One Paragraph Movie Review: M

Three hundred and thirty-eighth film: M, the English version of the Fritz Lang thriller from 1931 about a child murderer played by Peter Lorre, who doesn’t blink much but does murder children a bit. This is, however, less about the murders and more about the people who hope to catch the murderer. On the one side, as expected, the police. On the other, fed up with how the increased police presence on the streets is inhibiting their usual nefarious business, is a vast network of professional criminals who hope to catch him themselves. The whole time through a haze of everyone’s constant cigarette smoke, Peter Lorre just acts circles around everyone. He excitedly whistles In the Hall of the Mountain King while he follows his juvenile prey. He wails “I can’ help it! I can’t help it! I can’t escape from myself!” when he’s submitted to an impromptu underground trial by thieves. He elicits something like horrified, reluctant sympathy by chewing on his meaty fist and grasping at his anguished watermelon of a sweaty head in despair. It’s hard to believe that this topic muscled its way into cinemas this early in the youthful history of film, but I’m glad it did. Three abandoned balloons caught in telephone wires out of five.