One of Alfred Hitchcock's last films, and also one of those most loved by his fans. A serial killer is stalking women in London, and the police are chasing the wrong man. Unlike most of Hitchcock's films, we know from early on who the killer is. We sit in frustration as the police detective rattles off the compelling evidence pointing to the wrong man, and only the detective's wife says it can't have been him.
This film has special meaning for me, because I've long admired Jon Finch as an actor and have never understood why he's widely unknown, having to make do with minor roles in obscure films.
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