El reloj sin manos

In one of the first Pine-Thomas B films from Paramount Chester Morris and Jean Parker play a bargain basement version of Nick and Nora Charles in No Hands On The Clock. I'm thinking this might have been something that Bill Pine and Bill Thomas had in mind for a series, but Morris's next film was his first Boston Blackie.

Morris is a detective specializing in missing persons cases and is hired to find the missing son of a ranch owner who enjoys the casinos in Reno and all they have to offer. Several murders later we find who's been responsible for a small crime wave including a fake kidnapping of the missing son in question.

Dick Purcell has a nice role along with Astrid Allwyn as a known gangster whom the cops and the FBI think is responsible for all of this. Allwyn plays a very wise moll to Purcell, their scenes with Morris and Parker have some real bite.

This definitely could have been a series had Morris not already signed for Boston Blackie.

This is a terrific unknown B-picture from the Pine-Thomas outfit at Paramount. Chester Morris plays a fast-talking (and thinking) private dick who drinks milk instead of whiskey. Jean Parker is his sassy, lacto-intolerant new bride. There are plenty of other good character turns, especially by Astrid Allwyn as a hot-to-trot barfly. Although the plot (from Geoffrey Homes of "Out of the Past" fame) is intriguing, it's a bit too complex for such a short programmer. However, the repartee and character "bits of business" are top-notch, and journeyman director McDonald maintains a breakneck pace while slipping in some clever camera angles. The cryptic title refers to a clock that represents eternity, located outside a funeral home facing the hero's hotel. Worth seeking out.

This much better than average comedy mystery made in 1941 by the Pine-Thomas B picture unit at Paramount is excellently staged by journeyman director Frank McDonald, but I'm guessing that much credit must go to film ediitor Bill Zeigler who started with comedies at the Roach studios, then did a number of Hitchcock pictures, and ended up editing many of Warner Bros. Greatest A budget musicals like MY FAIR LADY. Zeigler, master editor, keeps all his cuts moving so effortlessly, switching from laughs to drama and back, that the viewer soon doesn't give a damn about who did what to who and why. The crime plot is enormously convoluted, impossible to follow, but that doesn't inhibit us from enjoying the excellent Nick and Norah chemistry and laughs between Chester Morris and his jealous bride Jean Parker. They are surrounded, as to be expected, by first rate cast of familiar faces, including Jack Norton, who for once is not the drunk at the bar but the bartender behind it. All highly entertaining. This is one of those 1940s quickies that feels as if everyone working on it had a good time, having no idea how good the film would turn out,

Private detective Chester Morris phones his boss: he has found the person their detective agency was hired to find, but he is not bringing her back—in fact, he's just married her and they're on their way to Reno for a honeymoon. Alas, the boss follows and mystery awaits Morris and new wife Jean Parker; the couple check into a hotel across the street from a mortuary fronted by a large clock with swinging pendulum but no actual hands, where they proceed to spend a merry 75 minutes chasing crooks and each other around the neighborhood.

A strong cast of B movie stalwarts includes Dick Purcell as a bank robber named Red, and Astrid Allwyn as a dangerous female at the bar. George Watts is the comical yet crafty boss detective who drags our man Chester into the case by promising to buy Parker a fur coat when the case is finished. (Other familiar faces who appear in bits include Milburn Stone as an FBI man and Keye Luke as a cash-hungry fired house servant.)

The plot is, frankly, way too involved and packed with too many characters for it all to make a lot of sense. Among other story threads, it seems that both the FBI and the gang of robbers think that Chester is a fellow bank robber whom he apparently resembles greatly (but whom we never meet).

What are easy to follow, however, are the reasons we watch in the first place—little touches like Morris's fondness for milk contrasted with Parker's inability to drink it at all; the accordion that Morris repeatedly picks up but never gets around to playing for more than a measure or so; and, of course, the handless clock that our heroes can see from their hotel window. (A symbol of something? Perhaps it would have been in a movie that had had the time to develop such an idea.)

It's fast moving and fun. Having watched with moderate attentiveness, I can honestly say that I don't feel much moved by the actual plot, and I'm not particularly concerned about the meaning of the clock. However—I would like to ask the same question of Chester Morris and his accordion that the room service boy asked him early on in the picture: "Can you jive on that thing?"

It's one of the movies that Chester Morris starred in for Pine-Thomas, producers of good B movies for Paramount. Morris plays a private detective who has just married his occasional co-star Jean Parker, when they get involved in a missing person case in Reno.

It's a decent effort, although director Frank MacDonald directs it with his budget clearly in mind, and Miss Parker seems to be doing a Paulette Goddard imitation. There are mild screwball overtones, and Morris is good at them, but there are too many suspects left in from Daniel Mainwaring's novel.

Still, as with most of the Pine-Thomas productions, there's a good deal of pleasure watching actors and actresses either before they became famous (there's Rod Cameron away from the westerns), or past their glory days (Jack Norton, perennial comic drunk, plays a bar tender!), While by no means one of Pine-Thomas' better productions, it gets the job done.