The Black Raven (1943)

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It is a dark and stormy night . . .
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US / 61 minutes / bw / Sigmund Neufeld Productions, PRC Dir: Sam Newfield Pr: Sigmund Neufeld Scr: Fred Myton Cine: Robert Cline Cast: George Zucco, Noel Madison, Byron Foulger, Robert Middlemass, Charlie Middleton, Robt. Randall, Wanda McKay, Glenn Strange, I. Stanford Jolley.

Years ago Amos Bradford (Zucco) was a criminal mastermind known as The Black Raven. Now he runs a remote inn, also called The Black Raven, somewhere near the border with Canada. Tonight a stranger arrives, Whitey Cole (Jolley)—although he’s no stranger to Amos, but the partner he left to carry the can when he evaded the cops one final time before assuming the mantle of respectability. Whitey’s escaped from the pen with ten years of his sentence still to go. Now he wants to settle up with Amos one last time . . .

Whitey Cole (I. Stanford Jolley) arrives on the scene.

But then Amos’s dimwit handyman, Andy (Strange), bursts in out of the howling gale, and between the two of them Amos and Andy (yes, really) subdue Whitey:

Andy: “What was the matter? Didn’t he like the service?”
Amos: “He’s suffering from rabid delusions aggravated by a moronic mentality.”
Andy: “Is that bad?”

Other guests arrive seeking shelter from the storm, all of them in one way or another relying on the inn’s reputation as the last stopping point on the way to refuge in Canada. First to arrive is gangster Mike Bardoni (Madison)—his name spelled “Baroni” in a newspaper headline we see, but that’s B-movies for you. He knows of Amos’s past as The Black Raven and wants his aid in

Ellery Queen and the Murder Ring (1941)

US / 69 minutes / bw / Darmour, Columbia Dir: James Hogan Pr: Larry Darmour Scr: Eric Taylor, Gertrude Purcell Story: Ellery Queen Cine: James S. Brown Jr. Cast: Ralph Bellamy, Margaret Lindsay, Charley Grapewin, Mona Barrie, Paul Hurst, James Burke, Leon Ames, George Zucco, Blanche Yurka, Charlotte Wynters, Tom Dugan, Olin Howlin, Dennis Moore, Jean Fenwick, Pierre Watkin.

Many of the detectives of classic mystery fiction are in essence mildly comic figures—Lord Peter Wimsey, Hercule Poirot, Albert Campion, Ellery Queen—yet their creators manage to imbue them with some necessary gravitas to match the seriousness of the crimes they solve. Modern screen adaptations of the relevant tales generally try to perform the same trick—just think of the long TV series of Poirot adventures starring David Suchet. Here, though, the moviemakers took the rather fey, cerebral Ellery Queen, turned him into a lunk, and put him at the heart of a clumsy comedy. This was the fourth and last of the Columbia series in which a hopelessly miscast Bellamy played the detective; William Gargan took over the role for three further movies and then, mercifully, the series ended.

The testy matriarch Augusta Stack (Blanche Yurka).

Wealthy widow Augusta Stack (Yurka) calls in the cops because she’s concerned there might be a conspiracy of malpractice going on at the hospital she owns, the Stack Memorial Hospital. To keep the matter quiet, Inspector Richard Queen (Grapewin) sends his novelist/detective son Ellery (Bellamy) to investigate undercover. Claiming to have lost his voice, Ellery is examined by the hospital’s chief physician, Edward F. Janney (Zucco), who diagnoses the problem as psychological and admits Ellery to the hospital. Ellery calls his secretary, Nikki Porter (Lindsay), to join him as his “private nurse”.

Nikki Porter (Margaret Lindsay) in her guise as nurse.

Meanwhile,

Hotel Berlin (1945)

vt Vicki Baum’s Hotel Berlin
US / 98 minutes / bw / Warner Dir: Peter Godfrey Pr: Louis F. Edelman Scr: Jo Pagano, Alvah Bessie Story: Hier Stand ein Hotel (1943; vt Hotel Berlin; vt Hotel Berlin ’43; vt Berlin Hotel; vt Here Stood a Hotel) by Vicki Baum Cine: Carl Guthrie Cast: Faye Emerson, Helmut Dantine, Raymond Massey, Andrea King, Peter Lorre, Alan Hale, George Coulouris, Henry Daniell, Peter Whitney, Helene Thimig, Steven Geray, Kurt Kreuger, Frank Reicher, Richard Tyler, Paul Panzer, Wolfgang Zilzer.

In some ways a companion piece to CASABLANCA (1942), but set in a swanky hotel in Berlin during the final months of the war rather than the somewhat more bohemian environs of Rick’s Café Américain, this surprisingly neglected movie has strengths of its own, not least an electrifying performance from Peter Lorre in a subsidiary role.

The Gestapo has deduced that Dr. Martin Richter (Dantine), an escapee from Dachau, has taken refuge in the Hotel Berlin, and its officers are combing the place in search of him. Also at the hotel are various high-ranking Nazis, including General Arnim von Dahnwitz (Massey) who, although renowned as the butcher of Kharkov, has recently participated in an unsuccessful coup against Hitler; all the other conspirators have suicided or been executed, and even von Dahnwitz’s old and dear friend Baron von Stetten (Daniell) reckons the man should kill himself before the Gestapo hauls him in. Von Dahnwitz, however, believes there’s a chance for him and his mistress, celebrated actress Lisa (or Liesl, as she’s sometimes called in dialogue) Dorn (King), to escape to Sweden.

Raymond Massey as the hapless Gen Arnim von Dahnwitz.

The fugitive Martin Richter has a network of allies among the hotel wait-staff. One of these, Fritz Renn (Reicher), is soon arrested, but not before he has equipped Martin with a waiter’s coat. Fritz believes that, if Martin can contrive to be serving in Lisa’s suite during the search, the chances are that the searchers, dazzled by her fame, will overlook him. The plan works, although Lisa becomes convinced Martin is a Gestapo spy. Another significant ally is Bellboy #6 (Tyler), a child with courage and fortitude beyond his years, the son of underground leader Walter Baumler (Zilzer).

The fugitive Martin Richter (Helmut Dantine) and the world-weary turncoat Professor Koenig (Peter Lorre).

The resident of the room next to Lisa’s suite is one-time Nobel prizewinner Professor Johannes Koenig (Lorre), who

Fog Island (1945)

US / 71 minutes / bw / PRC Dir: Terry Morse Scr: Pierre Gendron Story: Angel Island (1937 play) by Bernadine Angus Cine: Ira Morgan Cast: Lionel Atwill, Jerome Cowan, George Zucco, Veda Ann Borg, Sharon Douglas, Ian Keith, Jacqueline DeWit, John Whitney, George Lloyd.

A creaky but enjoyable gothic noir, with secret passageways and skulls galore.

The miniature screaming skull given to Sylvia as her clue . . .

Embittered after five years in the pen for an embezzlement of which he was innocent, during which time his beloved wife Karma was murdered, Leo Grainger (Zucco)—rendered as “Grainer” in the credits—lives in his spooky, pirate-built mansion on remote Fog Island with his stepdaughter Gail (Douglas), who likewise seeks reclusion because of the shame of Leo’s supposed crime.

Leo invites to the island the people he believes were involved in the theft and set him up for the fall: phony seeress Emiline Bronson (DeWit) of the Emiline Bronson Psychic Research Laboratory, erstwhile colleagues Alec Ritchfield (Atwill) and John Kavanaugh (Cowan), Leo’s personal secretary Sylvia Jordan (Borg), and another business associate, Jackson Kingsley, who proves in the event to have recently died; his son Jeff (Whitney) comes in his stead, eager for the excuse to reunite with Gail, his old college sweetheart. Also on the island, having come clandestinely, is the company’s accountant, sent up the river at the same time as Leo: “Doc” Lake (Keith).

. . . . the full-size one she finds in a casket . . .

The night of their arrival, Leo tells his guests he has called them here for retribution, although he obfuscates about what the word might mean in this context; if any of them are innocent, for example, their retribution might be against him for having lost them money. Since he has introduced Kavanaugh to his home with “Strangely enough, it was built by pirates . . . but you shouldn’t find any difficulty in finding your way around, John”, we can guess this latter definition of the word is not the one foremost in Leo’s mind.

To each person he gives a clue/favor: to Gail a key (“Perhaps the key to your happiness, my dear”), to Emiline a pen with a note inside reading “Top Left of Mantle” (much later we discover a lever there opens a drawer containing another key), to Kavanaugh a book of elementary multiplication tables, to Sylvia a monkey skull, to Ritchfield a jemmy, and to Jeff a penknife.

As Gail plays the organ that evening, she and Jeff discover the Oboe stop controls a secret door; Ritchfield observes them; in due course everyone knows about the doorway and that it leads to a tangle of cellars. There’s a séance that stops in a hurry when the table levitates—to the mystification of supposedly pstchic Emiline. And then there’s the first murder, when Doc discovers the butler, Allerton (Lloyd), rifling through his master’s desk, exposes him as escaped lifer Al Jenks, and fights with him—a fight that ends with Allerton/Jenks plunging into violent seas. Later Ritchfield kills Leo, who has discovered he murdered Karma, then kills Emiline for the key to what they both believe is the treasure chamber, down in the cellars. The four remaining chiselers use their clues to find the supposed treasure, only to discover it’s just a note from Leo proclaiming his innocence; besides, the casket containing the note is rigged so that, on being moved, it seals the chamber and fills it with seawater . . .

. . . and the skeleton Ritchfield discovers in the cellar on hiding Leo’s corpse.

Meanwhile, Jeff and Gail discover the tabletop, when made to levitate, reveals a secret compartment with Gail’s mother’s jewels and a letter explaining where Leo’s company’s money really went: quite simply, he was an incompetent businessmen.

Atwill, Cowan, Zucco and Borg all deliver the sort of professional performances you might expect, and DeWit is excellent. This was one of very few movie appearances for Douglas, who was primarily a radio actress; she pulls the role off with considerable charm and aplomb, so it’s somewhat surprising the Hollywood studios didn’t offer her more of a career.

Bonus skull for dedicated craniophiles.

On Amazon.com: Fog Island