Someone in this scene will end up dead. Maybe for squealing!
The Power Of The Whistler (1945) is a slick anxiety thriller, set in the superfluous narrative framework of someone called The Whistler (also encountered in The Whistler (1944), where it’s equally useless). A man stalking through a busy city nearly gets himself run down by a car, and ends up with a bloodied skull – and damaged memory. When he stumbles into a restaurant and sits down at the bar, young Jean is playing at fortune-telling with the cards, and sees in them a prediction of his death. She takes him under her wing. What’s his name?
John March, he decides, after admitting he doesn’t remember who he is.
Jean, charmed already, takes up the mystery, working off of the clues in his pockets. But it’s her sister, engaged to be married, who stumbles across the fact that the prescription is for poison.
As March’s time marches towards its end, he gradually remembers more and more, and begins his own march, by foot and by train, towards those who tortured him – and Jean comes along for the ride. An adventure, another step into romance – and so much more.
In some ways, it’s too bad about the pitch-fork. It doesn’t really work into the metaphors otherwise present in this story.
If you can ignore the gaping plot hole in this story, this is quite enjoyable, and that gap is disclosed near the end. The acting is more than adequate, the plot was far better than we were expecting, the tension, while dated, is still appropriate, and the comeuppance is apropos. This is far better than its predecessor, the illogical The Whistler, while using the same lead actor.
If you like post-World War II mysteries and thrillers, this may be right up your alley.
