¿Quién la mató?

In what turns out to be his second talking picture William Powell introduces to the screen the character of debonair detective Philo Vance. Like his later Nick Charles, Powell as Vance likes to live the high life though he's not as big a drinker.

He gets called in by an old friend Charles Lane (not the acerbic character actor we all know from TV and films) but an older gentlemen who is concerned about the continuing involvement of his son James Hall with nightclub singer Louise Brooks known only as The Canary. This girl is a much cruder version of Lorelei Lee who is determined to marry wealthy and insure a steady income for her pleasures. Hall is engaged to good girl Jean Arthur, but can't keep away from Brooks.

She's got a whole gang of other men on the string as well and she also has an ex-husband so when Brooks turns up dead there are no lack of suspects for Powell to work through. The police however with dumb as a brick Eugene Palette as Sergeant Heath seem to zero in on Hall.

For those who like the vivacious Jean Arthur in the classic films she was yet to do you won't find her here. She's pretty wasted as a typical good girl part. One player who will be a revelation is Ned Sparks as Brooks's ex-husband who claims he's not an ex. He's not the lovable sourpuss we later saw in many films, but a rather vicious animal. Totally a surprise.

William Powell's perfect diction and stage training make The Canary Murder Case hold up well even today. Unlike so many of his contemporaries at this time, Powell seem to know instinctively how to play for the new talking picture camera. Sound made his career.

For those who enjoy nice detective stories with a closed ring of suspects, you can't go wrong with The Canary Murder Case.

When Paramount decided to re-make their unreleased silent, "The Canary Murder Case" as a talkie, they faced two problems. The first was that the title star, Louise Brooks, had accepted an offer to work in Germany and refused to return. The second was that director Mal St Clair had no knowledge of sound technique. And perhaps it's true too that he supported Miss Brooks' stand. She and Paramount had parted on bad terms because the studio refused to honor her contract. In any event, Frank Tuttle was engaged to direct the talkie.

In order to get around the Brooks problem, the studio wheeled in a double, Margaret Livingston. Not only did Miss Livingston dub the Canary's voice (in an atrocious Brooklyn accent yet!) but also substituted visually in back-to-the-camera long shots.

So what we have is a movie in which all the Brooks close-ups (in fact all the shots which show her face), plus at least one short clip in a hotel corridor and maybe the long shot of the dancing chorus in the theater (and perhaps the location snip of the speeding car), were directed by Mal St Clair, whereas the rest of the action was directed by Frank Tuttle. A major headache for the editor indeed, and he is to be commended for a sterling job of work under extremely difficult circumstances. The pace is odd, the cutting unrhythmical and even jarringly abrupt at times, but at least the narrative still makes sense.

Aside from Miss Livingston, the players do wonders with the not very convincing dialogue supplied by novelist S.S. Van Dine himself. Oddly, Eugene Palette copes best, giving a typically hearty impersonation of Sergeant Heath. On the other hand, Powell seems a little unsure of his character at this stage and is often content merely to rattle off his lines. The rest of the players are competent enough, if a little too theatrical at times, though comedian Ned Sparks seems miscast as a ruthless thug and Jean Arthur's fans are in for a considerable shock not only by the paucity of her part but by the most unattractive way she is presented and photographed.

All the same, the film comes across as more than a mere curiosity. It not only bolsters the Brooks legend, but, if nothing else, it also presents a murder mystery that is not only reasonably intriguing but ingeniously solved.

P.S. The actor who plays Sergeant Heath spells his name "Pallette", but IMDb's automatic spelling correcter refuses to acknowledge this.

A famous "transition" film. One shot as a silent and partly re-shot for talkies. William Powell stars as Philo Vance. Jean Arthur plays a show girl. Louise Brooks is the "Canary." Of course this film is famous because Brooks refused to return from Europe to re-shoot scenes as a talkie. The studio then released news her voice would not record well. To get even more even they hired Margaret Livingston to dub Brooks' voice in a high nasal New York accent. Livingston also appears in a few long shots in a Louise Brooks hair cut.

Slow but OK murder mystery. Brooks disappears after about 15 minutes; Arthur has no real part. That leaves us with James Hall as the dupe, Eugene Palette the dumb sergeant, Charles Lane the father, Oscar Smith the desk attendant, etc. Lots of talk.

Brooks is gorgeous and in the credits you note she gets downplayed from 2nd to 4th billing. Another Paramount jab. Brooks indeed had a fine voice even though I've only seen a couple of lousy westerns she made. She was a beauty and had a good voice. But she sure was difficult. And her "Lulu in Hollywood" memoir doesn't change my mind about her. By the way: I loved her in Beggars of Life as well as Pandora's Box and Diary of a Lost Girl.

The interlude between silent movies and talkies was an interesting one. Paramount Pictures had vowed in October 1928 not to release any movies that weren't all-talkies--with the exception to those theaters not wired for sound yet. It had a number of silents in the middle of production that needed to have talking segments added to satisfy the thirst of a public loving what it had seen so far in the early talkies. Silent versions of these dialogue-filled pictures were still going to be made for more rural areas, but the talkie revolution was happening at a quickened pace in the larger cities. One of the first silents to be converted to a talkie was February 1929's "The Canary Murder Case." Production had wrapped up by October 12, 1928. Paramount called back all the actors and actresses who appeared in the film to reshoot the scenes involving dialogue. Everyone came back, with the exception of one.

Louise Brooks had demanded a hefty bonus to reshoot her portion of "The Canary Murder Case." Her character was killed 15 minutes into the movie, so there wasn't that much dialogue to film. Paramount refused to meet her demands. Her contract expired after the "Canary" filming ended before she traveled to Germany to accept German director G. W. Pabst's offer to act as the lead in "Pandora's Box." Brooks refused to return when the studio didn't budge on her bonus request. According to some, that refusal limited her movie opportunities in Hollywood when she returned two years later from Europe.

Paramount knew "The Canary Murder Case" was going to be a complete bomb unless it released a talkie version. In lieu of Brooks' abscence, the producers hired actress Margaret Livingston, the temptress in 1927 F. W. Murnau's "Sunrise," to be Brooks' body double in the wide shots where she was made up to look like her from behind while she was talking. They used other tricks, such as hiding Livingston behind a cabinet to appear as if Louise were conversing with a potential killer. But all that dubbing didn't fool viewers. Critic Louella Parsons, the Los Angeles Examiner critic, noticed. "You are conscious that the words spoken do not actually emanate from the mouth of Miss Brooks and you feel that as much of her part as possible has been cut. She is unbelievably bad in a role that should have been well suited to her. Only long shots are permitted of her and even these are far from convincing when she speaks." The angry executives at Paramount began to smear Brooks, falsely claiming the studio was forced to do the dub job because Brooks' voice was so bad, which wasn't the case.

"The Canary Murder Case" was based on a series of popular crime mystery novels by the pseudonym writer S. S. Van Dine (real author: Willard Huntington Wright). The 1929 film kicked off a string of 16 movies over 20 years, with Detective Philo Vance solving every case. Actor William Powell appeared as the detective in four of the first five movies. In "Canary," Brooks plays a stage girl, Margaret O'Dell, who loves married men. She claims her ex-boyfriend, Jimmy Spotswoode (James Hall), has embezzled money from his dad's bank. Jimmy denies such a charge. His father visits her apartment to try to bribe Margaret to keep her quiet. Jimmy is about to marry Alice La Fosse (Jean Arthur) and doesn't need any headaches from 'The Canary" Margaret squawking. The next morning she's found dead.

"The Canary Murder Case" was the first speaking role for Jean Arthur. She was extremely hesitant to transfer over from silent to sound movies. But when the actress realized talkies weren't just a fad, she knew she had to accept speaking parts. Her few speaking lines in "Canary" didn't impress critics. She looked back at her talking debut and said she was a "very poor actress. I was awfully anxious to improve, but was inexperienced so far as genuine training was concerned." At the time, Paramount was scouting Broadway actors with great voice articulation and live stage experience. Arthur decided to take some time off to act in a few New York CIty plays to become comfortable speaking in front of a live audience. At the same time she received expert vocal lessons from coaches who knew more about voice projection than miming physical movements on the screen.

One of the earliest private-eye talkies was "The Canary Murder Case," featuring William Powell as an American detective called Philo Vance ... later described by Raymond Chandler as "probably the most asinine character in detective fiction."

This type of "classic" murder mystery, transposed to an American location, must have seemed a natural for early talkie producers: few sets, all interiors, a lot of talk and little of that difficult action stuff which meant the camera might have to move around… Like filming a stage play, in fact. Here was an opportunity to set up the static camera in its enclosed booth and let the actors get on with the job…

Most of these films turned out to be the dullest ever made… It wasn't the fault of William Powell, who played Philo Vance with wit and elegance… It was the fault of a basic misconception in making private-detective movies…

Powell played Vance four times... Others who, followed him were: Paul Lukas, Edmund Lowe, Warren Williams, Grant Richards, James Stephenson and Alan Curtis