Peter Lorre is overrated. Don’t get me wrong, his bug-eyed menace and that inimitable nasal voice are memorable, but that’s exactly the problem—it’s all he’s remembered for. His acting became a caricature, a one-note performance of eccentric villainy that never truly evolved. He was typecast, yes, but he also leaned into it, turning every role into a variation of the same twitchy, creepy guy. The intensity he brought was unique, sure, but it was also limiting. He never showed the range to break out of the box Hollywood put him in.

Now take Cary Grant, a contemporary who towers above Lorre in every way. Grant had charm, yes, but he also had range. He could glide from screwball comedy to Hitchcockian suspense without missing a beat. His comic timing was razor-sharp, but he could just as easily dial it back for genuine emotion. He wasn’t just suave—he was adaptive. He could play the romantic lead, the everyman, the fool, and the hero, all while making it look effortless.

Even in the one film they shared—“Arsenic and Old Lace”—Grant’s frenetic, expressive performance carries the tone, while Lorre is… well, Lorre. Grant reportedly hated his own performance in that film, but even his self-criticism highlights the gap: one actor striving for more, the other content to be a brand.