Um Simples Assassinato

Edward G. Robinson is excellent in this hilarious, sometimes surreal gangster spoof from Warners, directed by Lloyd Bacon. Robinson is an ex-bootlegger who goes legit after the repeal of the Prohibition. His daughter is in love with a state trooper and his former business associates turn up as corpses in his upstairs apartment. One of the joys of "Slight Case of Murder" is that it is so harmless and never takes itself too seriously. You get the impression that everyone in it seems to be having a great time. It is a fun picture, I'd love to watch it again.

This clever spoof has bosses, mugs, dames, robbers, state troopers--and corpses galore. Everything needed for a neat crime take-off.

Edward G. Robinson has great fun heading a stable of fine character actors from the late 30's in this surprise black and white treat, directed by Lloyd Bacon.

Just be on guard for what's stashed under the upstairs bed--not to mention what's hiding in the closet!

This is a funny and relatively fast paced gangster comedy--yes I did say "ganster comedy". It's about a gangster boss trying to go legitimate after prohibition was repealed. He tries, unsuccessfully, to market the same horrible beer that sold well during prohibition (the clientèle was less choosy when that's all they had to chose from). The problem is that in addition, bad stuff keeps happening around him that he had nothing to do with, but with his reputation he certainly would get the blame for! Try as he might, bad stuff just keeps happening.

Edward G. Robinson does a very good job with comedy. If you liked this film, try The Whole Town's Talking or Larceny, Inc. to see more of his comic talents.

By the way, I have absolutely no idea why, but the studio remade this film as "Stop, You're Killing Me" in 1952 (with Broderick Crawford in the lead). My advice is just stick with the original--it's better in every way.

A Slight Case of Murder had its origins on the Broadway stage where this play by Damon Runyon and Howard Lindsay flopped miserably with only 69 performances in the 1935 season. It certainly adapted better for the screen when Warner Brothers bought it for one of their gangster stable, in this case Edward G. Robinson.

The story concerns a gangster Remy Marko who is trying to go straight and get out of the bootleg beer racket now that Prohibition has been repealed. It was a problem faced by any number of people who were not Lucky Luciano or Meyer Lansky.

In Robinson's case he's decided to go legitimate and brew beer legally. Of course no one has the heart to tell him that the stuff he's been peddling for years has been nothing but swill, not even his family, Ruth Donnelly and Jane Bryan, nor his closest associates Allen Jenkins, Harold Huber, and Ed Brophy.

While all this is going Robinson and the family and friends go to his summer home near the Saratoga racetrack where a big robbery of the bookie's money has taken place. This was in the days before the para-mutual machines and track bets were taken at the sight by legal bookmakers. The gang decides to hide out in what they think will be Robinson's deserted home.

Daughter Jane Bryan is romancing state trooper Willard Parker, a prospect the going straight Robinson still finds appalling. No less so than Paul Harvey, Parker's nervous blue-blood father.

All these elements mix well for a very funny screen comedy. Robinson who was really getting tired of all the gangster parts, seems to be enjoying himself, referring to himself constantly in the third person, and earning quite a few laughs and keeping up with some of the best scene stealers around. Ruth Donnelly keeps up very well who most of the time remembers she's now supposed to be respectable, but every so often slips back to her familiar background.

The guy who really is funny here is Paul Harvey. He's mixing with people he's not used to and it's putting quite an evident strain on him.

One of the running gags in A Slight Case of Murder is how bad the beer Robinson makes. He never drinks himself so he doesn't know and no one is brave enough to tell him. Damon Runyon who probably sampled every kind of illegal liquor available during Prohibition, knew well the kind of rot gut that was peddled. The classier places imported stuff from across the border, but the dives used whatever they could get. Marko's lousy beer was something drinking people during Prohibition knew well from. A Slight Case of Murder is one of the few films that ever dealt with that fact albeit in a comic way.

Though the plot situations are certainly dated, the talent of this very good cast is timeless.

'A Slight Case of Murder' may never have been a very popular film. But it's full of weird, comic characters, and the extremely well written textbook brings out the very best of one of the greatest screen actors ever - Edward G. Robinson. The film gives you everything you expect from a sophisticated comedy of the Thirties, and I'll never forget when I - by chance - saw it first, on TV, about twenty years ago, along with my little sister, sitting on the sofa in the living room of our parent's house. When the film was over, we looked at each other, a bit helpless, unable to push a "backward"-button, and my sister said: "You know what. As far as I'm concerned, this film could have been going on for ever." And that was exactly what I felt.