Ralph Richardson stars (he also directs) as a man with a problem. He comes home from work one Monday night and finds his wife (Margaret Leighton) in a tizzy. It seems it's actually Tuesday and he's been missing for more than 24 hours. As the plot unfolds, we also learn that funds from a social club he's in are missing and that the bookkeeper has been killed. Hmmm. Richardson has a memory blackout and cannot account for his actions. Luckily in 1952, we were a kinder world (at least in the movies) and a kindly physician (Jack Hawkins) patiently helps him remember events. An equally patient and kind police inspector (Campbell Singer) also helps him sift through the facts and clues. Amid all this patience, his neighbor and club president (Michael Shepley) is only too glad to jump to conclusions. But patient wife Leighton remains staunch. As the mystery is unraveled, we find that Richardson is not exactly the man we all thought he was, but that he, like all of us, has a few secrets. Late in the film, Meriel Forbes as Peggy arrives on the doorstep and reveals a few things about Richardson. She also steals the film.

It's not uncommon for actors to direct themselves in films but many do it only once, perhaps because they believe in a project, either as vehicle for themselves or just as a vehicle worth bringing to the screen. In 1952 Ralph Richardson felt the need to direct a film of R. C. Sherriff's play "Home at Seven" casting himself as the bank clerk who has a 24 hour memory lapse and then finds himself inplicated in a murder. It's a good plot and if Richardson handles it in a somewhat theatrical fashion he, at least, draws first-rate performances from his cast while he is outstanding as the clerk. After Olivier, I've always felt Richardson was the finest of the theatrical knights to make it in the movies and he doesn't disappoint here. It's a wonderful performance and Margaret Leighton and Jack Hawkins are just as good as his fretting wife and the doctor who tries to help him. The plot itself may be a little far-fetched but the treatment is excellent making this one of the best and certainly one of the most underrated British films of the period.

"Home at Seven " (aka, Murder on Monday) is a smashingly good mystery drama. This is such a different plot, that I don't want to take away the surprise of the film by even doing a review with spoilers. I suspect that those who enjoy very good mysteries would not want even an inkling of how this story plays out. Others may want to read another review that has spoilers or reveals some of the details. But for my contribution here, I'll just say that this is a superb British mystery drama with a cast that includes some of England's best actors of the time. Besides starring as David Preston, Ralph Richardson directed this wonderful film. It was his only such venture behind the camera. Margaret Leighton is his wife, Janet. Jack Hawkins plays Dr. Sparling, Michael Shepley is Major Watson, Meriel Forbes is Peggy Dobson, and Campbell Singer is Inspector Hemingway. This is a fine film that shows superb acting in dramas sans police chases, running from the law, hiding out, and other actions. The film is based on a play by the title, "Home at Seven," by R. C. Sherriff. The film is a good reminder that a lie usually leads to misery for the one who tells it. Or, put more poignantly, the truth never hurts anyone.

Losing 24 hours of one's life can be quite frustrating, especially when the man you despise beyond words ends up dead during that time, the victim of obvious murder. For banker Ralph Richardson (who also directed this interesting sleeper), it's even more frustrating because he doesn't realize he's lost the whole day between his routine life thrown off by the incident. When he ends up being questioned for the murder, it seems hopeless and he makes preparations for the worst with his devoted wife (Margaret Leighton). This British play is well directed and acted in a stagy but enjoyable manner. At times, it seems like a light comedy, even though the situation is extremely serious. The murder plot concerns Richardson's club of which he is treasurer, and the theft of the club's funds, which Richardson had direct access to. A film like this can be messed up very easily by a silly conclusion, which this fortunately avoids.

Though this movie ought to be mainly credited to Ralph Richardson as actor and director, his contribution is totally overshadowed by the performances of the late Margaret Leighton and the late Jack Hawkins. Ms Leighton, playing the loving wife, is eye candy and exhibits her talent for acting (contrast her negative roles in Ford's "The 7 Women" and Hitchcock's "Under Capricorn" and the wonderful, unusual role in Forbes' "The Madwoman of Chaillot".) Mr Hawkins is equally wonderful to watch. Otherwise as a film, it is average entertainment--a film on post-war PTSD made decades before the disorder came into the limelight.

I like and respect Ralph Richardson as much as the next film-viewer, but the plaudits his acting receives in many of the reviews of this film on here are simply astonishing. His acting in this film is just awful - it might well have been passable when he did it on stage like this, but transferred to the far-more-realistic medium of film it appears stilted, clichéd and hammy. Margaret Leighton is decently good by the standards of the era, and Jack Hawkins is unsurprisingly his ultra-reliable self - a top-notch actor by any standards whatsoever. The direction, etc., makes it look not-too-stagey for what is still, obviously, a stage-play.

Yet again Network do movie buffs a favour with the re release of what was, at the time, a main feature and the fact that it came and went without causing a stir says much about the early fifties and I think the farm is safe when I bet it that dozens of movies released around the same time to acres of newsprint are unwatchable today whilst Home At Seven proves very durable. It's a great pity that Ralph Richardson didn't direct himself more on film as he shows the vastly overrated Laurence Olivier how it should be done. With a sound basis in the theatre this engaging 'well-made play' by R.C. Sheriff is an excellent vehicle for Richardson who never puts a foot wrong as a victim of temporary amnesia who 'loses' a full twenty-four hours of his hum-drum life completely unaware - and very plausibly. In real life of course this would be distressing at worst but because this is real life heightened by a dramatist a certain spin is applied via the coincidental murder of a man openly despised by Richardson plus the theft of money for which Richardson, as Treasurer of a local club, has responsibility. Needless to say the matter is resolved happily but not before offering a time-capsule of a way of life now as remote as Atlantis.

Intriguing old-school murder mystery, with a nice angle on an old theme. The story was reasonably well-presented although I feel the amnesia theme was considerably better handled in the classic Ronald Colman/Greer Garson movie "Random Harvest" (1942). The film is competently directed by Richardson although, accomplished actor that he is, I wasn't too impressed with his performance in this movie. I felt his portrayal was a bit - let's say - 'overdone'. The wonderful Jack Hawkins is his usual wonderful self, but I think he'd have been much better cast as the detective inspector rather than the doctor. The lovely Margaret Leighton, as the Richardson character's wife may easily be perceived (looking from today's standards) as perhaps a little strange and overly submissive, but it must be understood that this film reflects early 1950s sensibilities. This film follows the old-school, standard formula of: Missing person - Murder - False accusation - Mystery solved - Happy ever after. Unfortunately, the film fails to allow us privy to the mechanisms of the detective work through which the mystery is solved. We're merely made aware that the true killer has been found, with a superficial indication of how... but no real substance. Regardless, the film is enjoyable. I think it deserves a 6.5/10 so, as half-points are not possible... it's a 6/10.

David Preston (Ralph Richardson) arrives home from work on Monday night just as he always does - or so he thinks. He's shaken when he learns that it's really Tuesday night and he cannot account for the last 24 hours. He's doubly troubled to learn that a man he didn't care for was murdered and a witness swears that Preston was the last person seen talking to the man. Can Preston rediscover the lost day and clear his name? Overall, Murder on Monday (or Home at Seven) is a delightful little film. I enjoyed almost every second. There are two things I can point to that make this film stand out - the acting and the writing. Richardson is perfect as the man trying to discover what's happened to him. You can see the confusion etched across his face. He's joined by the lovely Margaret Leighton as his wife, Janet. I can't explain how much I enjoyed her performance. From the fretting over her husband to the joy she expresses when there appears to be some good news, she's divine. Together, the pair make the perfect on-screen couple. The scene where Preston, over tea and toast, tries to tell Janet how to carry on if something should happen to him is a great example of their on-screen chemistry. They are ably joined by Jack Hawkins, Campbell Singer, and Meriel Forbes in supporting roles. As for the writing, well, I've already used this word, but Anatole de Grumwald's screenplay is simply delightful. The story was intriguing and suspenseful enough that it held my attention throughout. The little pieces of the mystery that point to Preston's guilt unfold nicely. And the solution to the mystery wasn't so far-fetched that I couldn't buy into it. It's a solid piece of writing. Not only did he star, but this the sole directing credit from Richardson's long career. I'm really shocked because I thought he did a fantastic job. Murder on Monday could easily feel "stagey", but Richardson kept things moving at a nice pace. I never once got that claustrophobic feeling you can get from such a small set. And the movie looks amazing. I was so impressed with little things like some of the shots through windows out to the street. Nice stuff. 8/10

Taking a look at UK DVD company Network during their Christmas sale for titles that I could watch with my dad over the X-Mas season,I spotted a Film Noir that I remembered reading a good review for in Empire magazine,which mentioned that this was the lone movie that British actor Ralph Richardson directed,which led to me setting my clock so I could get home and watch the title at 7. The plot: Returning home,banker David Preston starts talking to his wife Janet about how work went.Stopping David in the middle of his stories,Janet asks David where he has been,due to having been away from home (and at work) for an entire day.Telling Janet that he does not know what she is talking about,David picks up the newspaper,and is shocked to discover that he has missed an entire day.Trying to piece together what took place,David finds himself unable to remember anything that happened on his lost day.As he tries to make sense of what has taken place,the police discovery that a member of David's private members club has been found murdered,and that the entire savings of the club have mysteriously disappeared. View on the film: Before I get to the movie,I have to mention that Network have given the title a superb transfer,with the picture being pin-stripe sharp and every forgotten footstep from David being clear to hear. For his lone shot behind the camera, Ralph Richardson (joined by Assistant Director/future Bond director Guy Hamilton) keeps the movie close to its stage roots,as long,stilted takes peel away at David's anxiety over the events that took place.Whilst he does keep things grounded,Richardson boils up a classy Film Noir atmosphere,as elegant low-lighting brightens the fragments of David's memory. Taking R.C. Sheriff's play from the stage to the screen, Anatole de Grunwald gives David & Janet a perfect image,which gradually fractures as David tries to regain his memory.Calming opening up David's "perfect" image, Grunwald casts David off into a shattered post-war Film Noir world,with a wonderfully left-field twist allowing David's PTSD nightmare to be shown in raw daylight. Appearing prim and proper, Richardson gives a great performance as David,whose mild-manner behaviour is given a sharp sense of doubt by Richardson,as David fails to get home at 7.