All Ford bluster without the Ford poetry

The trouble with director John Ford's account of a typical day-in-the-life of a Scotland Yard detective is that it's non-stop blustery talk-talk-talk with none of the poetry of his other work. The wall-to-wall dialog in this movie is delivered as if they were afraid of leaving a silent moment, which is too bad since many of Ford's non-dialog moments in his other movies are filled with cinematic poetry. And then there are those fake backgrounds out the windows with the miniature double-decker buses all jiggling forward at the same speed. Very disappointing.

5/10