Sad Ending, for a Master

"Suspicion" is a movie with a fine director, excellent cast, wonderful settings, a story heading in the right direction and a bum ending. Ah, what might have been.

Joan Fontaine plays Lina McLaidlaw, a painfully shy woman who falls for someone who isn't what he seems. Cary Grant is Johnny Aysgarth, a charming gambler who lives life close to the edge but isn't what McLaidlaw thought he was.

McLaidlaw and Aysgarth meet on a train, the latter traveling in first class using a third-class ticket. As with many aspects of his life, he manages to get away with this misdeed, talking his way past the conductor's challenges.

The early part of the film is takes a light, romantic comedic approach—he teases her and routinely calls her “monkey face,” while they fall in love. Soon, Aysgarth and McLaidlaw are married and rather quickly, the tone of the film changes.

Shortly after their return from their honeymoon to a pricey mansion he's found for their home, she discovers that he isn't at all what she had thought. He has no job, no obvious source of income and clearly expected that her wealthy, blueblood father (played by Sir Cedric Hardwicke) will provide for them.

Meantime, Aysgarth is trying to survive by moving from one loan to another. She grows more wary of him, especially after the mysterious death of his business partner. She begins to suspect him in the murder. The tension is palpable and growing. Her fears intensify as Aysgarth begins showing more and more interest and knowledge of poisons, plumbing the knowledge of a medical expert at a dinner party one night. And letters from an insurance company inform her that he’s been trying to borrow against her life insurance policy. She begins to pull away from Aysgarth and he grows worried, suspicious of her but also suspicious in his own behavior. Neither seems able to communicate with each other. He realizes something is wrong; she is too frightened to confront him.

Finally she decides to head for her father’s home, planning to drive along a narrow, cliffside road. He insists on driving her himself, and this leads to a long, rather frightening scene where you fully expect the car to crash. Along the way, the truth is finally revealed. That’s all I’m saying about the outcome.

The movie is not lacking in scary moments—certainly we begin to believe her fears about him. His acting, his charm turning to menace in her eyes as she begins to suspect him, is a fine piece of work. Even something a simple as his smile, normally so radiant and pleasant, seems threatening when seen from her viewpoint. She is a bit of an alarmist, rather unable to help herself, it seems, which adds to her danger and our fears for her, all of which make sense, based on what we know about him.

Maybe Cary Grant didn’t want to play a murderer; maybe the ending was supposed to be a plot twist on what was building as a great psychological thriller. Whatever the reason, the ending falls short and we’re left admiring the work of the actors, rather than the writing and storyline, an exception for an Alfred Hitchcock movie.