The Canary Murder Case

This film typifies the problems the studios were having adapting to sound in 1929. The characters talk and talk and talk and nothing much happens. Being a great Philo Vance fan, I had to purchase this film even though it is a pretty rough transfer to tape and is very stilted in style. The obvious post-dubbing of Louise Brooks' voice is comical since it comes out as a nasal Bronx accent. William Powell, just beginning to develop his persona as a sophisticate, really doesn't stand much of a chance here. However, for historical value, it is worth a try. It is the last film that Brooks made before she went to Germany and her greatest triumphs(Pandora's Box, Diary of a Lost Girl); thus the voice dubbing. The film started out as a silent and was converted to sound....by that time she was in Germany and refused to return to dub her own voice. If you are a Philo Vance buff and can't work your way through this film, see "The Kennel Murder Case" instead.

When Paramount decided to re-make their unreleased silent, "The Canary Murder Case" as a talkie, they faced two problems. The first was that the title star, Louise Brooks, had accepted an offer to work in Germany and refused to return. The second was that director Mal St Clair had no knowledge of sound technique. And perhaps it's true too that he supported Miss Brooks' stand. She and Paramount had parted on bad terms because the studio refused to honor her contract. In any event, Frank Tuttle was engaged to direct the talkie.

In order to get around the Brooks problem, the studio wheeled in a double, Margaret Livingston. Not only did Miss Livingston dub the Canary's voice (in an atrocious Brooklyn accent yet!) but also substituted visually in back-to-the-camera long shots.

So what we have is a movie in which all the Brooks close-ups (in fact all the shots which show her face), plus at least one short clip in a hotel corridor and maybe the long shot of the dancing chorus in the theater (and perhaps the location snip of the speeding car), were directed by Mal St Clair, whereas the rest of the action was directed by Frank Tuttle. A major headache for the editor indeed, and he is to be commended for a sterling job of work under extremely difficult circumstances. The pace is odd, the cutting unrhythmical and even jarringly abrupt at times, but at least the narrative still makes sense.

Aside from Miss Livingston, the players do wonders with the not very convincing dialogue supplied by novelist S.S. Van Dine himself. Oddly, Eugene Palette copes best, giving a typically hearty impersonation of Sergeant Heath. On the other hand, Powell seems a little unsure of his character at this stage and is often content merely to rattle off his lines. The rest of the players are competent enough, if a little too theatrical at times, though comedian Ned Sparks seems miscast as a ruthless thug and Jean Arthur's fans are in for a considerable shock not only by the paucity of her part but by the most unattractive way she is presented and photographed.

All the same, the film comes across as more than a mere curiosity. It not only bolsters the Brooks legend, but, if nothing else, it also presents a murder mystery that is not only reasonably intriguing but ingeniously solved.

P.S. The actor who plays Sergeant Heath spells his name "Pallette", but IMDb's automatic spelling correcter refuses to acknowledge this.

First Philo Vance film starring William Powell in the lead and a dubbed Louise Brooks in a small role. It's an early talkie so from a technical standpoint it creaks and groans as you might expect. But it's still an enjoyable picture with a good turn from Powell. Watch other movies from this year and you'll be doubly impressed by Powell's acting. His style is years ahead of most of his contemporaries who tended to overact. This series would get much better and Powell would certainly go on to do more memorable work, but this isn't a bad start at all. It's not a terribly exciting watch but it never bored me. If you like classic detective stories from this period it's worth a look.

In what turns out to be his second talking picture William Powell introduces to the screen the character of debonair detective Philo Vance. Like his later Nick Charles, Powell as Vance likes to live the high life though he's not as big a drinker.

He gets called in by an old friend Charles Lane (not the acerbic character actor we all know from TV and films) but an older gentlemen who is concerned about the continuing involvement of his son James Hall with nightclub singer Louise Brooks known only as The Canary. This girl is a much cruder version of Lorelei Lee who is determined to marry wealthy and insure a steady income for her pleasures. Hall is engaged to good girl Jean Arthur, but can't keep away from Brooks.

She's got a whole gang of other men on the string as well and she also has an ex-husband so when Brooks turns up dead there are no lack of suspects for Powell to work through. The police however with dumb as a brick Eugene Palette as Sergeant Heath seem to zero in on Hall.

For those who like the vivacious Jean Arthur in the classic films she was yet to do you won't find her here. She's pretty wasted as a typical good girl part. One player who will be a revelation is Ned Sparks as Brooks's ex-husband who claims he's not an ex. He's not the lovable sourpuss we later saw in many films, but a rather vicious animal. Totally a surprise.

William Powell's perfect diction and stage training make The Canary Murder Case hold up well even today. Unlike so many of his contemporaries at this time, Powell seem to know instinctively how to play for the new talking picture camera. Sound made his career.

For those who enjoy nice detective stories with a closed ring of suspects, you can't go wrong with The Canary Murder Case.

This film is today memorable only for those interested in the struggles the studios went through during the conversion to sound, and those interested in the fortunes of two of Hollywood's most fascinating characters, William Powell, and Louise Brooks.

Powell is cast as Philo Vance and plays him in a straight, deadpan manner. It's interesting because he has almost none of the charm and sophistication that he would bring just a few years later to the Nick Charles character that would become such a major hit.

On the other hand, this is the film that sunk the Hollywood career of Louise Brooks. She had just completed the silent version of this film when her Paramount contract came up for renewal. She was owned a $250 bump in salary, which would have boosted her all the way to $1,000 a week. But B.P. Schulberg refused to honor the deal, saying he didn't know how she would record. Of course, Brooks walked out on the film, went to Europe and made film history, although it would be 30 years before anyone realized it. But eventually, the restored version of "Pandora's Box" would turn her into a screen legend and perhaps, the greatest femme fatale in movie history. But the film pretty much flopped at the time, mostly because it was carved up by the censors.

Meanwhile, Paramount decided to do some reshoots to get some sound into "Canary", but could not lure Brooks back to Hollywood for love or money. So Margaret Livingston was brought in and dubbed Brooks' voice, unfortunately using a Brooklyn accent that sounded nothing at all like Brooks. (For a real example of her voice, check out "Windy Riley Goes Hollywood," a terrible 1929 short that was actually directed by Fatty Arbuckle under an assumed name. She has a low, sexy voice, despite Paramount's contention that she "didn't record." It's now available on DVD as added material for Brooks' other German triumph, "Diary of a Lost Girl," directed by G.W.Pabst.)

At any rate, Canary is slow moving and dull to the extreme. After Brooks' character is knocked off, the film goes straight downhill and is almost impossible to watch. But the first part is fascinating, if only because Brooks is so damned beautiful that she takes your breath away.