The Doctor was X

If you should find a cannibal is running loose among the staff of your mad scientist college, it's best to conduct an investigation yourself in your enormous emerald mansion. 1932's Doctor X presents just such an administrative problem and solution. The result is a truly fantastic early Technicolor horror film.

Dr. Xavier (Lionel Atwell) presides over the college and his daughter, Joanne, is played by the beautiful Fay Wray.

It's times like this I'm reminded Wray was not just some lucky girl who happened to be picked up by the right giant gorilla at the right time. Her expressions imply a perceptive and sensual nature. She seems innocently indignant and then just turned on by the goofy newsman who functions as the film's hero, Lee Taylor (Lee Tracy).

He's a practical joker and there are multiple scenes featuring his hand buzzer. It kind of works, though, and in fact leads to one of the best scenes in the film which begins with a shot of surprisingly effective horror and ends with a surprisingly effective payoff for Lee's penchant for practical jokes.

The film was shot in two colour Technicolor, which means everything's shades of green or red. The film has been restored thanks to the George Lucas foundation (nice to see how those Star Wars billions are being spent) and that limited colour palette looks stunning, particularly the greens.

Doctor X is available on The Criterion Channel.

X Sonnet #1745

Her castle wall was lined with secret glass.
With ev'ry step a trap, her hem was scratched.
Through darkened halls, she'd see a figure pass.
Her old and tattered drapes were crudely patched.
Explaining dolls to castle guards, she rushed.
Her words became a soup before she ate.
But soupy meals could never sate a lush.
You see, her pulpy shelves had fed her pate.
The em'rald curtains wreathed her stealthy trip.
The danger built on stones beneath her feet.
She poised the lemon rind across her lip.
The hobbled guest prefers her trick to treat.
She found a horse behind the wall at ten.
A royal crown was left where last she'd been.

A Tangled Ball of Motive

Everyone wanted to kill Archer Coe but it's up to Philo Vance to figure out who did. 1933's The Kennel Murder Case, based on one volume in the popular series of Philo Vance detective novels, is a vibrantly executed puzzle directed with palpable energy by Michael Curtiz and featuring a good performance by William Powell in the lead.

The dead man is discovered in his chair in his bedroom, a bullet hole in his head and a revolver in his hand, the door bolted. Naturally, this was no suicide. Only Philo seems to know at first, the rest of the authorities are happy to accept what seems obvious. Playing this story's Lestrade is Eugene Palette--his Detective Heath is as consistently wrong as he is delightful with his trademark bullfrog voice and affably irritable manner.

Mary Astor plays the dead man's niece but her role is pretty small--there's no hint of romance between her and Philo. She admits frankly she wanted her uncle dead because he controlled her inheritance; her fiance also wanted him dead for a similar reason as did her spurned lover. Also on the list of suspects is another uncle, a butler with a hidden past, and a Chinese cook (James Lee) in Coe's household who's disgusted by his employer's plan to sell his collection of Chinese artefacts.

Powell plays Philo cool and casual. This character could've easily been very boring in other hands but Powell has enough natural life in his performance to captivate the viewer. But mostly it's Curtiz that makes it work and his use of frequent cuts between shot angles in dialogue scenes. These are always organic, they never give the film a too-busy feeling and they keep things from feeling like a filmed play. The Kennel Murder Case is available on Amazon Prime.