Opening with a scream in the darkness, Danger Tomorrow lights upon a young doctor and his wife who, as often in films from this time, keep to separate beds. The subsequent hour finds them them entangled by time present and time future very much at odds with what appears to be a quiet life as part of a practice in a small village. This job, as junior to Rupert Davies, comes with an extraordinarily large rent-free house (three floors) where pride of place is given to a new food mixer at which the wife conjures up a victoria sponge while the doctor works in the attic upon an antibiotic, a test-tube-and-retort task in which he is assisted by a sultry woman about whom one might have one's doubts. Add to this the wife's sister who is never slow to accept the offer of a drink, all the more so while her own husband, an Oxford don, is busy at the typewriter with his latest detective story. The first half is perhaps on the slow side, a necessary prelude to high drama. If unlikely to be acclaimed as a lost masterpiece, this small film has much going for it - including gl;impses of an era when doctors smoked pipes in the surgery and went out on their "rounds" rather than expecting patients to ring first thing in the morning in hopes of being given a slot to toil into the surgery.