James Brodie annihilates everything in his path: joy, health, his children, his business, his house, and, of course, himself. Stunningly portrayed by Robert Newton in Lance Comfort’s Hatter’s Castle, hat shop owner Brodie is about as maniacal as noir anti-heroes come, but Brodie may be worse because he believes he has righteousness on his side. He terrorizes his meek, ailing wife (Beatrice Varley), his anxious, over-taxed son (Anthony Bateman), his employee (Emlyn Williams), his wife’s caring doctor (James Mason), his mistress (Enid Stamp-Taylor) and every man in town who dares question his claim of nobility. Perhaps his greatest victim, however, is his kindhearted daughter Mary (Deborah Kerr), whom he assaults, humiliates, threatens, and ultimately ejects from his home into a howling thunderstorm. All the actors are excellent, but, to be honest, they don’t matter. This is entirely Robert Newton’s movie: a psychopathic Citizen Kane. Hatter’s Castle is a bleak tale of destruction and shame, the brilliant Gothic sets and period manners deepening the oppressiveness and making the pain prettier.