Bulldog Drummond is back, and he's still grumpy

Is it worth your afternoon?

Look, if you’re into early talkies that move with the urgency of a sleeping turtle, you might get a kick out of this. If you value your time or prefer your action heroes to have a bit more... spark, skip it. It’s for the vintage crowd who enjoy seeing period-accurate suits and hearing people say things like "what ho!" with absolute sincerity.

There’s a strange energy here. Drummond isn’t just a guy solving a crime; he’s leading a black-shirted platoon of his old war buddies. It’s all very stiff and orderly, almost like they’re playing soldiers in a backyard, except with higher stakes and worse fashion choices.

Ralph Richardson shows up, which is basically the only reason to pay attention for more than ten minutes. He has this way of holding a scene together when the script is clearly falling apart at the seams. Everyone else feels like they’re auditioning for a play they didn't really want to be in.

Odd bits and pieces:

• The pacing is glacial. It takes forever for anything to actually happen.
• The "action" scenes involve a lot of men standing around looking stern.
• Francis L. Sullivan is clearly having a better time than the rest of the cast combined.
• The dialogue sounds like it was written by someone who had only ever heard people talking in very polite, very tense drawing rooms.

It’s weirdly similar in tone to the stuffiness you find in The Scarlet Runner, but without the fun bits. It’s just... very dry. Like a cracker that’s been left out in the sun for a week.

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of The Return of Bulldog Drummond (1934) through its definitive frames.

There’s this one sequence where Drummond is trying to be menacing, but he just ends up looking like he’s forgotten his lines. He stares into the middle distance for what feels like a full minute. Awkward.

I found myself wondering if anyone on set actually believed in the plot. It’s all about foreign interlopers, but the movie seems more interested in how perfectly Drummond can adjust his tie while shouting orders. Maybe I'm missing the point? Or maybe it’s just not very good.

It’s not as energetic as The Arizona Whirlwind, which at least has the decency to keep moving. This feels like a chore. A well-dressed, very British chore.

I think I need a nap after watching this. Don't go in expecting a thriller. Expect a museum exhibit that forgot to get dusted. 🕵️‍♂️