Yo soy el asesino

On his way to receive a final toast - in the electric chair! - condemned Ralf Harold (as Nicholas Ross) pauses to let the assembled witnesses know he's going to give away the identity of a fellow criminal. But, just as he is about to reveal the crook's name, Mr. Harold is stricken by a deadly poison dart. District attorney Ricardo Cortez (as Roger Phillips) and attractive "Chronicle" reporter Joan Woodbury (as Geri Reynolds) sift through the suspects, banter romantically, and try to solve the murder. You've seen this kind of picture before, but the tired storyline in "I Killed That Man" is enlivened by its cast and crew.

Director Phil Rosen and his star, Mr. Cortez, were silent screen veterans (they'd worked together) who found less success after the advent of talking motion pictures; but, their skills are clearly evident, as they make the most of this quickly produced, low-budget film. Today, Mr. Rosen is not well-remembered; but, he worked on some of the most important Hollywood films of the teens and twenties (many are lost). Cortez reached a popularity peak in 1926, after working on films with Greta Garbo and D.W. Griffith. The supporting cast does very well, and Ms. Woodbury is a thoroughly charming leading woman.

****** I Killed That Man (11/28/41) Phil Rosen ~ Ricardo Cortez, Joan Woodbury, George Pembroke

This is a mystery with elements of comedy. It also has (minor) noir elements and a romantic touch.

Ricardo Cortez is excellent in the lead. We begin as a man is about to be put to death in prison. The press and the law are there, as well as a few others who like to observe executions.

Things do not go as planned. And Cortez tries to solve the mystery right on the spot. That doesn't work. His girlfriend, reporter Joan Woodbury, gets involved. Iris Adrian is, as always, effective as a moll.

This sort of thing continued to be standard fare at Warner Brothers till the mid-forties. Interestingly, Monogram does it even better here. The list of players boasts only Cortez as a box-office name. But it's cast in a clever and entertaining manner and neatly directed by Phil Rosen.

This starts off quite intriguingly as we witness the dying moments of a felon heading to the chair. Only thing is, he never actually makes it - amidst his final confession in which he is about to implicate his paymaster, he is felled by a toxic dart and the police have rather an embarrassing mess to clear up. For some reason, the elderly "Lanning" (Harry Holman) is front and centre for the blame, but soon the assistant district attorney "Phillips" (Ricardo Cortez) and girlfriend reporter "Geri" (Joan Woodbury) conclude that's a red herring and are soon on the trail of the real criminal. It's hardly the best acted nor written drama you'll ever see, but Phil Rosen does manage to keep the tight cast all rowing in the same direction and the story mixes some light-heartedness - especially from switchboard operator/eavesdropper "Tommy" (George P. Breakston) with just enough mystery to amiably pass an hour or so.

This is the typical mystery thriller and comedy flick that spread during the thirties and forties. Only for those who crave for this kind of stuff. I don't belong to those audiences. I don't like comedies, especially the thirties and forties ones. And from a director such as Phil Rosen, a prolific grade Z films maker, you can understand that nothing really excits me. But I nevertheless tried this one, this short picture, and I must admit that it is agreeable, inventive, fresh to watch. To summarize, it is far better than many more movies of this kind for this period. So, if you are lucky enough to get it, try it.

Newspaper reporter Joan Woodbury sails up to her editor's desk. The editor is on the phone. "Get me the state prison," he says. Woodbury doesn't miss a beat: "Making a reservation so soon?" This is the kind of snappy dialog that makes this an enjoyable lightweight film.

Plenty of movies from this era featured the crime-solving reporter. Many others starred the assistant district attorney tracking down a murderer. I Killed That Man has both—Woodbury as the reporter, and Ricardo Cortez as her boyfriend who also happens to be the assistant D.A. working on the case.

Other familiar elements also abound: rival reporters envious of Woodbury's connections, the poison dart as murder weapon. George Breakston is entertaining as the D.A. office's receptionist and switchboard operator—besides reading crime non-fiction and proposing inspired solutions to this particular mystery, he offers knowing deductions based on Woodbury's appearance as she sits in his waiting area. (How did he know she got dressed in a hurry that morning? "You got your left stocking on inside out.")

There's only one thing I really want to know after watching this picture: What card catalog numbering system did they use at their local library?