Another day, another amnesia movie. This one, Shadow on the Wall, is different only because the amnesiac is a child. The poor dear has witnessed a murder, and has been traumatized, which we know because her wooden perkiness transforms into wooden woodenness. In the vulgar reductive Freudianism to which the film pays full credence, the little girl won't be cured until she remembers what she has repressed. Which she does, unsurprisingly and predictably, in the last scene, thereby freeing her father (Zachary Scott) from the threat of execution for a murder he didn't commit. More turbid amnesia waters flowing under the Lethean bridge.
I don't now why I have such a dislike for Zachary Scott. True, he's not a good actor, but it's not that. It might be his mustache, which is far too tidy and trim and which says (to me), "this person can't be trusted." Or perhaps it's his receding chin. Or his hairpiece. His awkward movements. His pathetic attempts at comedy. I can't say for sure.
I think that I must have been mistreated by a Zachary Scott lookalike in my childhood, events that I've forgotten but have retained in my subconscious.
If I could just remember what happened I might be able to free myself of this irrational hatred. Meanwhile, I'm sorry the movie turned out the way it did. I would have preferred it if Zachary Scott had been executed, mustache and all, even if it was for a murder he didn't commit.