Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror (USA, 1942)

 

A far cry from the short-lived, action-packed, Victorian-set, proto-lad and (naturally) full-color franchise with Robert Downey Jr and Jude Law (as, respectively, Holmes and Dr Watson) that director Guy Ritchie foisted upon the world in 2009 (trailer),* Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror is the third movie of the classic, 14-film B&W series of Sherlock Holmes movies that spanned from 1939 to 1946 and starred Basil Rathbone ([13 Jun 1892 – 21 Jul 1967] of Voyage to a Prehistoric Planet [1965]) and Nigel Bruce (14 Feb 1895 – 8 Oct 1953), the former actor as the legendary detective and the latter as his helpful if usually befuddled friend, Dr Watson.

* Though both this movie and the follow-up Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (2011 / trailer) were quite successful, both financially and as movies, the franchise has long been stalled; Sherlock Holmes 3 has been in development hell forever. Currently, it seems to be inching forward with the same lead actors but a new director, Dexter Fletcher.

Fan trailer to

Sherlock Holmes and the Voice of Terror:

The prior two entries of the classic series, The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939 / trailer) and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1939 / trailer) were period-set and made by 20th Century Fox — indeed, The Hound of the Baskervilles is the first known Holmes movie to actually be set in the Victorian Age of the original stories. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes likewise transpires in that period, but when Universal Studios bought the movie rights for Sherlock Holmes from the Doyle estate in 1942 and took over the series from 20th Century Fox, Universal promptly pulled the legendary detective and his mate out of the Victorian Age and plopped them smack dab into the middle of then-modern England. As it is, when the Holmes films are viewed nowadays, the sudden transplantation of the two into wartime England is hardly jarring at all, as the "modern" world of 1942 now seems just as distant and ancient as that of Victorian England. 

Much more jarring, however, is the noticeable drop in the production standards in the Universal films from those of 20th Century. "A" projects at 20th Century, the series became decidedly "B" programmers at Universal — though the standards remain noticeably higher here in The Voice of Terror than in the cheapest-looking entry of the franchise, the fourth Rathbone/Bruce film and one worst of the series, Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon (1942 / trailer).

Production values aside, like so many classic programmers and low budget Universal movies, all of the Rathbone/Bruce movies exude that special something that makes them eternally watchable and fun despite their often glaring flaws, especially if you're a fan of old movies and you're watching the restored versions. But probably due to production values and costs, Universal handed the project to one of their contract B-movie directors, John Rawlins (9 June 1902 – 20 May 1997), a man well-versed at quickly making no-nonsense, fast-paced second features. He did not fail to deliver, but for whatever reason The Voice of Terror remained his only entry in the series: the series' regular director, Roy William Neill (4 Sep 1887 – 14 Dec 1946), took over as of the next entry, the inferior Sherlock Holmes and the Secret Weapon, and helmed all the remaining movies of the franchise (including the best ones). 

The Voice of Terror is an entertaining if a now at times excruciatingly painful piece of propaganda. But if you ignore the numerous lectures about the glory of England (excuse me?) and how evil the Nazis are — yes, Nazis, like the fascist Republicans of the USA today, are evil, but continually stating the obvious can become tiresome — you have a well-acted, competently directed little thriller which, despite a weak and predictable script,* fully delivers all that can be expected from a low budget B movie — and more. (Besides, considering the time, place and situation that the movie was made, the propagandistic aspects of the film are understandable, if not justifiable. It is hard to have anything good to say about a land that is not only out to conquer the world but is regularly flattening your country.*) So grit your teeth when yet another character lets loose a load of outdated hot air and enjoy the film for its other aspects. 

* If you want to see just how flat, may we suggest you watch the rather pleasant Ealing comedy Hue & Cry (1947). 

Based, laterally, on Doyle's 1917 short story His Last Bow and the actual activities of Lord Haw-Haw, the script for The Voice of Terror was supplied by the Cherokee "eternal bachelor" and occasional "non-romantic escort for Hollywood actresses" [Rollie] Lynn Riggs (31 Aug 1899 – 30 June 1954) and the productive wordsmith Robert Hardy Andrews (19 Oct 1903 – 11 Nov 1976). In then-contemporary Great Britain, Holmes is pulled in by British Intelligence — to be exact, by Sir Evan Barham (character actor Reginald Denny [20 Nov 1891 – 16 Jun 1967], whose final role was in Batman [1966 / trailer]) — to find out who is behind "the Voice of Terror", an English-language Nazi broadcast that is subjugating England to a regular aural attack, forever revealing some new terrorist abomination over the airwaves, seemingly the very moment the event occurs. (If the scene of the train derailment looks familiar, it is because it was lifted directly from The Invisible Man [1933 / trailer].) Later, when Gavin (the always uncredited Robert Barron [3 Apr 1898 – 22 Apr 1958]), one of Holmes' stoolies, literally falls dead through the sitting room door at 221B Baker Street as he gasps the name "Christopher", Holmes, with Watson in tow, enters the underbelly of London to find out what the important clue might mean. In a sleazy bar Holmes convinces Gavin's Kitty (Evelyn Ankers [17 Aug 1918 – 29 Aug 1985]) to help him, and in an eloquent speech about what is to be English, she basically convinces every criminal in the city to lend a helping hand. (Big flaw in the story here: even if we accept that Kitty is the Mark Anthony of cheap ladies of the night, the fact is that just before Holmes enters the bar, the Nazis almost kill him with a thrown knife, so if the unknown bad guys are so close, why don't they recognize Kitty later when she integrates herself into the personal life of the movie's main Nazi Meade [Thomas Gomez (10 Jul 1905 – 18 Jun 1971) of Phantom Lady (1941)]?) Slowly Holmes gets on the right track, convinced both that the Voice of Terror is out to do more than simply strike fear in the hearts of England and that it is somehow connected to the very heart of the British government. Could one of the very men for whom he is working be a spy? 

Amongst the various plus points of The Voice of Terror is the occasionally truly fun humorous interaction between Holmes and Watson — as when Watson stops Holmes from donning his traditional hunting cap, or when Holmes reveals to a completely amazed Dr. Watson that he knew they would be met by a woman because he had been told so in advance — as well as an outstanding performance by Thomas Gomez as Meade, the most repulsively evil of all the Nazis. (The Voice of Terror is Meade's first silver screen credit; already a known Broadway actor at the time, his face is a familiar one to many a couch potato, as he was a regular guest star on the classic TV shows of the 60s and early 70s.) 

Equally noteworthy in The Voice of Terror is famed Queen of Screamers Evelyn Ankers as Kitty, yet another slattern with a patriotic heart of gold. Ankers, who mostly left the biz in 1950 at the age of 32 to play housewife and died of ovarian cancer on Maui in 1985, was one of the industry's most popular vocally exuberant B-movie heroines throughout the 1940s and can be found in many an entertaining minor classic, dud and non-dud of the time; she returned two year later to play a new character in one of the best of the Sherlock Holmes franchise, The Pearl of Death (1944 / trailer). 

Oddly flat, on the other hand, is the usually dependable Henry Daniell (5 Mar 1894 – 31 Oct 1963] of The Body Snatcher [1945]) as the unlikable red herring Sir Alfred Lloyd. Daniel eventually went on to replace Lionel "Pinky" Atwill (of The Vampire Bat [1933], House of Frankenstein [1944] and so much more as Moriarty in The Woman in Green (1945 / a trailer) and excel.