skjam

A Shriek in the Night (1933) dir. Albert Ray

This movie delivers on the title right after the credits as wealthy philanthropist Adam Harker (uncredited) plunges screaming to his death from the skyscraper apartment building he lived in. The obvious assumption is that he fell from the balcony of his penthouse. So it's there that Police Inspector Russell (Purnell Pratt) and his meek assistant Wilfred (Arthur Hoyt) go looking for initial clues. There they meet Mr. Harker's live in secretary, the lovely Miss Terry (Ginger Rogers) and dim-witted housekeeper Augusta (Lillian Harmer). Both claim to have been asleep at the time.

The inspector suspects not all is as it seems, and he's right. "Miss Terry" is actually Pat Morgan, a newspaper reporter who had gone undercover to infiltrate Mr. Harker's life as her editor Perkins (Clarence Wilson) had suspected the philanthropist had a darker side. She's discovered a clue she hasn't told the police about yet, and tries to phone a preliminary story in to her paper.

However, rival reporter Ted Rand (Lyle Talbot) has managed to access the apartment with a "borrowed" police badge, and uses the phone extension to trick Pat into thinking she's talking to the "rewrite man" at her paper. Armed with her juicy inside knowledge, he steals the scoop. Despite the friction this causes between the two, they're soon forced to work together to investigate the continuing deaths.

Inspector Russell has his hands full dealing not just with the nosy reporters, but the many suspects. Harker had been having an affair with the married woman in the apartment directly below his, and her husband is missing. He'd also been getting late night visits from Josephus Martini (Maurice Black), reputed racketeer. And then there's the building staff, Peterson the janitor (Harvey Clark) and the maid (Louise Beavers).

This is a relatively early movie for Ginger Rogers, before she got teamed up with Fred Astaire for dancing roles. Her Pat is cute and sharp-tongued, particularly toward Ted. Unsurprisingly, while frequently quarreling, it's clear that they have romantic feelings for each other. This makes the movie more of a comedy-mystery. Lyle Talbot is good in this role, assured and daunting.

Inspector Russell isn't particularly stupid, which is a nice change for police detectives of this vintage, but he's hampered both by the reporters withholding evidence, and an assumption he's made about the people around him.

Louise Beavers' character is stuck with the stereotypical "black people are scared of spooky stuff" routine, though it might also be a classism thing as white Augusta is also comic relief. The latter is a big fan of Detective Fiction Weekly, which I reviewed some years ago.

This isn't a top-flight movie, the coda is particularly weak, but it's enjoyable and only an hour long. It might make a good double feature with a grittier mystery. Recommended to fans of 30s comedy-mystery.

Too Many Winners (1947) dir. William Beaudine

Private eye Michael Shayne (Hugh Beaumont) and his secretary Phyllis Hamilton (Trudy Marshall) have been invited for a duck hunting vacation with one of her relatives. Phyllis is looking forward to this, so is irritated when Gil Madden (Ben Welden) enters, looking like a client. She quickly informs him the office is closed, only for Mr. Madden to say that he'd planned to offer $2000 for Mike not to take a case. Oops! Then Michael gets a call from Mayme Martin (Claire Carlton), a vampish blackmailer offering a hot tip. Naturally, he's off to investigate, promising he'll be right back.

The meeting is inconclusive, as Mayme wants cash up front, and the hints she's giving are for a case Shayne isn't involved with. A thousand dollars is a lot of money for information that might be useless. Outside the apartment building, Mike is abducted by two thugs who want to know what he learned from Mayme, and don't believe him when he truthfully admits he didn't learn anything. They beat him up and toss the detective into the City Dump.

When Shayne finally makes it back to the office a few hours later, the rightfully steamed Phyllis has left on her own, leaving a message about a persistent caller. This turns out to be the owner of the Santa Rosita racetrack, who needs a private eye, and asks him to meet with track manager John Hardeman (Grandon Rhodes) in the Santa Rosita Hotel. Now that he's on the case, Mike asks reporter pal Tim Rourke (Charles Mitchell) to visit Mayme and pay her for the information.

Tim arrives just in time to meet police detective Peter Rafferty (Ralph Dunn) who's investigating Mayme's murder. Tim's presence and peanut shells in an ashtray leads Rafferty to suspect his old enemy Michael Shayne is mixed up in this somehow.

At Santa Rosita, Mike meets with Hardeman and finds out what the case is about. The racetrack has had too many winning tickets recently, consistently more than the number they actually sold. Therefore, someone must be counterfeiting betting slips wholesale--but how? The local police resent Shayne being called in, but they haven't been able to figure the case out, and the track's been losing enough money to not be profitable.

Can Michael Shayne crack the case and win back Phyllis, and how many people will need to die to do this?

This is the last of the Hugh Beaumont Shayne movies (though not the last I will review), and the cast switches up a bit again. The dialogue is still snappy, and the comedy bits hit often. Special callout to George Meader as put-upon hotel clerk Clarence.

This version of Phyllis has a quicker temper than her predecessors, and Mike treats her pretty badly. Because the movie is meant as light-hearted, no one seems very broken up about the multiple corpses, with one exception who's given a sympathetic family so Shayne tries not to make things worse for them.

This is a middle of the road low-budget series film, and perhaps it's best that the studio pulled the plug at this point before the movies really declined. It's short, so I'd recommend it as a double feature with a more gritty mystery. Recommended for lighter mystery fans.

The Case of the Velvet Claws (1936) dir. William Clemens

Perry Mason (Warren Williams) invades the night court of Judge Mary F O'Daugherty (Clara Blandick) with an urgent matter--marrying his secretary, Della Street (Claire Dodd)! As the happy couple pose for the press photographers, Perry announces his retirement from criminal law. From now on he will only handle civil suits, which will not place him in nearly as much danger. Now the newlyweds are off to Pinehurst resort for their honeymoon. Except that last part's not true. Knowing that his friends are all merry pranksters, Perry has his private detective sidekick Spudsy Drake (Eddie Acuff) to drive him and Della back to his apartment.

Not that this makes things any smoother for the newlyweds. Concealed within the apartment is a desperate woman (Wini Shaw) with a gun. The woman, who we will come to know as Eva Belter, forces Perry to take a $5000 retainer at gunpoint. She is, she says, the "other woman" politician Peter Milnor (Kenneth Harland) was seen with in a certain location. Proof of this has fallen into the hands of Frank Locke (Addison Richards), the editor of "Spicy Bits", a scandal sheet, who's using it to blackmail Milnor. She wants smart lawyer Mason to keep the story out of print by any means necessary.

Locke isn't persuadable, but Perry Mason is a sharpie, and figures out he isn't really the boss of the paper. The secret owner is a man named George C. Belter (Joe King). Perry confronts the man, but even the threat of legal action isn't going to convince Mr. Belter (as he's perfectly willing to punish his unfaithful wife along with the politician.) Later that evening, Eva confronts her husband with that gun we mentioned earlier, and fires a shot.

Mr. Belter is found dead with a bullet in him, and Mrs. Belter is a top suspect. But so is Perry Mason, especially as Eva is trying to frame the lawyer for the murder. Can Perry figure out whodunnit, clear his name, and finally get some alone time with his blushing bride?

This fourth Perry Mason film is the last with Warren Williams, but is loosely based on the very first Mason novel by Erle Stanley Gardner. It kind of makes sense for the finale of his version of the character to finally resolve his relationship with the lovely Della, even if this never happened in the books.

Despite how bleak things are looking for our favorite attorney, there's still quite a bit of humor. Perry catches a cold and spreads it to multiple people, and Spudsy dons a series of bizarre "disguises" while searching for background information.

Mr. Williams and Ms. Dodd do a good job as the frustrated romantic leads, and there are some nifty moments. Still, it felt like the comedy was used a bit too much to stretch the run time, which is weird because it's only just over an hour.

If you watched the previous three Perry Mason movies, this one is a decent capper, but I would not recommend it without having seen at least one of the others to get used to this version of the character.

Maigret and the St. Fiacre Case (1959) dir. Jean Delannoy (French title: Maigret et l'affaire Saint-Fiacre)

It's difficult to imagine, but Jules Maigret (Jean Gabin) was not always a police commissioner. As a boy, he lived in the rural village of Saint-Fiacre, where his father was the steward for the chateau of the Count de Saint-Fiacre. He was in his early teens when his father died, and Jules was taken to Paris. Maigret has never lost his rose-tinted memories of the village. So when the now-widowed Countess de Saint-Fiacre (Valentine Tessier) tells him she has received a threatening letter, he is quick to take some time to visit.

The letter states that she will die before the end of Ash Wednesday Mass, an oddly specific threat. It is possibly just meant to scare her, but always there is the possibility of a real menace, as experienced policeman Maigret well knows. The Countess introduces him to the staff as an antique dealer, a plausible excuse. The once-sumptuous chateau has been stripped of much of its art and fancy furniture, and its library of the more salable books, but there are a few choice pieces remaining. The Countess' secretary Lucien Sabatier (Robert Hirsch) supplements his income by writing art criticism for the nearby small city of Moulins' newspaper. He also gives the Countess her medical injections at night, but all seems to be in order so Maigret gets some sleep, waking up and dressing by 7:20 A.M.

Alas, Maigret has let one vital fact slip his mind. On Ash Wednesday in rural France, the first Mass starts at 7 A.M. The Countess has already left! Maigret has a little relief when he arrives at the church and his old friend is still alive, but after the Mass is complete she does not move. And when Maigret checks on her, the Countess is dead!

Dr. Bouchardon (Paul Frankeur), the Countess' personal physician, is quick to write off the death as an ordinary heart attack. After all, she'd had a heart condition for some time now. Maigret thinks otherwise--a heart attack predicted so precisely is nothing ordinary! Before much else can be done, Count Maurice de Saint-Fiacre (Michel Auclair), the Countess' wastrel son, arrives. There's been a false report of his suicide printed in the Moulins newspaper, and he wants to get to his mother before she hears of it. He supposedly was not in the village last night, and claims to be shocked that she's dead.

Sabatier was in Moulins last night, at the newspaper, but claims to know nothing of the false report. The priest (Michel Vitold) is acting suspiciously. The new steward Gaultier (Camille Guérini) has grudges against both Sabatier and Count Maurice. There's plenty of suspects, and Maigret is beginning to regret returning to his childhood home.

Jules Maigret was created by Georges Simenon (1903-1989), appearing in 75 novels and 28 short stories between 1931-1972. The works have been adapted many times, this particular movie being the middle of a set of three from the 1950s and based on a 1932 novel.

The story is a bit atypical for Maigret, without any of his usual supporting cast, not even mentioning his wife. Since he is out of his jurisdiction, Maigret has no official powers of investigation or arrest. (From what I've read, this is more of a plot point in the novel.) An amusing bit is that as the movie is in black and white, like the books it must be purposely brought up that his eyes are a distinctive shade of blue.

There's a lot of sadness in the movie for Maigret. The empty spaces on the chateau walls and the marks where furniture used to be. The loss of someone who was kind to him as a child, and the offenses to her dignity. The slow decay of his childhood village. Even the season lends itself to the feeling as Ash Wednesday is the beginning of Lent in late winter, a time of fasting and repentance.

At one point, Maigret talks to the editor of the newspaper as to why the false news was printed. It seemed to come from a reliable source (faked) and if the editor had refused to print such an important story and it was real, he would have been fired. But since it was false, the paper can simply print a retraction. It's not like a false newspaper story would kill anyone...right?

Despite the diabolical murder method, the mystery itself is slow going, but we do get the climactic dinner party with all the suspects gathered, and Maigret setting them against each other before revealing which is the murderer.

Content note: Murder, of course. Almost no violence, though Maigret is within a trice of slapping a man who's been enormously offensive and manhandles a suspect. Intimations of extramarital sex. Some slightly racy dancing in the basement "Hula Hoop" nightclub. A fair amount of alcohol use, and Maigret is a pipe smoker, including lighting up in a "no smoking" area. 

This is a quiet, serviceable mystery movie. While I'd recommend it most to fans of the Maigret books or other adaptations, it would serve well as a standalone introduction to the character for mystery fans who haven't seen anything else with Maigret yet.

The Dragon Murder Case (1934) dir. H. Bruce Humberstone

There's a party at the Stamm estate tonight. Socialite Monty Montague (George Meeker) has become engaged to lovely Bernice Stamm (Margaret Lindsay) and it's time to celebrate. However, tensions are high. Ichthyologist Rudolph Stamm (Robert Barratt), Bernice's brother, has taken to drink, ignoring the suggestions of his butler Trainor (Arthur Ayleworth) that he might want to cut back a bit. Dale Leland (Lyle Talbot), a childhood friend of the Stamms and the person Bernice has always seemed likely to marry, is suspicious of the arrangement. Ruby Steele (Dorothy Tree), Monty's ex-girlfriend, is also not too keen on this marriage. Ken Tatum (George E. Stone) and Greeff (William B. Davidson), expedition partners to Rudolph in the past, are just disagreeable people. And then there's Rudolph and Bernice's mother, Mrs. Stamm (Helen Lowell), who may or may not be delusional.

It's suggested that the revelers take a night swim in the Dragon Pool, a swimming hole on the estate. The pool has that name because of a Native American legend about a monster lurking in its depths. Montague dives in--and never resurfaces. The other men are unable to find him in the pool, and after enough time has passed that a practical joke can be ruled out, Leland calls the police.

District Attorney Markham (Robert McWade) and amateur detective Philo Vance (Warren William) are playing billiards when they're called upon by Sergeant Heath (Eugene Pallette) who's gotten stuck in the investigation. Vance is intrigued by the tropical fish that Stamm has brought back from his expeditions (this movie started a fad for tropical fish as pets) and by the dragon legend. But mainly by the mystery of where Montague is and what happened to him.

When the pool is drained the next morning, there's no body--but there are three-toed tracks in the silt, much like the Chinese dragon statue in the manor. Following a hint by Mrs. Stamm, Vance finds Montague's body in a nearby ancient pothole. He didn't drown, but there are claw marks on his chest. Still, even if one grants the fantastic notion of an aquatic monster, how did Mr. Montague's body get from the pool to the pothole without anyone seeing?

It will take all Philo Vance's cunning to unravel the crime, but can he do it before the dragon strikes again?

This is a decent enough B-movie with some nice creepy bits and excellent comic relief by Etienne Girardot as the irascible coroner Dr. Doremus, still doing his "I'm a doctor, not a (fill in the blank)" schtick. I think it might have worked even better if directed a bit more in the horror vein, playing up the feel of ancient grudges, ancestral madness and aquatic menace. Remake, anyone?

Vance's logic skips a few steps, but the savvy viewer should be able to figure out the mystery anyway.

Content note: Leland has some Native American ancestry, and there's relatively subtle prejudice against him, as well as defensiveness from him about it. Mrs. Stamm is condescended to and has her testimony dismissed because of her mental illness. Alcohol abuse.

Not the best Philo Vance movie, but watchable for the good bits.

The Bishop Murder Case (1929) dir. David Burton

A peaceful morning is broken when Professor Bertrand Dillard (Alec B. Francis) and his manservant Pyne (Sidney Bracey) look down into the house's courtyard and see the corpse of family friend Robin, nicknamed "Cock Robin", with an arrow in his chest. Professor Dillard immediately calls District Attorney Markham (Clarence Geldert) who calls in his friend, amateur detective Philo Vance (Basil Rathbone) to consult. Despite Sergeant Heath's (James Donlan) belief that this should be an open and shut case, Vance is convinced this murder is just the first in a series.

The obvious suspect, Raymond Sperling (Delmer Daves), whose name means "sparrow", turns out to have a solid alibi. So suspicion next falls on "The Bishop" who'd left a note referencing the famous nursery rhyme. But who in the area could be this "supersane" (Vance's word) killer? Is it Professor Dillard's niece Belle Dillard (Leila Hyams)? His adopted son (and Leila's love interest) Sigurd Arnesson (Roland Young)? Next door neighbor Adolph Drukker, (George F. Marion) back twisted by a childhood accident? His allegedly agoraphobic and fragile sister (Zelda Sears)? Cranky maid Beedle (Nellie Bly Baker)? The neighbor on the other side, creepy chess expert John Pardee (Charles Quartermaine)? Arnesson's favorite student John Sprigg (Carroll Nye)? Or someone totally unsuspected?

This was the only Philo Vance movie in which Basil Rathbone played the character. He does a good job, and since Vance specifically has a British accent he picked up during an English education, his accent is appropriate here. We only see about a minute of Philo's personal life as a wealthy playboy, and the rest of the movie is him being smarter than the police while being almost polite about it. Amusingly, he's mocked as "Sherlock Holmes" a couple of times, a decade before the actor took on that role.

I can tell that this is early in the talkies period, as most of the other actors haven't quite gotten used to the more subtle acting and voice styles that work better with sound. Drukker and Pardee's actors in particular took "act as suspicious as possible" too far. There's also a grating scene where Belle is waylaid by a gang of children in the park to read them nursery rhymes.

As with many multiple murder stories, several suspects are eliminated by being killed, making the solution easier. If you haven't read the book or any spoilers, see how early you can figure it out!

Of special interest is the scene where Ms. Drukker's doctor has hooked her up to an enormous 1920s heart monitor so that he can determine if she's getting too much excitement and the interrogation needs to be stopped. This monitor never comes up again--it's just an interesting touch.

The pace is pretty breakneck to fit in all the murders, and this movie never drags. Overall, it's a fun example of an early talkie and Mr. Rathbone is well worth watching in it. Recommended to mystery fans.

Dressed to Kill (1946) dir. Roy William Neill

Three seemingly-identical music boxes have come up for auction. The first is purchased by music box collector Julian "Stinky" Emery (Edmund Breon), the second by toy shop owner Evelyn Clifford (Patricia Cameron) (though she doesn't leave her name) and the third by Mr. Kilgour (Harry Allen), a transplanted Scotsman, as an inexpensive present for his daughter (Topsy Glyn). They all got what seemed like bargain prices. An hour later, another man arrives at the auction house eager to buy music boxes, and is frustrated to learn they're already gone.

Stinky, as it happens, is an old school chum of Dr. Watson (Nigel Bruce), partner of Sherlock Holmes (Basil Rathbone). Stinky mentions that he was coshed and one of his music boxes stolen, a cheap French one. Holmes is immediately intrigued. Stinky's collection includes at least one piece worth thousands of pounds, no self-respecting thief would have walked off with a lesser box. As it turns out, the French box looked very similar to the one Stinky recently purchased at auction. One with a rather peculiar melody. Interesting, but nothing Holmes can act on at the moment.

The boxes were created in Dartmoor Prison as part of a fundraising effort. The inmate who made them, Davison (Cyril Delevanti), intended that they fall into the hands of his outside confederates to reveal the location of some especially juicy loot. The gang is led by Mrs. Hilda Courtney (Patricia Morison), an attractive woman with impressive acting skills. Her accomplices are Colonel Cavanaugh (Frederick Worlock) a "gentleman" burglar, and Hamid (Harry Cording), a chauffeur/hitman who reads poetry and has unrequited feelings for Mrs. Courtney. (It's never mentioned what happened to Mr. Courtney, if he ever actually existed.)

When Stinky is murdered (Hamid got impatient and jealous while Mrs. Courtney was trying to get the music box through seduction) and the first music box goes missing, Holmes and Watson take up the case, attempting to bring the killers to justice and solve the three-box riddle.

This was the last of the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies. Unfortunately at some point the original print was lost and it had to be reconstructed from television cuts, thus the end credits are missing. It's an okay story, referencing "A Scandal in Bohemia" while very much not being the same. Mrs. Courtney is clever and Holmes enjoys their spar, but she's no Irene Adler.

My favorite part of this movie is the use of music. The music box tune is "The Swagman" though usually slightly "off" due to the plot. Holmes plays "Danny Boy" on the violin. And while of course Holmes can memorize any tune he hears if he wants to, he doesn't have an encyclopedic knowledge of popular music, so consults ace busker (and former murder suspect) Joe Cisto (Wallace Scott) at an actor's pub, which allows us to enjoy the music hall number "You Never Know Who You'll Meet."

Hamid's interest in love poetry was an interesting touch, and I'd have liked to have more emphasis on that as part of his character.

Watson is again depicted as rather dim, but his ramblings do inspire a couple of Holmes' epiphanies.

Content note: Murder (no blood), mild peril to a child, an oblique reference to the Holocaust. Elementary schoolers on up should be fine.

At about an hour, this is one of the lesser Holmes movies, but still quite watchable thanks to Rathbone and Bruce. A good choice for family movie night or a rainy afternoon.

T-Men (1947) dir. Anthony Mann

When an informant who was supposed to deliver a paper sample to the Treasury Department turns up dead (with no paper) in Los Angeles, the investigation of a major counterfeiting ring is stalled. It's determined that new agents who won't be identified so easily will be needed. They'll go undercover with one of the gang's customers in Detroit, Carlo Vantucci's (Anton Kosta) mob. They've been getting fake revenue stamps for their bootleg liquor that use the same presses, so there must be a connection. The agents are Dennis O'Brien (Dennis O'Keefe) and Tony Genaro (Alfred Ryder) who adopt the identities of Vannie Harrigan and Tony Galvani, survivors of a mostly deceased gang from the Prohibition days.

The first step is making themselves look like wanted men, who have some robbery heat, with a little help from the Detroit police. They talk themselves into work with the Vantucci mob and slowly gather clues that indicate that a lowlife named the Schemer is their connection to the counterfeiting ring. The protagonists get hold of one of his old outfits, and the loose lint in the pockets reveals he uses Chinese medicinal herbs, the Dragon Liver mix.

O'Brien heads to Los Angeles and starts asking around the Chinese apothecary shops. Finally, one of the shop owners recognizes the description but hasn't seen the Schemer in a while. He cut the man off because the Schemer also takes frequent steam baths, which is contraindicated if you are taking Dragon Liver. The next time is spending a lot of time in steam baths until O'Brien spots a man who looks like the Schemer (Wallace Ford), right down to a scar that would normally be hidden.

Now it's time to track the Schemer, and find a way to use him and some very nice printing plates to infiltrate the counterfeiters!

This 1947 semi-documentary (described as a "composite case") was the first teaming of director Anthony Mann and cinematographer John Alton. They do a good job together, and this movie is another example of how to use black and white photography effectively to manipulate light and shadow. The film noir aspects also work well in this context. The T-Men have to lie and manipulate people to infiltrate the gangs, and normal relationships are cut off. There's a tense moment where Genaro's wife (June Lockhart) has to pretend she doesn't know him in an effort not to blow his cover. And in the end that's futile. The Treasury Department wins in the end, but there's no big triumph for our protagonists, who pay high prices for success. We don't even get the reveal of the head of the counterfeiting ring until after the bust!

The script is okay, and some of the acting is quite good. The Schemer is a lowlife, but I missed him when he left the story.

Content note: Shirtless men during the steam bath sequences, one character is parboiled to death. Other violence, no blood. Outdated ethnic stereotypes, but played way down.

Overall: Good of its kind, may do well as an introduction to the work of the Secret Service in regards to counterfeiting. The glimpses of life in Detroit and Los Angeles before World War Two are fascinating to me. Recommended to police procedural fans.

The Amazing Mr. X (1948) dir. Bernard Vorhaus (aka The Spiritualist)

Christine Faber (Lynn Bari) is not dealing well with the death of her husband Paul (Donald Curtis). He died in an automobile accident two years ago, burnt so badly that the corpse was unidentifiable. It seems impossible that he's really gone, and sometimes Chris could swear she still hears his voice calling from the beach of her oceanside estate. She's trying to move on with the help of her neighbor, staid attorney Martin Abbott (Richard Carlson). One night, on her way to meet Mark, Chris runs into a mysterious man on the beach. This man seems to know her far too well for a stranger, including details of her relationship with Martin she's never told anyone. Much might be explained when the stranger, Alexis (Turhan Bey), gives her a business card calling him a spiritualist.

Christine is understandably a bit skeptical at first, but spooky things keep happening that he couldn't possibly have arranged (without having a plant in the house) and Alexis keeps producing nebulous but convincing evidence that he can in fact contact the Other Side and in particular Paul.

Martin hires a private investigator to look into Alexis, who turns out to have a criminal record for using the spiritualist racket to swindle people. Chris' sister Janet Burke (Cathy O'Donnell) volunteers to help expose Alexis, but he already knows who she is and dazzles her with his knowledge of her character (or what she would like to believe is her character.) She comes to believe in Alexis too, but with a rather more personal motive.

And yes, Alexis is indeed a phony, and we see several of his tricks. But just when it seems Martin and the detective have him cold, he finally seems to actually manifest Paul in a manner that can't be dismissed as trickery. Even Alexis himself seems surprised! Could it be that there is something truly sinister going on?

This movie isn't a classic in the way the other movies I've reviewed this month are, but it's an enjoyable, moody B-movie with enough twists to keep the audience guessing. Turhan Bey's slightly exotic looks work well with the character type, and he sells Alexis' charm. He seems to genuinely like Chris and especially Janet, even as he plans to defraud them, so his final actions make sense.

The suspense ratchets up in the last act of the story as the big twist comes in, and lives are endangered from beyond the grave.

And the last shot with Alexis' pet raven is perfect.

At no time is Alexis ever referred to as "Mr. X."

Content note: alcohol, smoking, a character is drugged. A bit of bloodless violence.

Overall: Modern audiences might find this movie a bit creaky, but it's fun and at about 70 minutes would make a good double feature with another spooky or mysterious short film.

The Shanghai Cobra (1945) dir. Phil Karlson

World War Two may be over, but Charlie Chan (Sidney Toler) is still working for the federal government. This proves useful when an old friend asks his assistance in handling a series of murders. It seems that each victim works for the Sixth National Bank, and died of cobra bites. But cobras aren't native to North America, and there's been no reports of missing or stolen snakes. Chan is called in because he worked an earlier case in Shanghai with a similar modus operandi, and is the one person available that might be able to identify the man suspected in that case, Jan van Horn. And because the bank is storing medical radium for the Feds, Chan has authority to investigate.

Of course, it's not quite that easy. Jan van Horn was badly burned in the Japanese attack on Shanghai before he escaped, and his appearance is likely to have changed. Charlie Chan does know he had distinctive hair. Hair which looks very similar to the bank president's hair...and the president admits to being in Shanghai during the time in question. Chan quickly realizes this is a red herring.

More interestingly, each victim had visited Joe's Coffee Shop shortly before dying. And the most recent victim, Mr. Black, was seen talking to a young woman and man both of whom disappeared afterwards. The young man turns out to be private detective Ned Stewart (James Cardwell) who'd been hired to tail bank secretary Paula Webb (Joan Barclay) only to fall head over heels for her. He doesn't know the reason he was hired, but after Mr. Black's murder, he was dismissed by his pseudonymous employer.

The niftiest thing about this movie is the "jukebox" with a human operator who can see the customer through a television apparatus and has two-way communication with the customer via radio. The customer speaks their order and the operator manually puts on the record. I've only seen this one other place, a Dick Tracy story, but I wonder if there was an actual jukebox with this gimmick that both fictional accounts are based on.

Charlie Chan is assisted by his bumbling Number Three Son Tommy (Benson Fong) and cowardly driver Birmingham Brown (Mantan Moreland) who do uncover several clues and are less prominent in this installment of the series, making their comedy relief more bearable.

There are several nice twists, and an exciting conclusion with Charlie Chan and his assistants trapped underground by an explosion. This is a superior entry for this late in the series, and recommended to mystery fans who can forgive the whole yellowface thing.