The Circus Queen Murder

1933's "The Circus Queen Murder" was Columbia's second adaptation of an Anthony Abbot Thatcher Colt novel, in this case 1932's "About the Murder of the Circus Queen," a followup to the previous year's "The Night Club Lady." Back as the lip reading Colt is Adolphe Menjou, happily teamed again with gorgeous Ruthelma Stevens as faithful secretary Miss Kelly, as savvy and sassy as ever. This time around, there's precious little mystery, with Colt taken out of his native New York City milieu, watching over suspicious activities in a traveling circus far from home. It does evoke Tod Browning's "Freaks," with such pre-code details as cannibalism adding to the doom laden atmosphere, not really a mystery as defined in the title, the circus queen only meeting her fate in the final reel. Fortunately, we have Dwight Frye's Flandrin commanding attention, and in a larger role than usual he's definitely in rare form, better in dangerous mode than his bland hero from 1935's "The Crime of Doctor Crespi." Both Thatcher Colt features have remained stubbornly elusive over the years, while one of Columbia's four picture Steve Trent series has suffered the indignity of actually disappearing without any trace. There would be one revival for Colt, in 1942's "The Panther's Claw," casting dependable Sidney Blackmer as Colt, his fate on screen ending just like his inspiration Philo Vance, at Poverty Row's PRC.

DA Thatcher Colt (Adolphe Menjou), who hasn't had a day off in years, is finally going on vacation. He has chosen a town in upstate New York called Gilead. He brings along his secretary, Miss Kelly (Ruthelma Stevens).

It's not particularly calm, as the circus is in town, replete with cannibals and intrigue. Wouldn't you know that the circus press agent (Harry Holman) recognizes his old buddy Colt and gives him and Ms. Kelly free passes.

That evening, the owner of the circus, Rainey (George Rosener) tells Colt that someone is out to ruin his show. One incident involved the half-owner (La Tour) caught on a runaway horse. Miss Kelly, a lip reader, saw what Flandrin (Dwight Frye), La Tour's husband, said just before he popped a balloon to scare the horse: "The double-crossing cheat. I'll kill the both of you."

La Tour is having an affair with The Great Sebastian (Donald Cook) and wants a divorce. Flandrin has disappeared, but Colt knows he's still around and planning something deadly.

Nice high-wire acts and good performances, particularly by Dwight Frye as the clearly insane Flandrin. Menjou is very charming and smooth.

This is a dated film, with black cannibals and a black tap-dancing toy atop Menjou's desk.

ADOLPHE MENJOU and RUTHELMA STEVENS do a nice job as D.A. and secretary, a sort of Perry Mason and Della Street type of relationship, both of whom are practicing the art of lip reading, which we know is bound to become a plot device in helping to put the murderer away.

Menjou is desperately in need of a vacation, so like so many other criminal sleuths before him, he goes to a small town and is soon involved with a circus troupe and a slew of suspects who are trying to kill either the circus queen or her paramour. For an exotic touch, there are traveling cannibals among the circus entertainers.

There are a lot of high wire acrobatics and tension as the jealous husband (DWIGHT FRYE) climbs aboard the tent's outside perimeter to peer down at the high wire acts with a crazy gleam in his eyes. GRETA NISSEN is the circus queen (with a thick accent) that Menjou has to keep a sharp eye on.

It's a diverting little circus drama, well photographed by Joseph August and directed at a fast clip by Roy William Neill.

New York City District Attorney Adolphe Menjou needs a vacation. So he heads upstate to the little town of Gilead, with secretary Ruthelma Stevens. There is, alas, no balm in Gilead. There's a circus in town, and its publicity man, Harry Holman recognizes Menjou. He asks for help. There are threats being made to kill members of the troupe, and tomorrow's Friday the 13th.

The under-rated Roy William Neill directs this efforts, and it soon turns into a howcatchem with a lot of shots of a circus in operation. Menjou saunters through the picture, almost always a step behind as he learns of issues like aerialist Greta Nissen betraying her husband, and a dead dog. Dwight Frye, as usual, makes the most of a small but key role.

A performer of many talents, Frye entered show business playing the piano. He switched to acting and in the 1920s played comedies on the stage. When talkies came in, he soon established himself as a neurotic villain, in roles like Wilmer in the first screen version of THE MALTESE FALCON and most famously as Renfield in DRACULA. He died in 1943 at the age of 44.

This is the second film (in a mini-series of two) featuring Menjou as Thatcher Colt, Police Commissioner, the first being THE NIGHT CLUB LADY. They're both extremely well made and quite entertaining, a very diverting double. And well written: based on novels by Fulton Oursler, they have screenplays by Capra regulars Robert Riskin (the first) and Jo Swerling (this one).

The similarities of the two films are many. In each, the character (and actor Menjou) shows off his language skills. In NIGHT CLUB LADY, each suspect is a different nationality, and Menjou plays a long scene on the phone in lightning French. Here, he overhears a conversation in German with Nisson (whose first language that was). In both, the time and place of the impending murder of the title lady is known, and Colt arrives in plenty of time with a large retinue of police, but is still unable to prevent the crime (a funny sort of hero). In both, the method of the murder is exotic, and in both Colt puts himself at risk, wearing a secret protective vest, to catch the murderer. In both, he has a personal side-kick named Kelly who handles all the important details, nicely played by Ruthelma Stevens (probably her largest film roles). His relationship with her is ambiguous. In the first film, he is constantly surprised in apparently compromising situations with her (actually demonstrating a wrestling hold or the murderer's method) which he blithely declines to explain. In the second, she is traveling with him on his vacation, and at the end, when she's in danger, he says that she's the only person he really cares about in the world. Their somewhat equivocal relationship is only one of the many little pleasures in the two films.

But there are also many significant differences. NIGHT CLUB LADY is a whodunit with many equally guilty suspects; and whenever one begins to look more guilty, "you know who" gets killed. In this one, one more-or-less knows who the murderer is, and the tension is in whether he will be caught in time (in a ridiculously extended big-top sequence that cuts--and cuts--back and forth from the murderer, intended victim, police, spectators, etc.). In the first, the victim is rather unpleasant, and is killed off early, but here the victim is sympathetic and is killed near the end, a real plot flaw.

The style of direction is even more dramatically different. The first is generally rather lighthearted, with an alcoholic Skeets Gallagher constantly interjecting humorous comments. It's brightly lit and takes place in posh surroundings. CIRCUS QUEEN is atmospheric, with heavy drama driving the plot. The circus ambiance is moody and dark, and the eerie growls and cries of the wild animals are used like soundtrack music for the night scenes with impressively unsettling results. For me, this effective development of atmosphere gives this film a slight edge over the first in the series. Needless to say, the two films had different directors. This one was directed by Roy William Neill, who also turned in the creepy, nearly unknown BLACK MOON the following year.

Like most other Columbia films of the pre-Code era, this double has no reputation simply because they are virtually totally unavailable. What a shame!