact same way. It’s a nice break from the suffocating tension of the drawing room.
Speaking of Browning, Fredric March is doing a lot of work. He comes into this house of gloom like a guy who just drank five cups of coffee and wants to reorganize the furniture. It’s supposed to be romantic, but sometimes it feels like he’s trying to break the poor woman out of a prison camp. Which, I guess, he kind of is.
The pacing is… well, it’s not really pacing at all. It’s just people walking from one side of a rug to the other. There is a lot of hand-wringing. So much hand-wringing that I started wondering if they were ever going to actually leave that house.
It’s funny, I was watching this and thinking about The Thief, which has about as much silence as this movie has dialogue. They are complete opposites. Sometimes I prefer a movie that doesn't feel the need to fill every single second with a monologue about soul-crushing piety.
The lighting in the bedroom scenes is so dark it looks like the power went out in 1845. I’m not saying it’s bad, but I kept adjusting my screen thinking I’d lost the picture. It creates this heavy, claustrophobic vibe that makes you want to open a window, which is probably the point. Mission accomplished, I guess.
It’s not a movie you watch for fun, really. It’s a movie you watch because you’re curious about how much drama you can squeeze into a single hallway. It hits hard in places, especially when the sisters are just whispering to each other, terrified of being overheard. 🕯️

IMDb —
1928
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