Josef von Sternberg, Peter Lorre, and Fyodor Dostoevsky - that's quite a combination. It's a daunting task to put such a long and rich novel into film, and this one in particular, which had Dostoevsky plumbing the depths of human psychology. If you can forgive it for using the novel as a rough framework and appreciate it for what it delivers, I think you'll probably like it, despite what von Sternberg said afterwards.
Peter Lorre plays Raskolnikov, and as always, has wonderful screen presence. He's truly captivating, and works so well with von Sternberg's Expressionist/proto-noir shadows and tight shots. It seems to me he over-acts his part in showing too much agitation early on in the police investigation, when he's not even suspected, and should have been icy cool to let some of that energy build. With that said, the cat-and-mouse game that he and Inspector Porfiry (Edward Arnold) play is fantastic, with verbal sparring, subtle hints and gestures, and each trying to outwit the other. The comic/dramatic scene he has with his sister's suitor is also fantastic, blending outrage with barbs that had me smiling.
The rest of the cast is all strong, and includes Marian Marsh as Sonya, the pious poor woman he falls for and who helps spur his conscience. In the film it's not made clear that her character is a prostitute, as she is in the book. It's also interesting that the second murder, of Lizaveta, the serving girl who walks in on the first, is omitted. Those alterations were quite possibly made because of the production code, but seem to me part of a larger mistake, tipping empathy to Raskolnikov as the murderer of just an evil old pawnbroker because of his poverty, when we should be feeling the horror of a sociopath bordering on nihilist, who murders in large part because he thinks he can get away with it.
As other critics point out, the fact that his conscience is part of his downfall is a bit naïve, but this is an aspect of Dostoevsky's masterpiece. It just doesn't conceive of the fact that there are people out there who can commit these kinds of crimes, and suffer no pangs of guilt at all about it, even if someone else gets wrongly convicted.
As you can see from the direction my review took despite my introductory paragraph, comparisons to the novel are inevitable. How interesting it is to read that von Sternberg himself disliked the film, and did it only out of contractual obligation. Even so, I think he delivered. There is enough here to make the film entertaining - solid direction, clean story-telling, and great performances.
