The Circus Queen Murder

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.

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.

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.

Police commissioner Thatcher Colt (Adolphe Menjou) has had it up to here with New York crime. Wanting to get away and recharge the batteries, he sets off with his secretary for a vacation in the middle-of-nowhere upstate New York. There, Colt runs into a traveling circus and murder. Not much of a vacation.

It's unfortunate that The Circus Queen Murder suffers from such a poor storyline, becuase there's a lot here to like. The film looks absolutely fantastic and the acting is as strong as you'll find in a "B" from this era, but there's not much to work with when it comes to the story. First, the film's title gives away far too much, destroying any hope of suspense. Second, the killer's identity is a given throughout the film, destroying any hope of mystery. Third, the film's pacing is a mess. I'm convinced that director Roy William Neill did the best he could, but without much to work with, the film tends to bog down from time-to-time (who am I kidding - parts of the film are downright boring). Fourth, our hero, Thatcher Colt, doesn't really do much. He knows who the killer is and he knows who the intended victim is, but does nothing about it. He pretty much sits back and lets the murder happen. Which leads to - fifth, the ending is complete bananas.

In the end, the best I can rate The Circus Queen Murder is a very average (and maybe even generous) 5/10.

Finally, I'm not an expert on pre-code films, but I generally get a kick out of them. It's amazing to me what filmmakers could do and get away with in 1933 that they couldn't just a couple years later. Marital infidelity, blood, risque wardrobes, and even something as innocent as Colt and his secretary traveling together would have most likely been axed by the Code. Interesting stuff.

5/10

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.