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"Quiet Please, Murder" is an odd movie that grows on you. Notice I didn't say Noir, or even Mystery - it's more of a drama/ romance in the 'B' mold. There must have been a headline movie billed over it because it couldn't stand on its own.

Having said that, it's a fast-paced, compelling picture with an interesting cast that takes place mainly a city library. George Sanders, Hollywood's most polished bad guy, is a forger of priceless manuscripts and Gail Patrick is his legman (woman). They make the mistake of selling one to Sidney Blackmer, a frontman for the Nazis, who were trying to corner the market on rare art and literature. Richard Denning is a private eye who is hot on Sanders' trail.

There is an undercurrent between Sanders and Patrick of some Freudian psychological aberration regarding sado-masochism which may or may not be an interesting plot twist. I thought Denning lacked gravitas and the part needed someone else. Byron Foulger, who must have made a thousand movies, is on hand as a librarian - you would recognize him immediately.

And just when you think the picture is becoming a little far-fetched, it is over, as it is only 70 minutes long. All it would have needed was one more plot contrivance or loose end and I would have lowered my rating. This film played on TCM the other morning.

This was a perfect vehicle for self-professed cad George Sanders and he found a gal more than his match in cold blooded Gail Patrick here. They share some surprisingly frank and witty badinage about criminal psychology along with their mutual oily distaste for humanity which transcends the occasionally breezier aspects of this quasi noir and gives it a nicely crusted edge. The movie veers back and forth between crime drama and something a bit lighter but overall, it hits a lot of good notes and has dated surprisingly better than many far more famous movies from the same era. The library antics are amusing enough, but the real selling point of this movie is Sanders, whose effortless cool is right up there near his best and far more recognized roles.

A competent B-noir, with the interesting twist of being set in a library. George Sanders' erudite villain is an oily delight; otherwise it's a somewhat overwrought collection of hard-boiled detective film cliches.

Another reviewer suggested a better, more realistic ending (but one that would've been acceptable in 1942, when good had to triumph over evil at the movies). So I can see how some might prefer a more postmodern version.

But I think the clichés of this film are good campy fun. It's been a very long time since I found a movie this good that I've never seen before. So I see it as a superb relic to be treasured.

It's a charming film noir crime caper, stagy and clumsy at times, but with a very smooth George Sanders as the rather mild villain, and surprisingly smart banter throughout. It has a good formulaic story that doggedly ties up all loose ends into a neat package. It moves very quickly for its age, and is pretty easy to follow, despite the plot being somewhat complex.

I'm very excited to have stumbled across it.

Master forger of rare books (Sanders) gets mixed up with Nazis (Blackmer), a detective (Denning) and a double-crossing dame (Patrick).

The convoluted script may take a Rosetta Stone to solve, still it's a slickly done TCF programmer. Those two smoothies Sanders and Patrick are well cast as a couple of A-team masochists, engaged in a game of one-upmanship and about as trustworthy as rattlesnakes. In fact, Patrick's character qualifies for the Devious Dame Hall of Fame, with her warm personality and stone cold heart. Still, I'm a bit surprised that some of that pain-loving dialog Sanders relishes made it past the censors. Usually old Hollywood just hinted at such things instead of belaboring them.

Denning and Roberts are clearly America's team, though Denning may wobble at times. One thing for sure—set design and art direction come cheap since most of the action takes place in a single setting, a library. Still, director Larkin keeps things moving. And get a load of baldy Kurt Katch's mute Nazi. He's about as inviting as the polar ice cap and just as chilling. But, I'm still wondering which thug belongs to which gang, which does get confusing.

Oh well, things do sort out, I think. Then too, it's 1942 and the war is still in doubt. Byron Foulger's officious little air warden may be on the silly side, but the blackouts weren't. These old movies do show us things the history books can't. Anyhow, the movie may be nothing to write home about. But it's still impressive how Hollywood could turn out such slick little programmers in the middle of a big war.