The Crime
Club was a publishing arm of Doubleday that specialized in crime novels.
The Saint was published with them. Universal struck a deal to produce four
films a year from their books. All B films. From 1937 to 1939 Universal made
eleven of them. This was the second. So even with a black voodoo like doll
signifying death, this was not a horror film. Just multiple murders in one
isolated house on a very rainy night. Add in some welcome comedy from Edgar
Kennedy as the none too bright cop. Kennedy always cracks me up with his
slow burn. It must have back then as well because it kept him working for
decades. It seems not so much for other reviewers who found him exasperating.
The mystery is ok though hard to understand
how the killer managed it. He must have had invisibility powers. At 60-minutes
there was no time to explain that. The head of a household of his daughter,
sister, nephew and two servants is played by C. Henry Gordon, always a villain
in films with his untrustworthy moustache and eyes that looked like he never
slept. You know he will either be the killer or a victim. He finds a black
doll on his desk and panics. The Mexican butler says "that means death".
Later we find out it may have been a doll that his now grown daughter (Nan
Grey) owned as a child. Nice doll to give to your little girl.
And sure enough, Gordon is murdered. Others
follow. Grey's boyfriend (Donald Woods) is a private eye and lends the Sheriff
(Kennedy) a hand. He needs it as murders happen all around him. The nephew
is William Lundigan who was to become a major player in B films of which
he said, "My mistake was in being so damned cooperative. Not only did I accept
the bad pictures, but I accepted lousy parts in those bad pictures.". For
what it sets out to be, this is a harmless enough murder mystery that speeds
along.
