***/**** Image A Sound A Extras B-
starring Edward G. Robinson, Jane Bryan, Allen Jenkins, Ruth Donnelly
screenplay by Earl Baldwin and Joseph Schrank, based on the play by Damon Runyon and Howard Lindsay
directed by Lloyd Bacon
by Travis Mackenzie Hoover There's nothing much that can be said about the creamy goodness of A Slight Case of Murder. Debuting at the tail end of the gangster cycle, the film spoofs Edward G. Robinson's Little Caesar persona as Remy Marko, a limitlessly vulgar bootlegger who's gone legit with the end of Prohibition, though his beer still tastes of the bathtub and isn't selling well. Marko thus finds himself in several binds: how to fend off creditors while being $500k in the hole; how to reconcile the fact that his daughter (Jane Bryan) is engaged to a state trooper (Willard Parker); and how to deal with his country house having just played host to five armoured-car robbers–four of whom were plugged by the most sociopathic of the bunch. All good fun, to be sure, but it's not a film for the sussing out of complexities: everything here is blunt, on the surface, and immediately gratifying without the necessity of comment.
But since I've got to earn my keep somehow, let it be known that A Slight Case of Murder is packed to the rafters with detail–more than one would expect from a routine Lloyd Bacon comedy. (Bacon would later blunder the crooks vs. Nazis epic All Through the Night despite Bogart AND a honey of a concept.) The film in question is bolstered by a quartet of right-hand-men turned servants (Allen Jenkins, Edward Brophy, Harold Huber, Joe Downing) who've never quite gotten this go-legit/get-some-class score–they pal around as if it were the old days and make enjoyable hash out of the super-refinement to which their boss tries (and fails) to remold himself. There's also the matter of Douglas Fairbanks Rosenbloom (Bobby Jordan), the orphan whom the successful Marko has decided to take in for the summer out of charity. If anything, Douglas makes the master's attendants look like the epitome of good breeding.
The details, in fact, keep you from noticing the machinations of the plot. For the most part, it's a serviceable one, forcing a change of focus every so often from money woes to hidden bodies to the strained relations of Marko and the law, i.e., "I'm in favour of law and order. But you don't have to have it in your own house, do you?" The lightning-fast changeups are good for hiding the threadbare nature of the whole thing: one doesn't enjoy the film for a satisfying narrative arc, but for the ability of Marko to juggle several crises at once without getting flummoxed. Of course, we can point to Mary's romance with state trooper Dick Whitewood as the weak link: the pair exudes well-scrubbed innocuousness that distracts from the more eccentric main event–it's like dropping a cheesy romance in a Marx Brothers movie (and why would anyone do that?).
One could also say that the film wraps up a little neatly with an unlikely reversal of the bank's position while never providing an adequate explanation as to how Marko can be unaware of his beer's terrible flavour. Regardless, A Slight Case of Murder is always interesting and never dull. The cast members remain on their toes for the duration, never without a witty line or an uncomfortable situation to show their comedy chops. And there is of course fun to be had as Dick's stuffed-shirt father (Paul Harvey) shows up for a screaming bash that upsets his delicate constitution. For stress-free fun, the film is hard to top. Though it may not have importance to flaunt, it manages to flash a few fine assets.
THE DVD
Warner delivers another terrific transfer of a vintage title. The full-frame image is uncannily sharp, with the teeming details coming through with excellent fine detail and brightness; very occasional print damage is the only defect. The Dolby 1.0 mono sound is just as good, a well-balanced and potent mix that beautifully renders the uncomplicated original elements. Extras are as follows:
Commentary by Robert Sklar
The noted scholar pretty much eschews commenting directly on the action; he's more interested in background information, hence lots of detail on how Damon Runyon got into the playwriting business, how his play became this film, and the nature of Edward G. Robinson's star-power.
"Prohibition Opens the Floodgates" (17 mins.)
A pretty good explanation of the symbiosis between prohibition, gangsters, and gangster films. Special care is taken to distinguish the Robin Hood characterization of the speakeasy-era gangster from today's irredeemable drug dealers–showing how the repealing of Prohibition changed the face of gangsterism.
Meanwhile, "The Warner Night at the Movies" viewing option breaks down like so:
The Dawn Patrol Trailer (3 mins.)
A fairly heavy-breathing promo for Errol Flynn's WWI flying ace movie that sells the product with gravity and sharp editing.
Newsreel (2 mins.)
An appeal for information on the kidnapping of David Levine, who was snatched from junior high and ransomed shortly thereafter.
Declaration of Independence (17 mins.)
This is a stiff and insufferable Technicolor short about–you guessed it–the framing of the Declaration of Independence. It's mostly big declarative sentences and pompous recitations from the Declaration. Boring and hard to watch.
The Night Watchman (7 mins.)
A small cat has to fill in for his father as a kitchen's night watchman; naturally, the mice walk all over him until he lays down the law. A little cutesy, but definitely watchable.
Rounding out the platter, A Slight Case of Murder's trailer. Available individually or as part of Warner's "Tough Guys Collection".
85 minutes; NR; 1.33:1; English DD 1.0; CC; English, French, Spanish subtitles; DVD-9; Region One; Warner
