Murder at the Windmill

This is like no other murder case. More interesting than who done it in this case is how it was done. It could only have been done from stage, so the helpless inspectors have no choice but to endure the whole show over again from the beginning to investigate at which point the shot could have been fired and how. They reach the end of the show until before the finale in a hilarious Mexican number all the girls on stage fire their own pistol.

This is a criminal comedy at its very best. It couldn't be more hilarious. At the same time, it's almost documentary, since this theatre actually never closed during the war but kept on giving shows day and night and was extremely popular in its charming location off the Piccadilly.

The poor inspectors have to suffer through one silly number after another, plagued by a bassoon pedant, silly dances with dogs, satirical ballets making fun of Hollywood, and in between lots of gags in the canteen, police officers getting lost in the theatre falling over chairs, one trying to escape and so on, while the girls keep playing cards when they are not on stage.

It's a wonderful rendering of how life at the Windmill actually went on almost non stop throughout the war with all its idyllic professional but endearing silliness. Applause, and applause again with cries for joy. It's simply adorable.

When a man is killed at the Windmill Theatre during a performance, the police have to discover which of the actors and stagehands is a murderer.

Murder at the Windmill is bad. Apparently someone thought the film would be better with musical numbers, so there's a couple randomly shoehorned in at various intervals. The numbers are horribly staged, and the songs are terrible. You also get to suffer through a terrible comedy routine by Jimmy Edwards and some guy doing a Jimmy Stewart impression.

Jon Pertwee is the only good actor in the bunch, giving a fun comedic performance as one of the policemen. The rest of the cast is pretty unmemorable, with the exception of Diana Decker, who is horrendously annoying. Peter Butterworth has a bit part as a policeman.

Unless you're a diehard Jon Pertwee fan, I'd avoid this one.

Well thats what the BBFC censor of the day would have said.I decided to make this post to correct some errors made in other posts.Up till 1967 when theatre censorship was abolished all stage performances came under the auspices of the Lord Chamberlain.Nudity on the stage was allowed provided that the nude did not move.So the maxim "if it moves its rude".So there were no strippers or nude dancing of any kind at The Windmill.There were "tableaux vivant" as they were called.Artfully posed nudes.So the show we see on screen is nothing like the one that would actually be performed on the stage.This film was made when the Windmill was still at its peak.In the fifties strip clubs would open up in adjacent Soho so men could go to see striptease without having to see variety acts,music hall at that time also dying.By the early sixties The Windmill had to close.The Theatre is still there but i believe that it is now a nightclub.This film is a historic reminder of what used to happen there.As they used to say "We Never Clothed".

Murder most foul as Miss Marple would say has been done at the famous Windmill Theater in London. The famed theater for which a very ambitious Rita Hayworth wartime film Tonight And Every Night used as a model is the scene of a homicide. The victim sat in the very front row and was shot as forensics would have it right from the stage during the last performance.

The victim was a makeup salesman who was always trying to make a sale among the chorus girls of himself and his products. The only way that Inspector Garry Marsh and Sergeant Jon Pertwee can solve this thing if the show is run again. So the weary cast goes through its paces again after the last show.

Murder At The Windmill is an interesting if strange film. The rather thin murder plot is just an excuse to put on the Windmill revue for our benefit. The numbers are nice but not spectacular and the murderer is extremely obvious from the start.

The film's best asset are the incredibly patient Garry Marsh and his assistant Pertwee who seems to think that he will dazzle his superior with all kinds of arcane knowledge. Marsh just takes it all in stride.

Murder At The Windmill is a curious little film, more musical than murder.

In order to find out who fired the fatal shot during a performance the windmill theatre cast each have to go through their entire routine - in front of a police inspector.

This film is actually just an excuse for us to sit back and watch an entire Windmill theatre performance. The cast in the film are the actual girls who worked there and the routines are what they really did - week in week out.

The Windmill (now sadly long closed,) was in Soho, London - just off Piccadilly circus and a whole generation of actors and comedians got their first break there. The formulae was simple, strippers and erotic dancers would perform on the stage and a comedian would come on in between each act. So, to get the attention of a crowd of sleazy men who had snuck in for a glimpse of flesh you had to be good. And a glimpse was all they ever got - the British censorship laws prohibited anything else. There used to be a plaque of names outside the door with a list of who had played there with names like David Niven, Harry Seacom and a host of others (Norman Wisdom failed the audition). The plaque also boasted that during WW2 `We never closed'.

A lot of countries would think that a slice of history like this would be worth preserving but not us British. As with the Liverpool Cavern club (now replaced with a silly replica,) The Bronte museum (full of phoney replaced artefacts,) and other places where the short term profit from a slice of land or property was more important than any heritage.

So, if you can get a copy this film it is a (slightly sanitised) snapshot of a world long gone. When Piccadilly circus had a real round about with the Eros statue in its centre and every building in the circus had a huge fantastic neon advert. A very enjoyable old film with the subject matter not quite as sleazy as it really was.