a really brutal early serial killer noir a la with an effective expressionist subjectivity to it a la M. combines constant fractured POV imagery + unnatural camera angles + a graceful musicality to the movement/cutting that together develop into a mournfully blurred depiction of artistic and murderous compulsion. there's a fiery delirium to the style that follows the protagonist around as he slowly loses himself to his own impulses/art in these haunting, trancelike suspense sequences and ultimately destroys everything around him. the scorching concerto finale (with incredible music from bernard hermann) is as tragic and beautiful a depiction of an artist being consumed by their work as i've ever seen, and is a really solid precursor to other artist-as-killer genre pieces like A Bucket of Blood,, Peeping Tom, Driller Killer, etc. having watched this almost back-to-back with I Wake Up Screaming it's a real tragedy that laird cregar only ever got to make movies for a few years; he's incredibly sensitive and imposing and expressive in this and if he had he been given decades i think we'd all know his name.

full discussion on ep 238 of my podcast SLEAZOIDS.