I woke up screaming once. I woke up and my eyes for some reason interpreted an overhead light fitting as a flying saucer.
But that doesn't happen in I Wake Up Screaming. Because nobody wakes up screaming.
It was dead good, this. For some reason it seems overly interested in describing people in certain professions as 'slingers', something I might bear in mind when I do some porn blogging tomorrow. The best thing about this film though, aside from Laird Cregar's borderline stalker cop and Elisha Cook Jr., is the fact that it's not just a flat whodunnit.
They do such a good job framing Cregar's obsession with showing Victor Mature as guilty of murdering Carole Landis that we end up doubting it ourselves. Well, I did anyway, I wouldn't want to speak for anyone else.
I'm sorry, I'm going to dunk my head in a sink full of cold water and Vicks. That poster's rubbish as well.