A post World War II relative success story under the direction of Orson Welles, this tale of a detective (Edward Robinson, who we like) discovering a nazi war criminal (Welles himself) playing nice in smalltown America isn't a masterpiece, but is a solid, well-made example of the craft. Welles plays Welles rather than his part, unnecessary lectures thrown in and all, but looks good. There is none of the flair that might be expected from the man who had just made Citizen Kane (well...an unfair comparison), and the mood isn't conjured with much spirit. The story's a good one however, the final scenes have true tension, revelling in interesting considerations of the veils of normalcy used to cover the most heinous sins.
Was this the first 'reds under the beds' movie? The entire film seems to be about how the dangerous Other lies within our very midst. This is obviously a key consideration for all cold war Hollywood thrillers/horror movies, but may well see its foreshadowing here. I doubt Welles would have made such quite obvious allusions a decade or so later, his politics far away from the reactionary paranoia of McCarthy-ist influence in 50's-70's Hollywood.
If it does hammer these considerations home a bit too obviously, we still go along for the ride.
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