The Shadow Strikes – A Big Coat, a Bigger Voice, and Some Wobbly Shadows

You ever sit down to watch an oldie right after a rain shower, when the windows are fogging up and everything in Stockholm looks extra noir? That’s how I first saw *The Shadow Strikes*, back in October 2002. I was freezing, just got back from a piss-poor date at Blå Porten, still in my ugly puffer jacket, and honestly, this film ended up being weirder company than the date.

So, *The Shadow Strikes*, directed by Lynn Shores (who’s like one of those guys who directed tons but who’s gonna remember, honestly?), is from 1937 and it’s got that dust-on-the-film look, like even the film reels are tired. Rod La Rocque! What a name. There’s something both fancy and kind of silly about him, and his Lamont Cranston has a voice that could probably break glass if he got testy enough. Real stagey, you know, but that’s half the fun.

And then the plot – crime, inheritance, everyone being sneaky. I think you maybe need three cups of coffee and a notepad to keep track, especially if your Swedish brain is getting a bit soft round 23:00. Definitely not Bergman-level subtlety here. There’s a kind of delight watching an American crime yapper try to be as moody as possible in rooms where the shadows are very obviously painted on.

But, there’s something still charming about it. You see the roots of comic adaptations – like where superheroes started being weird and mysterious. Reminds me of sitting at my grandma’s place in Borås, watching black-and-whites and sneaking an extra kanelbulle.

It isn’t exactly a masterpiece, maybe not even *good* in the classic sense, but if you love old crime stuff or want to see where Batman’s moody cousin might’ve borrowed his schtick, give it a try. Just don’t expect Klarna-level smoothness. Get cozy, grab a coffee, and let your brain wander – that’s how I’d play it.

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