Dressed to Kill

Despite some notable features, this programmer fails to rise above standard detective shows of the time. Nonetheless, the opening scene is a hoot, as a double-breasted Shayne (Nolan) gets harassed by an aggressive clothing salesman. In fact, Nolan's the best thing about the film. His fast-talking brash personality holds a center of attention. I'm just sorry we don't see more of Mary Beth Hughes whose brassy personality is a perfect foil for her meandering fiancée, Shayne. Then there're two exotics from the period—creepy Milton Parsons (Max) in a beard no less, plus snooty Henry Daniell (Julian) getting sympathetic treatment for a change.

That initial murder scene remains a grabber. The dog's head plopped onto one of the corpses is like nothing I've seen and shows real imagination. The trouble, for me at least, is that the whodunit part never really gels, despite clever touches with the murder weapon. At the same time, the pacing is uneven, better suited at times to character study than to plot. There's also the standard dumb cop humor, plus Mantan Moreland doing his familiar bug-eyed comedic bit.

All in all, it's an unexceptional entry, mainly for fans of Nolan, myself included.

Dressed to Kill is one of the most enjoyable 'B' movies I've ever seen. Lloyd Nolan is terrific as Michael Shayne, detective, and his supporting cast is superb to say the least. William Demarest is the best hapless police inspector this side of James Gleason, a youthful Henry Daniell plays a stuck up prig to perfection, Milton Parsons is a bad baddie, and we even get small turns from Mantan Moreland and Billy Benedict. The story is reasonably well written, fast paced, and a lot of fun.

But it really is!

This is a fast-paced comedy/mystery starring Lloyd Nolan as Private Eye Michael Shayne, attempting to solve a double-murder. Nolan seems to figure everything out before the bewildered police inspector, played by William Demarest. The banter between Nolan and Demarest is great. Demarest rolls with the punches, getting conked on the noggin twice, and even getting a chair wrapped around his head. Mary Beth Hughes appears in a subplot as Shayne's fiancée, but their wedding plans keep getting interrupted by Shayne's pursuit of the killer (whose identity did surprise me). Milton Parsons has a juicy part, and Henry Daniell shows a flare for slapstick. Mantan Moreland is hysterical, and I do hope that he laughed all the way to the bank given the roles he was given during his career. Don't think too hard about this one, and you'll have a good time.

I have to admit, though, that just once, it would be interesting if the dumb police inspector actually turned out to be the killer. Now that would be a real surprise. And no, I don't think I'm spoiling anything by saying that.

I sat bolt upright at the end of this movie because it looked as if there was a serious error in the credits. No, I thought, I must be wrong. But I'm not. The movie's streaming on Netflix, so you can see for yourself: 20th Century Fox reversed the names of the two African-American actors who provide some of the brightest points in this bright little movie.

They often entertained as a team, and in this movie Mantan Moreland and Ben Carter play two theater janitors who first appear doing a sweet backstage dance sequence with their brooms while Mary Beth Hughes (too little of her in this movie) sings on-stage but off-screen. I loved it that the filmmakers ignored the girl singer for the greater talents of these two hoofers. Their characters are called Rusty and Sam, with the bigger part going to Rusty, who is played by Moreland, the more famous of the two. But in the final credits, the names are reversed with the roles, crediting Ben Carter as Rusty. Inexcusable. I doubt it ever happened to the Marx Brothers, or even the Ritz Brothers.

Yet IMDb has it right in its Cast and Crew listing. I find that impressive.

The movie's impressive, too-- a B movie with a ridiculously complicated plot with a lot of theatrics, quick-witted dialog, and sure-footed performances by Lloyd Nolan, William Demarest, Henry Daniell, Moreland and Carter, and Mary Beth Hughes-- of whom, as I said, there was far too little screen time. Far too little of her in movies in general, in fact.

Dressed to Kill (1941)

There are several movies by this name, and this is one of the lesser of them, a comic detective yarn with an improbable murder and some fun settings. Key to its success--because it isn't half bad--is the leading man, Lloyd Nolan, who has an ease and likability that makes his scenes fun to watch. And he's in every minute of the movie.

This is one of a series of Michael Shayne movies (that's the detective's name), and the first seven of the thirteen movie versions star Nolan. It says something that I'd be willing to see another, for sure. But I think this is a television level drama (before t.v., but that kind of budget and level of intensity). These aren't like the great detective movies of the 30s and 40s, and not a bit like the noirs of the 40s and 50s, just to be clear.

One of the surprising high points is the script--very witty, and unrelentingly clever. Nice

Expect very good production values, a decent supporting cast, and a kind of over-convoluted Agatha Christie kind of plot with lots of characters that are really hard to get to know in just over an hour. In the big picture these are a little like the Sherlock Holmes or the Mr. Wong movies with Boris Karloff. Fun, but no great shakes.