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I've watched this film a couple of times and it has a strange fascination despite some obvious flaws. The script and direction are patchy and Henry Hull isn't the most exciting lead, even allowing for his character's obsessive, introverted nature (Colin Clive did it better).

What struck me on second viewing is that the film works best as a study of male insecurity and sexual jealousy. Hull more or less ignores Valerie Hobson, yet is clearly intensely possessive. Former beau Lester Matthews can't wait to get his hands on Hobson, sensing his opportunity when Hull goes hyper-wacko. There's something discomforting about the middleaged Hull being paired with the teenage Hobson (the Clive-Hobson pairing in 'Bride of Frankenstein' doesn't bother me the same way). Matthews, a decade younger than Hull, still looks far too old to have been a childhood friend of Hobson.

Mrs Whack and Mrs Moncaster are a bizarre comedy duo, knocking each other cold over minor disagreements. Spring Byington's tipsy maiden aunt is probably an acquired taste, but she works for me.

The London setting is so unconvincing I can't believe Universal expected anyone to believe it. They could at least have included some cheery Cockneys doing the Lambeth walk.

I run hot and cold on the minimalist werewolf make-up. In some shots, it looks genuinely eerie; elsewhere Hull resembles a scruffy half-wit with anger management issues.

Warner Oland is much better than Hull and I wish the script had focused more on his character, Yogami, a sympathetic figure despite his tendency to steal and kill.