Tomorrow at Seven

With a roomful of suspects listening tensely, police detective Frank McHugh reads aloud a letter that may identify the killer known as the Black Ace. Suddenly the lights go out. There are shrieks and shouts. When the lights come back on, the letter has vanished! –No, it's not the most original plot ever, but good humor and engaging performances still make this a fun little picture.

Chester Morris is a crime writer researching a book on the Black Ace, the elusive criminal who always leaves a black ace warning his victims they are soon to die. Morris visits Henry Stephenson, a well-known expert on the subject in hopes of joining forces. Vivienne Osborne is the plucky daughter of Stephenson's secretary; her father is an early victim. These three stars give solid, efficient performances.

The real central figures of the picture, however, are dubiously capable detectives Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins. The two make a catchy team, take turns butchering the language, and just generally undermine any attempts by the other characters—or the audience—at taking this whole picture too seriously. I guarantee you—if you don't like dumb detective humor, you will not enjoy this film!

The plot, though unoriginal, is nevertheless well managed; even Morris's character, the presumed hero, is a potential suspect, as is everyone else in the story.

Funniest bit: McHugh and Jenkins telling the story of their earlier encounter with the Black Ace, rich in impenetrable slang ("So I'm crowdin' him with the heater, but he don't belch…") and including McHugh's hilarious admonition to Jenkins—"How many times have I gotta tell ya? These guys don't understand them technical terms!"

I think this qualifies as an "Old Dark House" film. Most of it takes place in a house, which is indeed both old and dark. Ralph Spence penned the typically high-quality script - it's impossible to guess the killer.

What really makes the film is the comic relief in the form of incompetent detectives played by Frank McHugh and Allen Jenkins. Actually, they're in the film as much as the leads. I'm a big Allen Jenkins fan. His Depression-era dumb guy persona brought a charm to every film it graced that's totally missing in today's actors. 8/10.

I have to agree with the reviewers who think the bumbling cops spoil an otherwise good murder mystery romp. What was the director thinking? However, there is one director's moment that shines, if you're paying attention, hilariously. This movie should have had more moments like this and a lot less of the cops doing one schtick over and over and... It is when the mute housekeeper, played in a wonderfully creepy manner by Virginia Howell, uses sign language to talk to Vivienne Osborne. Osborne's character says, "I don't understand." And Howell signs again only much more slowly.

The residents of a dark mansion are threatened by a mysterious murderer who uses cards to tell his future victims the exact time of their death.

One intended victim decides he will get on an airplane to try to outwit the murderer , but at the appointed time the lights in the plane go out - death calls again

Tomorrow at seven is another one of those mysteries featuring a couple of annoying inept police officers, while Chester Morris works things out in regard who the black ace murderer is - a fast-paced and nicely plotted mystery, however as much as the inept police men provides some funny moments they can be a bit too much at times.

The Black Ace warns his victims ahead when the time will come for them to die. Such is the basic premise of Tomorrow at Seven directed by Ray Enright and scripted by Ralph Spence. Interwoven into this basic premise is a young Chester Morris going to a Mr. Thorton Drake because he knows all there is to be known about the Black Ace. Morris is writing a book, meets a cute secretary that can introduce him, and all the main characters from that point on - including two cops included for protection - board a small plane to go to a huge mansion in Louisiana. All this to escape the ominous note saying Mr. Drake, played indelibly by Henry Stephenson, would die "tomorrow at seven." The old Southern home is reminiscent of the home used in the 1939 version of The Cat and the Canary(also taking place in Loiusiana). This film works because it has a pretty tight and inventive script, some good direction, and good acting. The mystery is not too terribly easy to solve - and though I figured it out - I could never be 100% sure!