The Singing Silhouette: Audio Dreams and Tuesday Night Lies

Is it worth your time?

If you like old, scratchy movies that feel like they were dug out of a basement, you might get a kick out of The Singing Silhouette. It is not for anyone who needs high-octane pacing or, you know, a plot that makes perfect sense. If you have an hour to kill and want to watch people act very suspiciously in black and white, jump in.

The whole thing starts because Charles Lawrence is bored out of his mind. His wife, Olga Baclanova, is supposedly playing bridge every Tuesday. We all know how these stories go. He is not out there looking for a new hobby; he is looking for an escape. He finds it in a radio speaker.

There is something inherently creepy about falling in love with a voice. The movie leans into this, even if it does not quite know what to do with the tension. The singing scenes? They feel like they belong in a completely different film, like Radio Follies, just dropped in to fill time.

Small moments

• The way the radio glows in the dark room. It is the only real "character" for the first twenty minutes.
• Olga Baclanova has this look in her eyes that says she knows exactly what is going on, but she is too tired to care.
• The lighting in the living room is inexplicably moody.

It is definitely not as sharp as She Married Her Boss, but it has a weird, singular energy. Sometimes the film just stops to let a musical act finish, and the narrative momentum hits a wall. It is a little frustrating, but also kind of charming in a "they didn't have a better idea" sort of way.

I couldn't help but think about how much this obsession would be handled today. No radio, just a phone screen and a rabbit hole of social media. The technology changes, but the desperation stays the same. Charles is kind of a sad guy, really.

The climax—if you can call it that—isn't exactly explosive. It’s more of a gentle unraveling. You can tell the budget was probably spent on the studio sets and not much else. The actors do their best, but they are working with script beats that feel like they were written on a napkin during lunch.

There is a specific shot of a door closing that lasts three seconds too long. I sat there waiting for someone to walk through it, but no one did. Just a door, closing. It’s those little mistakes that make this feel like a movie made by actual people instead of a machine.

Not a masterpiece. Probably not even a hidden gem. But if you like watching the cracks form in a marriage while someone sings into a microphone, it is worth a look. 📻