Moss Rose (1947)

Directed by Gregory Ratoff; produced by Gene Markey

In late Victorian London, Cockney chorus-girl Belle Adair (Peggy Cummins) is curious about the new man her friend, Daisy (Margo Woode), is seeing. But when Belle discovers Daisy’s dead body, moments after seeing the man leave Daisy’s room, the curiosity turns to horror. She tracks down the gentleman - whom she learns is aristocrat Michael Drego (Victor Mature) - but not with justice in mind, but a peculiar form of blackmail.

Moss Rose is a strange movie, a combination of romance, thriller and whodunit, which doesn’t really succeed in any category. In each case, it doesn’t delve deep enough into the genre.

As a murder-mystery, it has promise. Daisy is found with an open Bible – not hers – next to her corpse, a flower pressed between the pages. The significance of the Bible, marked at a certain page, is ignored, both by the police and the script, and though the flower provides a clue to the smooth and garden-loving Inspector Clinner (Vincent Price), the plant’s actual meaning is never learned. While Scotland Yard commendably centres its investigation around Drego, there is no suggestion that the killer may be someone completely unknown to witnesses, nor is there an indication that questions are asked about who may have visited the lodging house at the time of the murder. Indeed, the solution involves someone who would surely be noticed at such a location.

Another nonsensical element occurs when a character confesses to the murder. There is no reason given for this action; it might be, as another claims, ‘a police trick’. There is a good variety of suspects, but little follow-through.

The predictable attraction between Belle and Drego is without much interest, and there doesn’t seem to be anything in one to appeal to the other, unless it is similarity. At one point, Drego mentions that he and Belle (despite the disparity in their backgrounds) are much the same. This is true, since each is rather casually amoral. Belle threatens Drego with the police, but only to secure from him what she desires, while Drego is willing to pay to be kept out of the affair, with little concern as to who killed his girlfriend.

Moving from London to the English countryside, there is an attempt to create tension in a large, old mansion late at night, with strange comings and goings, locked rooms, family secrets, and the like, but it is not effective. The direction is probably to blame here, though at this point, the story becomes rather creaky.

Despite all of this criticism, Moss Rose is watchable. Cummins gives an earnest performance, and her character is likeable, despite her selfish motives. Ethel Barrymore does her usual fine job. There is, as well, wonder at the form the conclusion will take. And the writers give a genuine depiction of class differences; someone knew their subject. Yet, despite its moderate value as a time-filler, Moss Rose should have been much more, and could have been.