Un meurtre sans importance

In the early days of his career, the late great Edward G.Robinson, often took on roles which for him were a change of pace. Here is a good example. One of the most memorable character roles he portrayed, was the tough guy character "Rico" in 'Little Ceasar' ruler of his tiny empire. However that was when gunmen ruled the town and bootleg whiskey was all the rage. However as with every era, Prohibition was soon repealed and as in this film, the bootlegger went straight. Edward G. Robinson is now tough, legitimate and respectable, Remy Marco. Together with his wife, Mary Marco (Jane Bryan) daughter, Nora Marco (Ruth Donnelly) and his old gang plan on making a go of the new lifestyle, a brewery, making domestic beer. However, trappings of his former life follow. Several hoodlums plan on ambushing him at his Saratoga home, but end up as excess baggage and Marco must deal with them as well as an uninvited State Trooper and son-in-law visiting him at that very moment. In addition, Marco has invited a juvenile delinquent and 'Dead End Kid' Douglas Fairbanks Rosenbloom (Bobby Jordan) to come and learn how to be an upstanding citizen. The hilarity of this film is a mad-cap series of quick changing comical situations which invite humor only if one remembers how serious the 1930's were. Much more interesting is the quick thinking dialog between the characters as they adapt to life after criminal prohibition. ****

Edward G. Robinson has been typecast so often as "THE gangster", that it's quite unusual to see him in a COMEDY!

A gangster who owns a brewery decides to "go straight" and become "respectable" (along with his unwilling gang); and all sorts of funny things happen: his daughter wants to marry a state trooper (!), bodies show up in his house, etc.

As the other reviewer said, many people don't like this film, but *I* found it thoroughly enjoyable!

If you want to see Robinson in an even BETTER comedy, check out "The Whole Town Is Talking", where he plays a dual role: Public Enemy # 1, and a timid clerk who happens to be a dead ringer for him!

Norm

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 It's about a gangster boss trying to go legitimate after prohibition was repealed.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.