A pre-stardom Robert Shaw kidnaps a rich kid and locks him in a room with a golliwog in which he has stitched a time bomb that is due to go off at the titular time. He's suitably creepy in a film that starts out strongly but which gets bogged down in some lengthy moral/ethical philosophising despite some unexpected plot twists. A visibly ageing John Gregson huffs and puffs as the uncompromising cop tasked with finding the kid.
Review of Tomorrow at Ten
