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For much of its generous length, Seven Dials Mystery works quite well as a
fairly standard whodunit (it is, after all, an Agatha Christie crime thriller
with no pretension to credibility). The sprightly mystery - essentially an
espionage yarn in which suspicion falls on a number of people who may be guilty
of stealing a vital secret formula on behalf of a foreign power - has a familiar
ring to it, but the mood is contrived and controlled well enough to keep the
viewer engrossed.
Whatever its shortcomings (key characterisations suddenly changing in
midstream), Seven Dials Mystery is never dull, thanks to the fervent pace
demanded by producer-director Tony Wharmby (whose earlier work in this vein was
LWT's first Christie, Why Didn't They Ask Evans?, tx. 30/3/1980). Everything is
thrown into the pot, including some shameless cribs from the gothic romances of
author Mary Roberts Rinehart, but the main purpose is to keep heroine Cheryl
Campbell constantly moving (whether on foot or by roadster) through various
potentially dangerous situations and settings, from creaky nocturnal corridors
and forbidding secret chambers to more plushy locations (exterior scenes were
filmed at Greenway estate, Dame Agatha's South Devon holiday retreat).
The plot development, though, is rather fragmentary, and the transition
towards the end from an enthusiastic mood to one of grim intensity upsets the
balance; regrettably, nobody seems to have quite agreed on the tone to be
adopted. Nevertheless, the script makes clever use of the material it appears to
be parodying, with breathless 'golly, gosh!' dialogue, an ocean of red herrings,
and an abundant flow of energy from the wide-eyed heroine.
Cheryl Campbell makes quite a character of her youthful, nervous, appealing
amateur sleuth Lady Eileen Brent, known to her friends as 'Bundle' for some
unspoken reason. In the main, performances are equal to the plot's antics, with
Harry Andrews' stern Superintendent Battle, gravely intoning such lines as
"when I say dangerous, I mean dangerous"; John Gielgud performing with a
detached dignity as Bundle's doddering father, in a part not too far removed
from his batty country vicar in Why Didn't They Ask Evans?; James Warwick
flowing with insouciant charm; and Leslie Sands with a practiced air of quiet
menace, while there is much characteristic mugging from that well-bred chap
Terence Alexander.
Adept evocation of the period, colourful characters and frantic pace give the
subject a distinction that probably exceeds its deserts.
Tise Vahimagi
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1. Seven Dials club (4:24)
