Instead we get Englishman Charles Laughton as the great French detective Inspector Maigret, American Franchot Tone as a Czech medical student, and Burgess Meredith as a bright red haired American pretending to be a foreigner of indeterminate nationality.
They spend their whole time running around an eerily deserted Paris, chasing each other in an effort to resolve the question of who murdered a wealthy American woman for her money. Except it's not a who done it or even a who cares who done it because we know who done it right from the start and we still don't care.The film is tedious in the extreme. First time director Meredith shares his character's poor eyesight when it comes to picture composition. The scenes are so unimaginatively presented that it appears Meredith did little more than point the cameras in the general direction of the action. One wonders why he didn't use a little of the time and energy he saved by not being creative to inject some much needed enthusiasm into Laughton's lacklustre performance, and keep Tone's twitchy over-acting in check.
The only real excitement comes in the final few minutes when the murderer tries to evade from the police by climbing up the Eiffel Tower. It's not the most obvious escape route but it does make for some heart-stopping stuntwork and spectacular aerial shots of Paris.
Dull and plodding with sub-standard performances all round, the best thing about this film is it's title.
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