This is a great old film, with James Mason at his best as the brooding, aloof, complicated hero/villain. It contains a lot of cliches, not least of which is Hollywood's fervent faith in the almost occult power of hypnosis and psychiatry. But it also is full of great moments - the black and white photography seems to sing along with the glorious music. The scene where James Mason, from offstage, watches Ann Todd all alone at her piano, glowing in bright stage light against a blank background is superb. Sound and picture come together perfectly, and Mason's acting matches beautifully, as he expresses emotion struggling through layers of impassivity. The ending might seem a little dated to present-day audiences, with its implication that the heroine can be fully healed of her psychic wounds only by giving herself to one of her three suitors, but for those who like good old-fashioned happy endings, this is a fine one. Only one thing seemed rather obviously ridiculous: in the scene where the German psychiatrist is talking to the German painter who is in love with Francesca, they both carry on a long conversation in heavily-accented English, which becomes a bit comical once you realize how much more natural it would be for them just to speak German to each other.

This unusual little film, featuring James Mason, Ann Todd and Herbert Lom, is a strangely haunting study of a tortured relationship. In the opening scene, a lovely young woman attempts suicide by leaping from a bridge. She is rescued, and a worried doctor named Larsen tries to ascertain what drove her to try to end her life. Her story is revealed; when fourteen, an orphaned Francesca Cunningham is sent to live with her only relative, a second cousin named Nicholas Cunningham. He is a bachelor with no use for females, and makes it clear to her that the only way they'll get along is for her to stay out of his way as much as possible. Francesca is intimidated by his forceful personality and meekly appears to obey, while actually practicing passive-aggressive rebellion. She is lonely and unhappy in his house and he ignores her until a letter from her former teacher---a letter she tries to hide from him---reveals that Francesca has a real talent for music, particularly playing the piano. Nicholas compels her to play for him and is delighted at her ability. Francesca is pleased that at last she has found a way to garner his attention.

Her pleasure changes to sorrow and frustration as time passes and he drives her to practice for hours upon hours, day after day. It seems that due to his ugly and dysfunctional relationship to his mother, Nicholas cannot grow intimate with women beyond a certain point. He evidently adores and cherishes his lovely ward as she grows into a beautiful and accomplished woman. Unfortunately, his affection is expressed poorly as he bullies and intimidates his sensitive second cousin. Francesca eventually rebels more openly by seeking romantic relationships with other men, first with popular musician Peter Gay and then with bohemian artist Max Leyden. Nicholas puts a stop to the first relationship and tries to end the second; he explodes violently and lashes at her hands with his cane. Francesca tries to run off with Leyden but then is involved in a car accident that slightly injures her hands. She awakens and is convinced she can no longer play the piano, though her hands are not permanently damaged, and then tries to end her life. The whole mess swirls around a hauntingly lovely piano piece by Beethoven. Larsen correctly deduces that this music is crucial to healing not only Francesca but also her guardian. When he plays the record for Nicholas, the tortured man flies into an inexplicable rage, shattering the record and dropping his cane, then stomping on the stick when Larsen bends to retrieve it. Larsen realizes at that moment that Nicholas loves Francesca beyond words and has always, despite his cruel bullying of her, wanted whatever is best for her. And oddly enough, on some level, Francesca loves him equally, though she's afraid of the harsh front he wears to hide his true emotions from her. The final scene is fraught with tension when Larsen appears to tell the three men who love her that Francesca is cured. When she appears at the top of the stairway, she runs not to Peter or Max, but straight into the arms of the man who turns away in despair that she couldn't possibly want him. At last, Francesca and Nicholas can love each other without disorder getting in the way. (Since they're second cousins, the relationship is not incestuous; sorry to disappoint those who believe it is.)

The story is hopelessly dated, and the Freudian treatment ludicrous to untangle this tormented relationship, but the bizarre plot is saved by the acting. James Mason is perfect as the wounded and flawed man who cannot openly offer his heart to the woman he loves. Herbert Lom does well with his potentially clichéd role as the psychiatrist. Ann Todd is actually a bit weaker than her co-stars at conveying her inner turmoil and conflicting feelings for Nicholas; she seems to lack the range necessary for such a demanding role. This is a strange yet compelling tale, and a fine example of British genre cinema for its time frame. Great movie for a rainy afternoon or a bout of insomnia.

One of the most delicious thrills for many British and American moviegoers in 1946 was the unexpected sight of James Mason thwacking down his cane on the fingers of Ann Todd as she played the piano. This one scene is probably better remembered than the movie itself. The Seventh Veil was one of the first British movies to deal with psychiatry; it made a lot of money in both countries; it helped propel Mason to Hollywood; and it undoubtedly is one of the great women's melodramas in movies. Surprisingly, after more than 60 years the movie still holds up reasonably well, thanks to Mason and Todd. Please note that elements of the plot are discussed

Women's melodrama? Just hear the names of the two leads...Nicholas and Francesca. If those names don't sound like characters in a steamy Regency romance, what would? But the movie actually is a modern (from the Forties) study of a severely shy young woman's repressed need for love, and her guardian's overbearing need to live his life's dream through her and her talent as a pianist. Francesca's mother had died when she was a child. Her father placed her in a boarding school. When he died, she was 15 and was sent to live with her wealthy guardian in a large London mansion. Francesca was timid, talented at the piano, so unsure of herself at times that she could barely speak. Nicholas, probably 20 years older, was her second cousin. He lived alone in his mansion with only male servants. He was lame, brooding, controlling and a misogynist. One afternoon he learns Francesca can play the piano and slowly entices her to play for him by playing himself. As he listens to her we can see that he is recognizing a rare talent that he most likely, however competent he might be, can never equal. "He was a wonderful teacher," she later says. "He used to say rather bitterly, 'Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.'" He drives her mercilessly for years to train her to excel, and he succeeds. "He never let me out of his sight for seven years," she tells us, "It was seven years of music...of Nicholas turning me into his dream."

We learn all this in a series of flashbacks because we first meet Francesca in a hospital after she has attempted to kill herself. She lies mute in bed, seemingly unaware of anything around her. When finally a psychiatrist, Dr. Larsen (Herbert Lom, wearing a scholarly pince- nez), is brought into the case, he slowly encourages her to speak and tell her story. He tells a colleague that the process is much like the removal of the seven veils, with each dropped veil revealing a bit more, and that the removal of the seventh veil will let us know the patient's truest feelings and desires. And so Francesca tells us in flashback how Nicholas drove her to become a gifted, recognized pianist, how he controlled every aspect of her life, how she thought she had fallen in love with two men and how Nicholas had reacted each time. Finally, Dr. Larsen is able to help Francesca through this. At the conclusion, as she walks down the grand staircase in Nicholas' mansion with Dr. Larsen and the three men waiting below, we know that, as Larsen has warned them, Francesca has become a new woman who will go to the man among them whom she loves and trusts. And as she goes down those stairs, smiling and confident, Nicholas knows that the man Larsen described cannot be him. He quietly limps away and closes the door to his study behind him. Care to guess what Francesca does next?

The movie still works, despite the now clunky approach to psychiatry, repressed love and inner-most feelings, because of James Mason and Ann Todd. Todd was a cool, finely- sculpted blonde who, at 36, had to convincingly play a young woman between the ages of 15 and about 24. She just about carries it off. She also has to carry the narrative weight of the movie, since all we know is largely from her flashback monologues and her scenes in the film. Mason, however, dark and handsome, dominates the movie. He isn't just glowering, brooding and tormented. There is an element of sadistic insistence in his portrayal of Nicholas that keeps us off balance. If Nicholas had ever reached the point of doing some bodice ripping, there would have been a lot of females in the audience sighing in anticipation.